I wish I could go back in time and leave this world with you, because ever since you shuffled off this mortal coil, I have been subjected to so many painful occurrences. All of what I have been going through stems from the day that my aunt adopted me. Not that I didn’t get love and care from her, but the soul-shattering feelings of being separated from my father and siblings never let me live happily, not even for a day. My aunt told me that my father was my uncle. But how could I have accepted it as truth when the blood that runs in my veins clamoured otherwise?!
Mom, I remember the amount of happiness as high as mountains when my father and siblings paid me a brief visit. And I remember the amount of sadness as horrible as anything when it was time to wave each other goodbye. I remember keeping clipped nails of my brother to hug them when I was back at my aunt’s.
Mom, people had never been kind to me. Unless I put on a face full of gloom, I was an infirm insect to be stepped on. And I never dared to stick up for myself. Doing things in my favour felt too dreadful an experience. Thus, I let them swallow this little passive me whole.
Mom, since you’d left this un-bloomed flower too soon, I was in desperate need of my father’s and siblings’ love, of my home. This ‘neediness’ had me weep my heart out in washrooms. There were moments here when I felt totally torn. And there seemed to be none I would pour my heart out to. I was nearly dead; some alive cell lying somewhere deep in my body kept up my survival.
Mom, one day I was travelling to see my siblings, but the car broke down en-route and I cried like a baby. I am afraid to recall my experiences because they bring back the horrors I’d been subjected to, and I am not strong enough to stand them.
Mom, as years wore on, my mental health took a turn for the worse. Brimming with zillions of nasty emotions threatening my life, I started drawing on cigarettes. This has weakened me to the core. But I am afraid nothing seems helping me.
Mom, I have never been to college in three years. I am afraid of everything, of teachers, of students, of lectures. And it feels as if I am losing everyone. I even went to doctors to wipe out this pitiless beast that resides deep within me, but it’s strong enough to come to life time and again.
Mom, I have grown too weak on the inside; at times, I become dangerously suicidal. But then I gaze at my hands, and my conscience curses me right away. I am in pain. In terrible pain!
Mom, I have never seen you, not even in dream. I am in terrible need of your blessings.
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