The thought of you kills me

Chapter One - Home

Authors  note -

"The greatest successes come from having the freedom to fail" Mark Zuckerberg

The quote that has started it all, the reason I have plucked up the courage to press publish, because no matter how unrefined I think my work might be, there is no room for improvement with no idea what direction I should be heading.

The quote is definitely not me saying this book will be a success, it's highlighting my hope to have freedom within myself and not be scared of failure, failure can bring about the change you need to grow.

To who ever has chosen this story and given it a chance, thank you. Please leave a comment, don't be afraid to highlight anything that you think needs improvement, I'm writing to make you happy xo

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Six years later

I slowly jogged around the edge of the forest, following the hiking trail down to the lake not to far from the house. It was early morning, I could see the sun rising in the distance, the birds were waking up and singing in the trees. The small things make me feel all fuzzy inside, I was trying to appreciate them more considering how long I had been away. The cold morning breeze brushed in over the lake, sending a slight chill through my body, I started too jog a little faster to warm myself up. I was doing my early morning run to the lake and back. It became apart of my routine after the few weeks I had been home, I had felt lost being back, needed something to clear my mind of all my worries. I had a lot of studying to do and university made it a little bit harder to fit the run in everyday, but persistence is key, graduation was just around the corner and my dissertation seemingly never-ending is almost complete. I was excited after all this time, I found some peace in myself, finally coming to a decision that I wanted to follow the same path as mum to be an academic. I always find it funny that you never understand why your parents make certain choices when you're growing up, until you're an adult and you're having to make all those decisions for yourself.

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Present

Melanin, I am in love with all of my melanin, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. It is a love that has taken years to grow in to, as a little black girl, but it's there. I was born and raised in Bergen, Norway I have been surrounded by blonde hair and blue eyes since before I can even remember. There was a point in my life where I envied having lighter skin and straighter hair, for my facial features to mirror some of the people I love the most, but that was a mentality I grew out of. I grew in to my skin.

I never was a very outgoing child, and I wouldn't describe myself as an extrovert even now. The bubbly outgoing one in the family has always undoubtedly been my older sister Saskia. She will never say it out-loud yet her need for attention has always been there, some could say its due to the environment we grew up in. All of the extra attention from our peers, kids in pre-school were always asking innocent questions about our skin or our hair. All of the curiosity around why the colour of my skin was different and why my long black curly hair would not hang straight, but shrink with even just the slightest addition of water, it left me queasy I enjoyed keeping to myself. A huge amount of my time is spent if not studying or hanging out with my best friend Astrid, curled up in a corner somewhere reading a book. 

My grandparents library, a home away from home, one of if not my absolute favourite place In the world. It has been the constant fuel to my burning desire, to be entangled in a true love story.  Books are and always have been a huge part of my life, I've spent years combing through fiction books envying their fairytale endings, why does the girl always end up with the guy she's always wanted. 

I started reading at a young age to occupy the time, our parents were constantly away for work, despite that I have a fond memories of the past. Me and Saskia's sibling relationship grew stronger as we spent more time together, our parents relying on Saskia to walk me home from school and make sure I had breakfast in the mornings. We didn't always get along, but that is only natural, I think she enjoyed finding ways to annoy me. On one occasion she successfully managed to drag me away from a book, with the master plan of discovering how many books a household could have, we attempted to count each one in our grandparents library.  We gave up counting barely 5 minutes in, we smelt cookies and no questions were asked as we both went bounding out of the library towards the kitchen, where we knew our grandma would be waiting for us with a fresh tray of cookies and a glass of milk.

Its the fond memories of the past that have brought a smile to my face over the past few days, as all attempts at distracting myself have failed miserable, even trying to read a book felt more like torture, my attempt to get lost in a fairytale just wasn't working. Instead I've kept to myself per usual, but lost in thought  as childhood memories take centre stage in my mind. Memories of all the times grandma managed to find the corners I had hidden myself away in, she would plan treasure hunts in the forest just over the fence in the backyard, take us swimming in the lake on sweltering summer days. It upset me that all my happy memories were now plagued with sadness, at the mere thought of what life will be like without being able to run in to my grandmas arms almost everyday. 

I let out a deep sigh as I glanced out of my bedroom window at the night sky, squinting to see all the tiny stars visible to my naked eye, wondering if I would be able to see any at all from my new bedroom window over a thousand miles away in London.

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