through the horm hole of the eyes.

So, its late at night and I found my self reading song of fire and ice in my bedroom in school and a scene flashed through my mind.

I'm a little girl sitting in the sitting room of my house, beside me, my siblings...well, little versions of them. My father takes a seat and I hear my mother giggling as our maid made a report from the kitchen. There is a scent in the air. I close my eyes to identify what it is. Afang soup. Yes. No one would mess up that scent with any other. My dad points a finger to us and asks.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
I hear laughter from my siblings, as we all basically take it with a stride. I'm not sure how young we were, but looking at my elder brother's small face and the scene of or old house, I'd say, pretty young. Something about this scene bothers me. Why is my father nodding his head? I can't hear what he says next, but I'm sure I don't like it. Then, I heard his words after.

"All my children must study engineering." Looking at his expression, one would think he just found a equation to solve a mathematical theory.

"No." I heard my self say before I could even register my words. Seeing as his expression remained as it does till this day, I'd say he was very disappointed. I don't blame him, I was a pretty annoying child.

"All my children must study science" He amended and I frowned.

"I'll study what I want." I said. the scene dissolved like harry potter flashing through memory scenes inside Dumbledore's pensive.

My eyes are wet. I feel a liquid drip down my cheeks and reach for it. Why am I crying? I wondered. There could be nothing wrong with that sweet memory.

Lies. Human beings have been lying since the beginning of time. Lying for personal gain, Lying for money, Lying for love,... I could go on, but we're telling a story here.
Above all of the lies we could ever tell, the ones to our self, were the most vicious and stood at the highest peek of self degradation.

I don't quite remember a childhood where I was a calm and rational child. For those who have read my previous post, you'd remember I said, I don't have the most listening of fathers. Or better yet, the most understanding.

My childhood consisted of a cycle.
a) I have something to say. (which may or may not concern my life.)
b) I'm delusional about the idea that I should tell my parents.
c) I say what I can (which may not be the best of explanations)
d) My parents behave as though they understood, or were in fact listening at all.
e) They repeat what they think I said or do what they think I said or counter what they think I said.
f) I explain my heart out.
g) They give me the she is saying nonsense again look.
h) I try to get their attention and fail.
i) I explode like an atomic bomb of anger. (saying words I would regret the moment I sober up.)
j) I wake up the next day, the worst child that walked the earth.
k) I stupidly try I again.

Contrary to popular opinion, I'm quite the slow child. It would take me forever to get a message. My siblings had it cut out for them. Their entire existence were to my parent's specifications. I, on the other hand, tried to let my existence be accepted. While, they had already learnt to not try.

If there is anything I learnt through all my years on earth, it's to find my own way. Today, I may not seem like the most communicative about my feelings, but that is something I just learnt. I have found peace in my mind, a kind of peace that could kill me, but peace all the same.

I  expect nothing. I ask nothing, except to be left alone. When one ever gets pass the smiling face, one might find the girl in the room sitting on a chair.