Countdown: #10 “Family Table with a Dead Boy”


Friday, December 24th 2010

“Family Table with a Dead Boy”

Friday night, 20:38. I’m sitting alone in my room. Lights are out and darkness reigns. Only the laptop’s screen is shining as well as some bracelets I have from Army Academy. It’s weird, you know. This is the first Friday after a very long time that I won’t be there. The first Friday in fact that I ain’t sure of what I am gonna do tonight and most importantly IF I’m gonna do anything at all. Back in my hometown. How unfortunate. Back into that same room, that colourless, untouched place. Back there to that feeling that the walls coming closer. Struggling to suffocate me as I am fighting for one more breath.

In here, in this cold white room I feel dead. It always was and still is the place where I would pass by to “charge” myself. You know, to get ready for the next night-out, to fix my hair or to change my clothes. To restore the scars in that “shiny” image of me. To blow life in me once more. Yet in this place where I would be “reincarnated” I’d always feel dead, trapped inside it.

So now I am sitting on my chair. Wet hair, wet body. With nothing to cover my body but a towel. I have to get ready again but I can’t stop that urge to write. To give into my misery. And these words seem to leave my hand by themselves. Against my will, against my command.

Maybe the worst thing of all is that I’ll spend this Christmas with my family. Haven’t done so for five years. It seems like an eternity but I remember so well how it felt. Always by choice I didn’t spend it with my family. In fact every December 25th I am alone. At least without any of my friends or my family. For 24 hours I am with myself mostly.  For five years now, I arrange to be in C. for Christmas. Because on that day I always wanna be alone. But that ain’t the case for now. The reasons why I need to do that are out of subject for now.

Nevertheless tonight I have one of those “infamous” family dinners. Just me, my parents and my sister. A family table with a dead boy. For that’s what I am. A dead boy. I’ll be there, sitting silently, staring at them while they put me down. Just by the way they look at me. That  disappointment will be again so clear in their eyes. Especially now that the university subject is still “on”.

And I’ll be there. Perfect outside but shattered on the inside. And they’ll be there. Wondering what has gone wrong. Why I didn’t make it into a university, why I don’t have any goals in my life and everything. And all that because they refuse to see what I dream to do. Because they don’t wanna listen, no matter how hard I try to tell them, to make them realise that I do have goals and dreams and that I am willing to fight  for them. Not good enough for them, they are. But they are for me. They are my dreams, dreams about my life.

And I will sit there. On that table. A being already ruined by its eccentrisism but mostly by its inclemency and “charm”. By that “shine” it has. A being suppressed by all the expectations people have of it. A being with so many unfinished, unspoken dreams. I will sit there. Staring at them with blank eyes, trying to put up with what they say, with what they demand of me. Hoping that the time will pass by as fast as possible. All alone. With just another bottle of wine as my companion which will vainly empty in my glass.

This entry I’ll finish with a song by one of my favourite artists, Tarja Turunen: Boy & the Ghost. For all I wanted was some understanding. Somebody to see who I am. But not tonight. Tonight the dead boy will be out again. On that family table, like it always was..

 

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Published:
December 25, 2010 / 02:15
Category:
December Countdown
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