one handsome boy
my father would occasionally stop me, call me over and grab my face to study it in earnest. after a moment, he would say ‘you’re a handsome boy.’
he’d also show me off in front of his friends - he’d pull out an atlas and goad them to quiz me on world capitals - i knew them all.
at the time, i thought these actions were compliments (the only ones he ever gave me), but they were just performances of pride - not even mine, his.
without any other kind of encouragement at home, my vanity and recall became cornerstones of my identity. i’d use them to coast through friendships and school - then relationships and work.
i dropped out of university, showed up late to the office, philandered with the worst of them.
eventually, my own performances caught up to me - i found myself jobless, homeless, no education, no savings, no family - i didn’t even know how to use public transport.
no one could help me. i still remember the day that i was to be kicked out of accommodation unless i asked a local charity for help.
admitting that i was that vulnerable was the hardest thing i ever had to do, but i had no choice - and that day was the beginning of when i started to learn the basics of being human.
i started taking the train, cooking healthy meals, going for runs. i even finished my diploma.
though i still know a lot of world capitals and have a haircut twice a month, there is more to me now - and i keep it just for myself.