Growing up having to lie to my dad about my whereabouts, where I lived then and having to pretend that I couldn’t recognise his voice whenever he’d call were habits my mother programmed into my young mind with the hopes of cutting him out of our lives, for that reason, I will never really judge my dad for never being there for us, nor will I ever judge my mother for making that decision for us. Once or twice in my life, mother has had the laugh to tell me how weird it is that I act just like my dad though I didn’t get much of a chance to adopt his habits, good or bad. We may not agree with everything our parents do, it may get hard to get along, to hold on to the bonds we’re meant to have with them, though they are still the reason we’re here, and in them, I bet my life.
Time after time the words “true colours” are burdened with a connotation that implies a once hidden ugliness, an ugliness that was once facaded with a beauty that was bound to fade away.
Written by Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly, a Cyndi Lauper hit titled “True Colours” spent two weeks at #1 on the Billboard Hot 100, originally inspired by a mothers love and how we grow up mistaking a mothers intentions, a mothers love for animosity, this number is inspired by how a mother would much rather be ‘hated’ by their child than to have them at harm’s way till the child grows up and starts to see and understand the “true colours” of their mothers love, the true lengths a mother has taken for the child… underneath all the shouting and disciplinary actions lies the purest kind of something good.
Often labelled as “soft”, Mr “Nice-Guy” because of my layedback and non-retaliative nature, my views may not be common, though how I see it, “soft” can only be alive when “hard” feelings aren’t alive, unmoved, one sees no reason to be hard-headed, to retaliate. Growing up, I was taught not to expect special favors from people though getting special favours every now and again is pleasant, when I don’t get any or when I get the opposite, I am seldom moved, simply because I never expect much from people, which is why I am more inclined than the average person to let it roll off my back… to let it go.
With our bodies so tightly wrapped around our souls, our souls wrapped with our bodies one can never know another’s soul too well, at least not well enough to understand the reasons behind every move, to understand every move behind each reason, seasons change but people don’t, season after season, choreography remains the same, pleasing numbers step for step, pirouette for pirouette, our intentions remain the same.
“I savour hate as much as I crave love” are words from a Biffy Clyro number, words that only a twisted guy is supposed to relate to, words that remind us that you have to be six feet deep under the ground to reach cloud nine, no, cloud infinity as the good book only promises eternal happiness, love without (the) lust on the other side, where angels fly where nobody cries, under the dust, above the skies.