Often I get lost in my mind.

I’m always lost in my mind. I always go back to the time when I was quite naive. Where I would sit by the beach, sea shore, or whichever name one would want to call it. Thing is, class had never been my thing. I always felt that it was a jail of other peoples’ interests. The library was like a port to me. Yes, a port of vast knowledge. I would be immensely burried in books. See, the thing with the library was that it was a place where uncertainty was always real. I’d always travel from one place to another. I’d be anything I’d want. At this point I might seem like an over grown kid getting excited about candy.  This overgrown kid has just had a fresh bout of sugar rush. I was in love with the vast knowledge of information. I would basically read anything. From arithmetics to motoring stuff and arts.

“Put your books away for now”, momma often told me.

“Your food will get cold”, she’d yell.

Her voice tonation would be slightly higher than normal. Mama was blessed with a voice louder than the angels of doom trumpets. Wait. She’ll get mad if she found out that I used to mimick her voice especially when she was cross with me.

She always encouraged me not to put my dreams away. Not for a single soul nor cent. Core fundamentals perhaps? With her love and care, I never really worried about most things that kids of my age would fuss themselves with. I was weird. I always knew that. I paid attention to little details that didn’t seem to concern my bloody mind.

“Your already home where you feel love”, my family would always tell me.

I knew I was home whenever I felt father’s car engine roar idly in our parking yard. Brother’s car always revved abit loudly. He always came home dead in the night. His car roar would rather upset the other neighbors’ cars. And they would make funny noises. At that time I didn’t know that they were called alarms.

Wisdom was all that I wished for. With wisdom; love, money, power and strength would all fall in place. I was an avid reader of the holy book back then.

Soon I found a new love. The Piano. It’s no biggy. Most kids my age learnt to play the piano when they were young. They’d experiment with church songs and other simplistic songs that would bore the hell out of my inner core.

I loved the library. It was always a part of me. I always searched for complex beats and symphonies so that I’d play them in my free time. I got banished from the church choir just because I played songs which were not church like. They called them demonic. But I was gifted in my lifetime. It was like a curse. My fingers just couldn’t stop playing the keys. They started with a low, then the mid and the high keys. At every attempt I became much more talented. A year later I did complex notes, chords, and occasionally I played Beethoven’s infamous beats. Forgive me. But to me they were just beats. They were special. They had this melancholic feeling attached at every key I played. At every strum of the guitar I strucked a euphoric feeling always washed me.

Whenever that feeling came, I’d think of mother’s pancakes back home, I’d think of engines purring at our front yard. How brother would wipe his glistening forehead with his hand whilst holding a spanner with the other hand. Father would often flash a wry smile often coming from the far end corners of his lips. I would always wonder if the county government ever repaired the bloody roads leading to our home.


Is it any wonder why we all often leave home? Some would say they left for the money, some got someone new and  others started a family. While the rest would give a whole sack of a million reasons why they were leaving.

You’d bump into someone who would often say, “I knew you when you were eight years old. You’re that boy who could serenade Hellena of Troy  just by how you played the piano and the guitar. But the piano has been your stronghold.”

I would be forced to smile, and I’d have to bare with their insolent ways.

“But I have changed, I have changed. I’m all big and grown up”. I would say.

Then at this point they would yap and yammer on how the years have gone by. At this point I’d wish I’d have bought that coffin downtown so that I wouldn’t have to listen to you.

I’m not so great with peoples skills. See, we gifted people as you guys like to call us are always blessed with a curse. We all have this talent and potential but it’s never given to the right person. Only our life and works are celebrated after we have long gone in the most antagonistic manner.


I have always wanted to travel to many places in the world. I’ve only visited these places in my mind or dreams. I’ve been to Malta, Perth, Durban, Latvia and the likes. I’ve always thought that now I’m a great maestro good at multiple instruments. Perhaps I could visit the places while doing a concert. Sounds fair enough? But a boy could only dream. Isn’t it? I have no worries nor qualms about finding places where I can go. I don’t want to be that soul who would only visit these places when I’m telling stories with other boys in the grave yard. We never choose where we want to be burried. A cemetery won’t be a bad place if you got stranded in a strange town. The more the tomb stones the merrier the party is. Right?


I met Marylin at some cemetery in Pretoria. It was a Halloween party which was held at a cemetery in Pretoria. I was invited to show my prowess there. The crowd went wild. She was never much of a church person. But her mother ensured that she always carried her Bible everywhere she went. You would never find her face in church on Sundays.

At this party we were all hiding behind masks and cosplay costumes. It seemed fun to them but not to me. Nothing seemed funny. Apart from Marylin’s smile. She tried her best to smile.

She made a wish. It was a simple wish. That her parents would see where she was right now. And see that their little princess was all grown up.

She said to me, “One day we’ll be ghosts. Tripping around someone else’s home. One day we will be found. Our identity will be unmasked. We will stop hiding our faces and bodies with masks and fancy cosplay costumes”.

She believed in the simple notion; where light is present, darkness shall be there. At the end of every darkness there was a dawn to the new day ahead.

“One day we will stop hiding. We’ll be found. Perhaps we’d just be hanging around”. Marylin said to me.

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