Fragments
I.
F. E. B. R. A. R…..
No, that’s not it.
F. E. B. U. R. A. R…..
This doesn’t seem right.
F. E. B. R. U. R. Y?
It’s missing something. Right. An “A” that doesn’t know where it belongs.
In primary school, she learns that life’s not fair.
It’s really not, when you are born in a month with the hardest spelling.
II.
High school.
Where the rich, the smart and the pretty ruled.
The one with the shiny car who wears a different watch to school every day.
The one who gets full marks in every exam, every freaking time.
The one who everyone crushes on and the source of inspiration for teenage love poems.
Money, brains or looks.
If you had one of those, you had power.
The kind of power that makes others look up to you in awe (or in some cases, a little bit of fear).
It sucked because she had none of those.
But then, she found books.
And she learned that there’s a different kind of power.
The kind that made life that much more colorful and interesting.
The power of imagination.
III.
The first bicycle she ever had was a red BMX.
(Pink, too girly. Blue, the boy next door already had one. Green, not her color. Orange, too bright.)
It taught her three things.
Stop being scared of getting hurt.
That’s the only way to learn how to ride a bicycle.
Stop being scared of getting hurt.
That’s the only way to ride a bicycle.
And the last.
Don’t be reckless and go hurting other people along the way.
IV.
She loves the rain, she really does.
But there’s something she loves more than the rain.
Those few minutes before the rain.
The dark clouds rumbling in the sky. Like grumpy old men being disturbed out of their sleep.
The wind that frolicks through the leaves. As if rousing them to say, “Come on! The show’s about to start!”
And that smell of fresh excitement that makes her fingers and toes feel all tingly.
She’s in love with a storm brewing.
F. E. B. R. A. R…..
No, that’s not it.
F. E. B. U. R. A. R…..
This doesn’t seem right.
F. E. B. R. U. R. Y?
It’s missing something. Right. An “A” that doesn’t know where it belongs.
In primary school, she learns that life’s not fair.
It’s really not, when you are born in a month with the hardest spelling.
II.
High school.
Where the rich, the smart and the pretty ruled.
The one with the shiny car who wears a different watch to school every day.
The one who gets full marks in every exam, every freaking time.
The one who everyone crushes on and the source of inspiration for teenage love poems.
Money, brains or looks.
If you had one of those, you had power.
The kind of power that makes others look up to you in awe (or in some cases, a little bit of fear).
It sucked because she had none of those.
But then, she found books.
And she learned that there’s a different kind of power.
The kind that made life that much more colorful and interesting.
The power of imagination.
III.
The first bicycle she ever had was a red BMX.
(Pink, too girly. Blue, the boy next door already had one. Green, not her color. Orange, too bright.)
It taught her three things.
Stop being scared of getting hurt.
That’s the only way to learn how to ride a bicycle.
Stop being scared of getting hurt.
That’s the only way to ride a bicycle.
And the last.
Don’t be reckless and go hurting other people along the way.
IV.
She loves the rain, she really does.
But there’s something she loves more than the rain.
Those few minutes before the rain.
The dark clouds rumbling in the sky. Like grumpy old men being disturbed out of their sleep.
The wind that frolicks through the leaves. As if rousing them to say, “Come on! The show’s about to start!”
And that smell of fresh excitement that makes her fingers and toes feel all tingly.
She’s in love with a storm brewing.
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