My Lurid Past
Chapter One
Have you ever looked at someone in the street
and wished you had their life? Just like that,
without knowing anything real about them?
Because it happens to me all the time.
Yesterday I saw a girl getting off the bus at
Westbourne Grove: pink fleecy sweater,
lime-green lacy skirt, a fake fuschia flower in
her dark hair, big trendy trainers which made
her thin ankles look almost spindly. Matte white
skin, straight black fringe and narrow hips.
Notting Hill goes to Chinatown. She didn't look
at all like me. I wanted to be that girl so
badly I could feel the yearning around me like
an aura.
It's not that I dislike my life, or my clothes.
But somehow they're never enough. Without giving
up myself, I want to be the girl on the bus too.
Every time I walk into a clothes store I want
every nice thing on the racks, no matter if it
doesn't suit me, still less if I already have an
item so similar at home that nobody but me would
know the difference between them. I still crave
them.
At this point you may well be thinking that this
must be the shallowest expression of
dissatisfaction imagin ... read full excerpt from: My Lurid Past ebook
