So, do you want to know how it feels to be the only one who’s fallen in love? If you ask her, she’ll tell you. She’ll tell you how she loves a boy who doesn’t love her back. She will tell you it’s so heartbreaking to hide her feelings and to not to be able to be with him. She will tell you that she wakes up every morning knowing that she might not get to see him, which is really sad if you see because all she does anyway is watch him from far. She will tell you how she tries to look presentable just so that he doesn’t think any wrong of her. On days when she knows that he isn’t going to see her, she doesn’t even try. She sits in her school bus and looks out for his bus and checks if he has planned to skip or not. She walks into the school feeling conscious. She’ll tell you that everything around her becomes hazy as she watches him smile. She never had the guts to go and talk to him, though she wanted to. She has her eyes on the floor as she walks past him in a corridor. She never talks to him but she’s always looking out for him. She glances at him when he isn’t looking. She feels butterflies in her stomach when she stands beside him or watches him laugh. She’ll tell you that he mattered, even if she couldn’t show it to him. She’ll tell you how she could feel herself get dizzy when she sees him notice her, even for a second. She’ll tell you how she would give away everything to have him love her the way she loves him. She found herself walking towards the class she expects him to be in, even if she doesn’t have that class. She’ll tell you it’s a feeling she didn’t want to feel, yet didn’t want to give up on. She watched him from afar, feeling jealous of every person who got to spend time with him, as they all had something she couldn’t. She’ll tell you that she becomes super sad after seeing him but not being able to say anything to him. She’ll tell you how she wants to stay around him but that is something which can never happen. He was her ‘11:11’ wish everyday. She’ll tell you how she waits for his text and that he Doesn’t even care. She’ll tell you that he is the last thing on her mind as she falls asleep and he never even thinks of her throughout the day.
The destiny played its game. She was moving away. She was moving to another city. Her father got transferred. But they thought that they could work this out. That maybe they could meet on holidays. She could come over at his over the weekends. They could always FaceTime each other. So before leaving, she took two of his hoodies and gave him the perfume that she applied. He got her an anklet, she got him a locket. A thing to hold onto. A possession that told them who they belonged to. When she left, he craved her presence. After moving away, she missed his touch. When she missed him a lot, she would wear his hoodie, which smelt like him. When he missed her, he’d spray a little bit of her perfume around his room so that it smelt like her. They would call each other and talk for hours, telling each other how much they loved each other, how they missed each other, how their love is stronger than the distance which is departing them. And when they met, they’d kiss away the sad time they spent without each other.
So, she found it weird when he randomly started talking to her. It was weird as he never tried talking to her before. But, she let go of that feeling. She spoke to him just as she spoke to anyone else. He started spending most of his time with her. She found it strange at first but then she started getting used to it. She started trusting him and they spoke about things which she never spoke of, before. He always seemed distracted though. He would always talk to her and spend his time with her but when she was talking, he’d not pay attention to it. She still found herself telling him about her day and talking to him about her feelings. After some days, she found herself thinking of him when she was sitting alone. She had decided to tell her best friend about him and made them meet one day without telling either of them, what the reason behind the meet was. That day, when he met her best friend, he seemed to look at the girl with sparkles in his eyes. He listened to whatever she said, with full attention. He couldn’t get his eyes off her. The best friend also didn’t acknowledge her best friend much. That day, she had felt broken but she covered it up. After that day, he detached himself from her and started talking to her best friend. She was left broken.
In psychology, our teacher was telling us how we memorise things quicker if we have an emotion attached to it. She gave us the example of us remembering our most embarrassing moments or the most heartbreaking moments or really joyful moments. She said, we may not remember each and every detail of that moment but we will remember the important parts, how it made us feel. And maybe that’s why I remember each of our encounters. Maybe because of the butterflies I felt when I walked past you. Maybe because of the nervousness I felt when you sat beside me. Maybe because of the giddiness I felt when I spoke to you. And maybe I felt my cheeks heat up when I saw you glance at me.
And she jumped.
Soon enough, someone saw her body down there. A call was made. To the police and to the ambulance.
In a few minutes, the ambulance took the body away. The police on the other hand went up and checked for something. Anything that would tell why she jumped.
After a while, many media reporters were standing near the scene they’ve all come to record.
Cameras rolled and every one clawed for a better news. They spoke of it as though it was not a death but a social experiment.
“A sixteen year old jumped! What could her reason to choose this path be? Could it be love or family pressure? Stay tuned to find out”, a reporter said. It was funny how with just the slightest idea, they made up such stuff.
The police had done their research and found a letter under a stone, on the terrace that she jumped from.
” Dear mum and dad,
I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t go on any further. I can’t hope that life will get better. Not when I know that it’s not true. I can’t keep myself here any longer. I love you both a lot but I am not strong enough to fight this world.
I’m a failure and we all know it. You both never say it, but I know you deserve better. A better daughter. I’m nothing but a burden to you. My existence makes no sense. I feel tired of trying. Now, I just end my life. I’m sorry, I am not able to fit in.
In the past two years, I woke up each day and regretted every single breath I took that day. Every night, I used to force myself to keep the cries as low as possible because I didn’t want to wake you up. I used to cry because that’s what made me feel a little less heavy? But today? Today, I’m leaving. I’m sorry for being this selfish but I really feel you’ll notice how your life is better off without me.
Today, I woke up and decided that I had to end this. So here I am, writing this last letter to you, apologising for what I’m doing. I’m sorry that I’m leaving this way but I can’t do this any longer. I can’t go on. Please remember this one thing, I love you both. Very very much.
The letter was handed over to the broken parents and the news had already gone out. Every reporter repeated these words – “just another case of failure. Another teenager killed herself for she couldn’t fit in.”
Do you think I couldn’t see it? You think I couldn’t see behind the fake smiles and the fake love you tried to display? Do you think I couldn’t notice that you didn’t love me? Do you think I didn’t feel disappointed? Oh, I did m. But I loved you so I tried to ignore it. I tried to think that I was just assuming things. I tried to convince myself that you would eventually open up and that you actually did love me. I gave in whenever we had a fight and I always respected you so much. I always loved you and treated you so well. I tried to do everything to make you feel loved. I looked for ways to make you smile. I held you as you cried about your problems. I never let my ego spoil it for us. I always kept you above me. I loved you. And in return, you played me? Why? Why did your ‘I love you’s not hold any emotions? Why was it that each time you smiled at me, it looked like you did it only to satisfy me? Why is it that even if I gave the best of me, it wasn’t enough for you? I always trusted you and thought you were mine. Until. Until you told me about her. One day you randomly decided to break my heart and take away a piece of it. You told me how you finally found someone better while you were still with me. That day, it was confirmed, you did not love me. That all the fake hopes that you tried to build, those hopes, broke my heart. I loved you with all my heart and you just betrayed me. I gave you all of me and you just threw it all away? Why? What did you get out of all of this? If you would’ve told me that it meant nothing, I wouldn’t have gotten myself attached to you. And it hurt me because I actually valued a person so much, when they didn’t deserve it.
And it’s so suffocating. Even after hearing my emotions out, even after listening to them all, how can you completely ignore the fact that I’m hurting mom? When I word out my feelings, you seems to say, “even I know how to make up dialogues!”, in a very sarcastic tone. Why is it that my feelings don’t matter? People say, a person can understand that you aren’t happy if they see the slightest bit of pain in your eyes. But even when you see me crying, even when you see me sad, you don’t see that I’m in pain? Do you remember telling me that my tears won’t make a difference to you? Do you remember telling me that I’m your daughter so you will make all my decisions, I like it or not? Do you remember asking me to not to feel? So you might not understand. You say you have a lot of problems in life and often make me feel like I’m one of them. I know you are stressed about things but that doesn’t change the fact that I am too. Fine, I won’t share my feelings with you. Don’t block out my other way of sharing my feelings. Don’t snatch away my phone or books because I don’t do what you want me to do. And you ask, why not do what I ask you to do. They’re all such basic things, right? But do you see this mom? The exhaustion? The tiredness? The feeling I tried talking about? The feeling that makes me want to stay in bed all day but also makes me want to leave home? My friend suggested that I sit with you and have a heart to heart conversation with you when you’re in a good mood. Have I not tried that mom? Will you tell her that I tried talking to you about my problems and how you blamed them all at me and my incapabilities? Will you tell her that when you needed a shoulder to cry on, I tried to be there for you. Even when I knew that it wouldn’t matter, I told you that I was there for you and I would always be here, even when I knew I would someday end up overdosing? Do you remember yelling at me, telling me that all I said were fake dialogues, when you were mad at me? Do you remember telling me that I lied to you about helping you cope up and never came in handy? Do you remember me coming up to you and hugging you, just because I thought you were sad or tired? Multiple times right? Do you ever remember doing that to me? No? I remember you telling me that I deserved this. Wow mom, thanks a lot. Oh, I’m sorry I’m not there for you every time but I do try sometimes and each time I do, you end up saying I would be wanting something from you so I came to you? Mom, I’m not that selfish. You call me selfish mom but do you think I love myself? No, I don’t. You say is self care all that tough? Is keeping your room clean and keeping your wardrobe clean and looking after yourself so tough? I’ve never been able to explain this to you, but yes it is. I can’t bring myself to moisturise my skin or wash my face every two hours. It feels like it’s a little too much for me. You can hate me for that but you could also say that my depression does that. Like I told you, the feeling of not leaving bed, the exhaustion. Yes, I may seem happy, dancing around like the happy girl, but you know everything, don’t you? I heard you talk about it to my psychology teacher once. Haven’t you told me that you were the daughter your parents wished for? And how I am exactly the opposite? Do you see me trying? I have my own set of problems too. Do you remember telling me that I’m getting uglier lately and I was better as a kid? Thanks mom for making me a little more insecure everyday. You say that I should take care of myself if I don’t want to hear those things but I’m trying and you don’t see it. Do you remember saying no to me a multiple times and not letting me do what I want just because you didn’t want me to do it, because I didn’t listen to you? Do you remember hitting me when I said no to you? You ask, “are we not good parents?” and thats where you catch me off guard. I mean you are really wonderful. You give me good and shelter. You pay for my school and you buy me clothes. You give me cash when I want to hangout with my friends. You do let me go out sometimes. You make sure I’m safe. You see mom, I see these things and they do matter to me but it’s just not that. I’m sorry mum I’m writing this but I can’t hold it in for longer. You see mom, I love you very much, but it hurts.
Dad, you might be one of the most discouraging people in my life, when it comes to my writings. I know you didn’t hold intentions of hurting me but, oh god, did your words not make me cry? I never made you read them in the first place dad. But you chose to go check my writings and what do you do after that? Say that I write to gain sympathy and attention? Do you know dad, if it were to gain sympathy and attention, I didn’t get any of yours and I don’t really care because I write to express and I write so that I feel less suffocated. And people who cannot find words to express, find an aid. And I write to actually feel like I’m less of a disappointment. Dad, do you remember I had written a letter which was addressed to you? Which was for you but I never gave it to you? I’m sure you might’ve read it like the other writings of mine. You didn’t tell me how it made you feel. Dad, do you remember telling me that I’m the reason your health is deteriorating? Oh, I felt like a burden that day. I cried because I was the reason you were hurting. I am sorry dad that sometimes my words wound your heart but it’s not intentional. Even after knowing that your words feel like a knife stabbed in my heart, you keep stabbing me a million times. I know I’m a huge responsibility and how it feels like a huge task to take care of me. Dad I’m sorry I exist because I feel that your life would’ve been easier without me. Dad I see how your blood pressure is going high and I’m scared to come close to you because each time we talk, it ends with us two arguing and you coughing as you yell and your blood pressure goes high. Dad do you remember saying this, ” right now I’m paying her bills, so she is treating me so wrong. When she will be able to pay her own bills, I’m sure she will throw me out of the house”. One, how am I treating you wrong? All I did was say that we have a generation gap and our thoughts might not always match and say no to you at times. Two, how can you think of me that way dad. How can you think so low of me? Do you think that I love you for your money dad? Do you think I don’t have at least a little bit of respect and love for you? Is that what you think of me!? Dad, I love you very very much, but it hurts.
Have you ever practised faking a laughter, standing in front of a mirror? To see exactly how you should laugh to make it seem real? She has! And you may ask why? People don’t accept sadness. People think broken is too much. She just wants to fit in so she does the next best thing, she fakes it all. Laughing even when things aren’t all that funny. Smiling when she wants to cry. Posting pictures showing that she is happy. Staying quiet when she wants to scream. Scream. Scream out her feelings. Tell everyone that she is hurting. Hurting. Hurting because she feels like she is not accepted. And you may say, what’s the need to feel accepted. You don’t know how it feels, to be broken and left on display. How it feels when everyone can see all your flaws and see what’s inside of you and point out each flaw. You feel vulnerable. So let’s keep it this way. A broken vase is left on a table. Around it, are kept beautiful vases which screamed perfection. When people come to view these vases, the first thing they notice is the broken vase. They see how it doesn’t belong with the other of it’s kind, for it is broken. She feels the same way when her emotions and the real her are left on display. Vulnerable and uncomfortable. So she conceals it. Conceals it and tries to look as happy as she can be. Distracted and happy. It’s easier to fit in than to stand out.
And so what if she craved freedom? She clearly doesn't feel like she's allowed to do what she wants to do and feel what She feels. She is caged by rules her parents made. She feels like a slave. She can't eat what she wants to eat if her parents say no. She cannot leave her house if her parents say no. She cannot argue back, else she has to face consequences. She won't be sent out with her friends if she does not do what her parents tell her to. She feels like a slave, like a caged bird. It's suffocating, you see, to feel so powerless and weak. Like you have no control over things, whatsoever may they be. When she cries because of stress and anger, they ask her to stop crying. And just by that her muffled sobs are stopped. They ask her to stop feeling the way she does, because they think it's a little too much. When a girl is asked to not to feel, how do you expect her to deal? When she is angry, she isn't allowed to let it out. She can't yell and shout. She starts crying out of frustration because crying is all that she can do. The only way she can let her anger out. But not long before they ask her to shut up. She has to bottle up all her frustration. This is not how she wants to be treated. She wishes she were dead. So she writes. She lives the death she wants, in the words she writes. That's when she realised she has a talent. She showed it to the world but once again, they asked her to stop writing. They called her things which made her feel disgusted of her own self. They blamed her for their sadness, telling her how she made her feel like bad parents. They do what it takes to make her stop. To not to let her do what they don't want her to do. They take away possessions that keep her happy, telling her that she doesn't deserve those things unless she doesn't make them happy. Oh yes, she was a disappointment. She didn't always do what they wanted her to do, but only because she wanted to do what her heart wanted her to do. She got really angry when they got mad for small things like she not cleaning her room or forgetting to grab lunch. Sometimes it goes to the extremes. When she is crying and telling them how she feels, they turn their back towards her and tell her that her feelings don't matter. That's what it takes, to kill her from the inside. Her emotions don't matter. She doesn't matter. Someday she is going to end up killing herself and that wouldn't matter too.
And I want to hold your hand as we walk. I want to sneak out at midnight to lie on the rooftop with you as we watch the stars. I want to tell you how much I love you. I want to share secret eye contacts with you as we walk past each other. I want to dance on a slow song with you as I blush and stamp on your feet because I don't know how to dance. I want you to know that I've lost a piece of me, to you. I want to hug you and tell you how things would be better, as you stress about life. I want to be able to talk to you about all the things I love about you and call you cute things. I want to live my life with you. I want to love you forever.