Clear : Letter No. 1

So i wrote this in 2013. This was heavily inspired by The Perks of Being a Wallflower, my most favourite novel at the time. Still have no idea what i wanna do with this one. Enjoy!

3rd of February 2013     

Dear Friends,

                My name is Clear. Yes Clear, not Claire. Like the adjective that goes with water or air. I hope you won’t be angry if i don't tell you my last name. I just cant do that. It is hard for me to tell you the reason. Since i am not very good with the words. Seemingly I just cant find the right one to explain my complicated reasons to you.

                I know My Mom, Pam, would say that i have issues with my fear of being known. Like she used to say when i shouted wrathfully to her ‘Why did you tell those girls what my name is? “ during my first day in kindergarten. “Coz They want to be your friends and you dont even lift your eyes to look at them. For Godsake Clear! Finding new friends is what a first day at school should be about!” Then i just walked away and left her behind. Looked for some spot to sit and scratch my nails on the ground.

                I also won’t tell you the real name of the people i am writing here. I will name them they way i want them to be named. But some of them will be called just the way they really are. Provided it has already been the right one for them.

                Perhaps you’re wondering how would i know whether its already been the right name for a person. Well you know, it is like when a skinny, tall and pretty girl with blond hair and evil ─or dumb blue eyes came to you and tell you that her name was Britney. Then you instantly agreed with her parents to have named her so because Britney Spears has just flashed your thought. 

                Unlike Pam, who enjoys fame and being exposed, i could tell she was happy when a shopkeeper in nearby store recognize her at once as a showgirl in some place he used to go many years ago during his youth days which he couldnt even tell the exact time, anonymity secures and comforts me.

                No one would remember me for any stupidity i have uttered. Or any foolishness i have conducted. Even though the evidence was there, but no one could ever tell who is responsible because not even one person could tell who the hell is this red head who was here a while ago. It feels like a privilege. You may do what you please without having to bear the impact.  

                Talking about privilege, i have found this word in English class today. I must say i am in love with this subject. Where students have to learn more about something they even use daily. Like it isnt enough to make them master it even though they use language like every breath of their life. Especially for Moira. I was kind of expecting her to be the best in English class since she makes up story faster than the internet. What people call these days the ‘gossip’ stories. But she proves to be a disappointment to me. I bet she would have failed every test if that brown head in the class corner did not pass her answer sheets during every test. I guess she is called Myrtle or something like that.

                We were assigned to read a book that we may choose ourselves. The books were all laid on the Mr. Henney’s desk. One by one the students came forward to pick the book we pleased. I grabbed the nearest book my hand could reach and returned fast to my seat. I read a classic British story which title i didnt give a damn. But the word privilege kept coming out till i have to look it up in Lyn’s huge Oxford dictionary. Another Myrtle in my English class.

                We were told to continue on reading at home and write our review about it. Now i haven’t finished it yet. Yet i prefer to write this for you because i can’t sleep now. If i heard it right, the deadline is some days 2 weeks ahead so there’s no need to rush.

                I just need my ‘me’ time right now. Talking─ or writing to you. If i keep doing nothing, i know i would have ruined my nails again to steady my self and end up being slapped again by Pam. She always hates it when i put any marks on exposed part of my body. She has been a fan of my look especially my skin. She would say i may not ruin her masterpiece by hurting any part of it. She complains a lot about her ‘not so beautiful’ skin. She wants my flawless skin (i quoted the word ‘flawless’ from her, for me it is just ‘deathly pale’) which she claims to be initially hers but decided to just keep it in her gene so she could passed it on me.

                Somehow i just cant believe a word of her about me, my body, my self or about the most sensitive topic in our house─ my father. She said he was a dirty man with bad look. “Not even good in the bed. Not even smelled good. Not even handsome. Just a plain guy” she said. However i just know, even i know that she knows i inherit this so called beautiful appearances from him.

                Once when i was much younger she asked me with a half emptied bottle of tequila in her hand, “Hey Clear, how does it feel to be a redhead?” with eyes remain closed she continued, “Do you feel fierce and fearless like he used to fuss about? I feel like having those feelings right now!” I dint quiet understand what she meant at that time. I just supposed she was bored with her fair hair. Next thing i did was finding her a leaflet about new hairstylist salon in town which ended up in the kitchen rubbish bin. Apparently she didn’t remember a thing about what she had said the night before.

                But it was a big deal because i finally knew a thing about my father. He had had  red hair just like me. Which i think should had been known by me long ago coz there was no other options in where did i get this hair in a very first place.

                Hhhmm, what else can i tell you? It is getting hard for me to keep my palms in place now. Ah ya my age! I heard you wondering. Sorry but i cant tell this either. You figure out yourself. Him said you are the brainy one. But i assure you i am neither middle age nor under age. Perhaps big enough to climb The Great Wall of China.

                 Ah yes Him! Him is the main reason we can correspond right now. Him was the one who advised me to write to you whenever i feel like it. Him said it is better than scratching my lovely fingers. Him is  very nice. No no, nice is not enough. Him is more than nice. Him is an enjoyable company. Him is the only one who knows and is allowed to keep my secrets. Him even made one of himself for me to keep.

                I think i have written enough already. I bet you will like Him like i do very much when you both meet someday. Because every other person does. Even the men-hater, Pam, doesnt mind being around him. Thanks for willing to accompany me tonight. I’ll need you for the other nights. Please dont get bored. I have registered for literature club today only so that i can improve my writing skill. Thus you won’t get bored the other day. Please stay with me and keep reading my story. I really am in need of a loyal company.

With Love,

Clear

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