Something I wrote when I was a prepubescent delinquent who yearned for a skateboard day and night

With one swift motion of my miniscule firing paw, I found myself abruptly slamming a dull white slab of wood, closing me off from the anger inhabiting the room just outside. I was an impubescent, scrawny eight year old. That was the only excuse besides my momentary, yet immense infatuation, for rudely whiplashing my vulgar feelings right at my parents faces.

Due to my ‘tom-boy’, rebellious phase as a kid, I developed this preposterous need to show everything off, and be considered cool, instead of girly. Of course as a result, I demanded a skateboard. The thought of the spinning wheels on the heated crisp summer pavement, and wind crashing into every crease of my clothes excited me. I pined for this plank of wood and glue with wheels attached, for weeks. Until finally I stepped up, ready to exhibit my request, or more so my demand.

A bead of sweat rolled down my left temple. My expectations were peaking, I knew that I would absolutely shoot down no for an answer, leaving with a grin screaming satisfaction on my face. After my complete oblivion to my surroundings and the possibilities of outcomes to my proposition, I plummeted down as if I were some barbaric peasant from another planet.

My quick witted, rational parents, sprung to decline my demand due to my derogatory behaviour that was vastly spiralling out of hand. In addition to this, I take you back to the beginning. Me, my anger and the door that severed me from my feelings and dire reality.