Shallow
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Shallow - M. J. Al Serkal
Author
Guilt + Love
Walking into the room, I was flustered by the notion of guilt, and wondered if I did the right thing. It was a state of being alone, needing a rescue or maybe a call for help. Breathing heavily, I sat down; my window overlooked the pale green fields. Children were playing, smiling and exuding happiness. Why couldn’t I join them? Why can’t I be part of their happiness? As I contemplated my desires of enjoyment, a door suddenly opens; there she was, the most beautiful person in my world, a person to look up to, a savior, my mother.
What’s wrong, why are you so desperately sad?
she said. This hit me hard as I couldn’t understand if she was asking me to be sad or if she wants me to have a problem. Nothing mother, I am just sitting; I want to sit, I think I should sit, or maybe, no, yes, actually yes. I want to sit, it makes me feel better.
Confused by my words, I couldn’t understand if I should be angry, but I am quite moody. I am scared really. I want help, but I couldn’t ask for it.
You should face your fears and join your friends. You must be free of this sickness, fight it,
said mother. She was referring to my diagnosis of being somewhat autistic, which I completely do not agree with. I just don’t like people. I know I may be 12 years old, but I don’t want to sit with them. I can’t sit with them. I love being alone, feeling void or shallow of love, being with myself. Why is it always apparent that we all should stay together, to smile together? Why was I put into a situation where I felt in total disbelief of partnering with strangers? This again fueled my anger; subtle as it may be, I was definitely not happy with her questioning. Meeting these children is like meeting a new object that I have to interact with, opening up to a person and letting them in your life was always an issue for me, because frankly I do not see the use of it.
Life is about finding your way dear; it is about meeting your soul mate, your friend, and your happiness, living your life full of joy. It is a learning process, a way to be more knowledgeable of your surroundings, to be more aware of your emotions. It is not necessarily interacting with the children, but interacting with nature as well. C’mon Chloe,
she insisted. Let’s join the outdoors,
mother said, as she shed a cold tear onto her white Kashmir coat, which she loved so dearly. This baffled me. Why was my mother, day in and day out, so upset that I am enjoying my loneliness? I am free of this so-called outdoors education, a barbaric form of knowledge, which I feel is bizarrely useless. Isn’t reading Shakespeare and learning about Edouard Manet more important than knowing what child number three did on his Monday afternoon? But as challenging as my thoughts provoked me, I must find it in myself to trust my mother’s