I stepped into the elevator to go home today and caught my reflection in the mirror. I liked what I saw. I especially liked my hair colour. I asked my hairdresser to lighten it up about a month ago. My mind drifted back to the very first time I colour my hair. I did not have an expectation as to what it was going to be like. I did not really choose the colour - my hairdresser at the time did (he was brilliant!!). I had a hair cut and walked away with chocolate hair with orange streaks. Perhaps not that orange, but it was orange enough in my eyes at the time.
Sometimes I think I just forget to grow up.
Bits and pieces of my life serve as constant reminders that I am fast approaching my thirties. Yet deep inside I feel like I am still that 17 years old girl who started her first year in college being so clueless about life. I remember feeling so young, so naive and I remember telling myself to grow up. I still feel the same way today. Maybe I just never grew up.
Sometimes it feels like my whole life is one long dream, one that I never want to wake up from.
I exercised the notion of dreaming a lot as a way to escape reality. The reality that my parents were getting a divorce and mum worked herself up to the extent that it was a sin to be happy around her. I wanted to be happy so desperately, but I could not share that with her. Growing up, I thought I was estranged from her. That experience certainly sealed the deal.
I can no longer pretend that we are one happy family. We are not a happy family.
In my dreams, we take family vacations every year and we chat to each other every day. In my dreams, we have this invincible bond that is thicker than blood. In my dreams, we actually like each other.
These days, I dream differently.
I dream about reliving my college days.
I dream about being this person I forgot to be.
I dream about being myself.
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