The Take Out

I sit out on a bench looking at the street looking at the various buildings that exisit to serve some purpose

I sit here outside this cafe waiting for my pizza and cheese fries on the go. To pass some time, I listen to my playlist “My Indie Vibes” . Each song somehow suiting the mood I am in 

The sun is at its best now, I guess. 

It shines not very brightly but bright enough to give off a warm glaze off it when looking at it. The time to be a beautiful evening sun. The evening sun you see in movies, everyone coming back from work and watching the city bustle. 

Then I hear a shout of my name to which I get a heart attack. It was my dad coming from work tired and happy listening to country songs. He gets very excited about these songs 

Before him interrupting my thoughts, I guess I wanted to write something. Yes, I remember what it is.

I had quite the day today. Shopped out of my budget. I do not like shopping for clothes for myself. This does not mean I do not, I just find it tiring and well if I like something, I try it on and will buy if I have the money. That’s what I did. I was very testy and pissed having spend off my money.

Then my mom told me why save up and save up if you are not going to spend on something that makes you happy. This advice calmed me down and I saw the happy side to it. I got some cool shirts to wear. 

After all, this saved up money was not going to be of any use in hell, perhaps as a bribe to get into heaven. 

Then while going back home, I saw this old man on a wheelchair selling packets of tissues. It hurt me physically causing me to whimper. I can’t stand watching people in despair and beg. 

So I went up-to him and bought two packets of tissues, a dollar for each packet. He handed me three to which I declined first but he insisted with a happy smile to which I smiled back and then took. 

I can’t forget that smile and never will. I guess that smile came from happiness that finally someone noticed him and gave him money for the first time or he was joyous that he was closer to affording a meal. 

I got to thinking what different people do to survive. It aches me. I told my mom that whenever my mom and dad come here, when they see that man, they should always give him some money. I can’t wait to grow up, get a job and do my bit for them, for people who need the help. It makes you think and know you got it quite good. 

Later as my mom and I were walking home, we saw a small cute child carrying a trolley bag holding his father’s hand who was leading him along. The boy looked unwilling and looked as if he wanted to go out and play rather than do whatever they were going to do. 

This got my mom reminiscing about my past, my school life, particularly my year 10. The most stressful and worst year of my life in school. 

There was this insane pressure to achieve and I knew I couldn’t. I just didn’t understand Maths and Science. It was not for me and I tried so hard and I achieved the grade I wanted and I was happy. I got the grade I deserved. 

My mom told me she was so afraid of me not passing Maths and I told her it was hard. I had to memorize formulas and sums to get that grade. 

I despised every bit of my 10th grade, the tuitions, the pressure and the stress to get that grade because society and outside family would judge me if I don’t get it. It was awful succumbing to these pressures. 

Then some or the other conversation happened with her to spark this one I am going to write about.

I told her about how some teachers were not good to me. They undermined me, thought I wouldn’t make it and she was so shocked and upset because I did not tell her this back then. I knew she would wreck their worlds if I told her, so I kept quiet back then and just went with it. 

I told her that when in year 12, when I became a prefect and one time when I was passing her, she said “oh you got it?” in a very sarcastic tone. 

I was hurt but I forgot about it. Clearly I haven’t done a good memory forgetting it if I still remember it now. 

This is why year 11 and 12 were the best years of my high school. I was doing subjects that I loved. I got a chance to prove myself and start anew. I found myself and found great friends in a great class. I thrived. I got so many opportunities that I would never get back then. 

Back to the present moment, The takeout. Some time passed and I got the meal, my dad paid and we were walking back home. My dad listening to his music in the evening sun and I beside him dwelling in this sad spiral. 

I wanted to have some sort of talk and comfort with him but he was dwelling in his music and I didn’t want to ruin that. In that moment I knew this is how my parents felt when I am engrossed in laptop and phone all day. That feeling hurt and I am sorry that you have to go through with it mom and dad. 

This sad spiral I was in was due to earlier incidents.

This is exactly why I choose not to talk about the past because many of it brings me pain. My technique works just fine, forget about those bad times, suppress it down/forget it and move on. Talking about it now just made me more upset. If I talked to someone back then, it would probably be better and not hurt so much like as of now but at the end it’s always going to hurt the same. 

This is exactly why I choose not to talk about many things from my past or from my present  because they always tend to leave me in this sad wallowing misery. 

Now I have to smile and pretend to be in this happy state in front of my mom and dad because I don’t want them to be sad and up in my space. I wouldn’t have been sad if not for talking about the past. 

This is exactly why I like my technique. It doesn’t hurt anyone, probably me but I have been dealing with that tiny hurt for a long time, so long now it’s just normal. I am okay after a while. 

Now I feel much better writing it down and presenting it out in the open. 

What an irony? I say I don’t want to talk about it yet I write about it and show it to the world. Huh.