We Can Only Hope

I lay on my bed with my laptop resting gently upon my belly. The many thoughts and tingly feelings of life never seen to erase from my mind. I lick my lips to feel their tender bare skin drained from the suns ever consuming light. My plump rosy red skin from the burn I had taken just minutes ago just by walking around the depths of despair and disgrace of school. I finished my last test today, or if you could even call it that. It was a prac exam for music; my piece was “La Condor Pasa.” (A Latin American piece, just like everyone else mainly played.) I did not care much for music as it was only there to pluck the strings of my creative sides and brighten my day from evil beings that seem to want to lower my spirits.

I stare blankly at my sticky notes riding up my bookshelf with the colors of the rainbow. I had used so many through my studying and still I now feel as if it were a waste. The thought again pops into my head of what my father questions me about every minute of every day.

“Why don’t you become …(This or That)….?” My father has a perspective of men being the true existence on earth and life yet women the lower. Women are meant to do their jobs, he would say along with the list of things he always asks me to do after school. Hair dressing, nursing, dress maker etc. Though I tell him that I can never go near blood nor needles for that matter, hair dressing well I can barely leave my hair in its same fashion each day, a simple pony tail is all I can do and a dress maker to just follow mums footsteps though again needles and patience seem to way me down.

I’ve always wanted to become a writer, no matter what. From the first day I entered school to each creative writing test we are assessed in. I love to write my heart out. To pick up a pen, to type on a keyboard just to release the feelings I kept so locked away to release that of an imaginary world filled with creatures that I call, ‘friends.’ My imagination can never be tamed. It’s like a ravage beast that is always hungry and must have something after another.

Yet I’m torn between the fact of reality and my dreams to collide from time to time. I want to go to uni and study what I want but it’s a matter of time and place isn’t it? I finished year 11 and now I have to face year 12. So the many question I ask is, what do you choose to do when your parents want you to do something but you want to do another?