1 views
Wilk and the centre of the universe 2
I remember 7, 8, and 9. Those were the moments I knew to be true.
Between 7 and 8, there was a counting lesson. A finger raised as the teacher counted, her eyes searching. Even at that young age, I wanted to be seen, to find the answers I sought. So, I boldly said, "9." A silence followed, a moment of shock, and then laughter erupted. My childlike mistake, unable to count from 1 to 10, was shockingly amusing.
Amidst that counting, I distinctly recalled the laughter, an eerie sense of déjà vu, as if I had already known Kevin's response before he spoke the words. He said, "It's 8, stupid." But I had already spoken those words.
Kevin, seated two places behind me to my left, stared at me with bewilderment and confusion. I returned his gaze, equally puzzled, even though my intention had been to hear him say those very words.
Then, Kevin said, "Then why are you making mistakes, stupid?" And once again, I had already spoken the words meant for him.
Kevin stood there, stunned, his eyes reflecting a mix of fury and, I dare say, fear.
That clarity, however brief, lingered for two seconds before I was struck with a chilling sensation of truth. But, in a heartbeat, I was a six-year-old boy again, gazing at the whiteboard with wonder and a burning desire to learn. Within me, though, whispers were born.
© Seakay Margiadanae
Between 7 and 8, there was a counting lesson. A finger raised as the teacher counted, her eyes searching. Even at that young age, I wanted to be seen, to find the answers I sought. So, I boldly said, "9." A silence followed, a moment of shock, and then laughter erupted. My childlike mistake, unable to count from 1 to 10, was shockingly amusing.
Amidst that counting, I distinctly recalled the laughter, an eerie sense of déjà vu, as if I had already known Kevin's response before he spoke the words. He said, "It's 8, stupid." But I had already spoken those words.
Kevin, seated two places behind me to my left, stared at me with bewilderment and confusion. I returned his gaze, equally puzzled, even though my intention had been to hear him say those very words.
Then, Kevin said, "Then why are you making mistakes, stupid?" And once again, I had already spoken the words meant for him.
Kevin stood there, stunned, his eyes reflecting a mix of fury and, I dare say, fear.
That clarity, however brief, lingered for two seconds before I was struck with a chilling sensation of truth. But, in a heartbeat, I was a six-year-old boy again, gazing at the whiteboard with wonder and a burning desire to learn. Within me, though, whispers were born.
© Seakay Margiadanae
