Day 18

I envy these people that have taken a photo of themselves every day for years. I wish I had done that.

I told my Ma that I wish I had done that and she told me it’s not too late, that I could start now. But I’ve missed it I always seem to miss it.

I wonder how you’d feel if you looked back and you hadn’t changed? Imagine that. You still had that awkward 15 year old smile – biting your bottom lip like you just snuck a look up Katie’s skirt or you’re wondering whether Ma will notice you’ve been hiding the light beers behind the pot of soup in the fridge and you’re going to take them tonight after NCSI. That wouldn’t be worth it at all, to take all those photos and realise that. I guess that’s why I never did it, now I think of it.

Someone said to me the other day – that car is so you.

I like it, I think.

What was I going to say to this person? That bag is so you? It wasn’t.

That’s who I feel sorry for the most, I think. Not the people with those huge brown moles building a fort between their lips and nostrils like some sinus conqueror. Not like everyone thinks – they know it, at least. These people who haven’t yet overtaken objects in depth of character. They’re the ones.

What was so her? Nothing; she wasn’t even really her. I think that makes sense? How did that feel? She had this sort of gay haircut. Shaved up the side. It wasn’t her, she was it. It was a whole generation of teenagers from Christian families from the North Shore. It came with a Nirvana CD (well, it used to – I’m not sure what it’d be now) and leather boots with laces that don’t reach the top holes – the most important holes for full orthotic support, any bootmaker will tell you. It’s a year before your mother either buys a Porsche or becomes a lesbian and your accountant Father just can’t add it all up and all of a sudden you’re at this dysfunctional family lunch in a dive Viet restaurant restaurant because we’re pretending we’ve got no money. Ma because lesbians should never have money, it’s part of the whole thing, right? Paps for the divorce settlement and you with your that’s so you because it’s the only way you can excuse the old school jumper from a school you never went to.

I told her I liked her hair and her mother grabbed her hand.

by Sparrokei