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English Alive anthology. Selborne College, East London, is extremely proud to announce that Selborne College Grade 12 learner, Mandré Strydom, has had his essay selected for publication in the prestigious English Alive anthology.
This national publication features submissions from schools across South Africa, with over 300 entries received this year. Mandré’s work was included – marking the first time in Selborne history that a learner’s writing has been published in this anthology.
Congratulations, Mandré, on this outstanding achievement!
𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 – 𝓫𝔂 𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓭é 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝔂𝓭𝓸𝓶
Dear Caregivers
Thank you for everything. I wonder if people are as scared as I am to give care sometimes. All they know is how to take but, to not seem too bad, we made caregivers and caretakers mean the same thing. Sorry, I guess some things are funny sometimes.
Dear Love
You haunt me, sorry I can’t repay you. I wonder if this will ever happen again. I better hold on, because who knows.
Dear Overthinkers
I’m sorry, but not everything has hidden meaning behind it. If you started looking at things as is, you wouldn’t need to change your pants everyday… but what if that old lady down the street sees me walking my dog again tomorrow and I’m wearing a similar pair of pants and her old eyes have seen too much to need to see a difference between the ones I wore yesterday and now today even though I swear to you they are different. But she doesn’t know that, how could I know that she knows that? Does she remember what pants I wore yesterday? I wonder if people take note of things like that, other than me. My brain hurts from trying to guess how everyone is feeling about the weather and if they know who wrote the soundtrack for “The Lion King”.
Dear Mrs Collop from Grade 2
I still thank you for that compliment you gave me when the class was making brownies and you said I could sieve the flour into the bowl really well. I learnt it from my grandma. Sorry you burnt the first batch.
Dear “American Psycho”
I’m sorry that you’re such a great movie that I would never get around to watch you. I fear that I won’t “get it” so you’ll just stay in a perpetual state of “on my watch list” like half of the other things I’m too scared of watching. But I’ll pose as a lover of all of those cult classics in case someone else might know the movie and love it as much as I think I would. I don’t know, maybe I am just overthinking it.
Dear Past Feelings
Are you sick of me saying I’m sorry yet, just like everyone else? The outside is scary. I miss my closet and its warmth. The smell of shoes and damp coats never bothered me too much. I don’t remember much from inside there; I remember the spider-webs on the top corners that were empty, it was just a beautiful pattern made only to be left alone, I guess even the spiders were willing to abandon me.
Dear Dad
I’m sorry. I miss you.
Dear Mom
I’m sorry, tell dad to pick up.
Dear pain
Sorry, I’m grateful, but don’t you think that that was a bit much?
Dear the Smell of Good Books
Thanks for being there for me when I worried about the punctuation of an “I love you” message. Sorry for the water damage on pages where the kid with cancer dies and all that’s left to remember of him is when his mother is telling him to “keep fighting”, and he bursts out crying “it’s a bear Momma, it’s a big brown bear!” That’s all his childlike mind can manage to punch out to help her understand, while he tries to clear up that it’s not like Barney and doesn’t want to be friends. “The bear is scary, I’m scared of the bear, Momma.” Then it hits her. Momma’s little boy has contemplated death so many times over and over he’s picked what colour flowers he wants at his funeral. I want dark maroon, he has thought about his own death enough times to visualise his impending doom as a bear. And Momma’s broken. She cries out with actual, physical pain. Her precious gift is taken away. He is leaving her. He knows he’s going but he just doesn’t know where yet.
How broken do you need to be until people give up on trying to piece you back together? Or until you give up on trying to piece you back? How many times do I have to say “I’m sorry” until you realise broken is past tense? By Mandré Strydom
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