The Old Rugged Chair – A Short Story

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My legs are speaking to me now, “Do we have to go any further?”I heaved a quick sigh, today isn’t any different from the rest, this road, this path is lonely. Who cares about a crazy girl, all innocent looking, dressed like ‘I heard the late night news’? Who gives two pence about a girl that looks like Jane Eyre’s boring story, plugged and deafened? who admires her? My mother would say, I blocked out all the little sanity I could give out, I thought that was pretty lame to change my mind. Gosh! That’s all I get for being me?

I’m always wearing a non-fitted top, and I wear skirts every time, that sucks right? Not to me. I don’t do the hair thing, not interested.*rollmyeyes* Please this girl is a handful and she knows it, many have spent their years trying…Like I care. Excuse me, by the way, I’m Tammy and I don’t have explanations for such a name. P.S -Considered changing it.

Don’t wonder why I’m talking to you about this because you’ll need to just find out. Newsflash! I am a loner and I have my reasons. You just might be me, but I’m sure we have a thing in common. You have parents, don’t you? A dad and a mom. Not begging you to pay attention but I bet you’ll need to. I’m Tammy and this my script.

My earphones still plugged and I’m at my usual spot, an old wooden chair that sat at the back of my house. I call it ‘my old rugged chair’, my family wondered why I loved sitting out at the back but it’s the only place I’ve ever ran to, though I hope to run away for real soon. Let me date back to the genesis… I should be one of the perfect childhood girls that roam the streets with faked smiles and sissy attitude but that world was not made for me. I think if your life is perfect, you should rent a flat in Disney land.

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As a young child, I loved to sit on my own and watch everyone do the talking. I am the only girl in my family and that is just perfect for me. My dad is a dad and my mom is a mom, and Tammy is a girl, that was how it was and how it felt, I lived like the meaning of a word. Through definition. I loved to imagine and I had silly friends that were my friends only to laugh at my stories, my brother was my client, the only business we had together is being siblings. He was just a kid anyway, what is he suppose to know? I loved to write then, imagining I was in another country and had a different life and all I see is my mother hurting me and my father not bothered. Everything I did made her snap at me and I hated it, she nagged a lot when it comes to me and I could almost say. “Hold up ma’am!”, I shouted within, ” Please grab that fork and run it through me, would it make you feel better?”. To her, I frown a lot and smile less, maybe you should have named me Sunset, not Tammy.

I ran to my rugged chair and it took me without objection and heard my cries, I never knew I could sit and just be fine. I knew there is always that chair waiting for me.

Temitoria

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