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.
Burden. Unwanted. Disturbance. This is what she felt. She felt like she was a huge responsibility which no one should be having. Every morning, she woke up, wishing that she didn't. She held a strong face when she felt really weak. Every now and then, she thought that things would be better if she wasn't alive. She saw how she was nothing but a burden to her parents. She saw how it wouldn't matter if she was gone. She noticed how things would still go on, even a bit better, without her. She felt like a disturbance to her family. She saw how her parents already had so many problems to deal with and she was just adding up on it. Always another problem they had to worry about. Many times, her mother told her how she feels sorry for carrying her around for nine months as a baby because all she does is make her disappointed. She felt like she fucked up so many times and each time she brought her father's reputation down. She doesn't want to be this way. She wants her parents to be proud of her too. She felt so unwanted. She felt like her sadness made everyone else around her feel so down! She tried her best to be happy just to let everyone else be happy around her. She often felt like if she wasn't here, things would've been less twisted. There would be less tears, less pain. No one would have to deal with a mess like her.
And then you left me hurting,
Every time I see your face, my heart hurts. Right now,
as I write this,
my eyes fill up as a feel something snap inside my heart.
I know this seems stupid but at least you knew.
All this while, you knew.
It hurts because even after knowing it, you acted like you didn't, or maybe it never mattered.
All this while, you were the only thing on my mind.
For you, I never mattered.
Right now hot tears of anger flow out my eyes and I hate myself for all of this.
Why do I cry when you weren't even mine?
Around 3:30 pm that day, it started raining. First it was slow, then she could hear the droplets hitting the earth at a very high speed. The sound was soothing though. She was sitting on the floor, listening to slow music, before it started raining. She got up and walked towards the window. She leaned on the wall, rest her forehead on the cold glass and looked out of the window. She got lost in her thoughts. She thought of how tired she was of this life that she has. She thought of how ungrateful she was but she never asked for it in the first place. She watched as the raindrops became slower and her emotions got heavier. She was lost. Lost in her own mind. She was pulled back to reality when hot tears ran down her cheek and her heart felt heavy. She wiped the tears off her cheek and sat down to write.
Ten years back, when it rained, I used to run out of my apartment and dance around as the raindrops blurred my vision. I used to jump into puddles and get drenched. Now, when it rains, I pull my chair beside the window and read a novel as the petrichor fills the atmosphere. Ten years back, I used to play cricket and football with my cousins, break a bone while trying to prove them that I am strong, or fall and scrape my knees as I ran a little too fast. Now, I meet my cousins and we sit down and laugh at the old memories. No more scraped knees or broken bones. Ten years back, my mum would teach letters and poems to me and now, I teach her technology. Ten years back, growing up sounded fun, but now it looks like a huge responsibility. Ten years back, i would read fairytales and let my imagination take me to places which could never be forgotten and now I read thick novels, keeping myself in the character’s shoes and loving each moment of the book. Ten years back, inhibition was not even introduced to me. I was one of the most confident children around. But now, it seems like a lot of things changed. Now, with each step I take, a part of me thinks about what everyone else might think about it. Ten years back, things were easier and now they’re not.
She was alone that day. She lived on the sixteenth floor. Just a floor below the terrace, which did not have any elevated edges. It was dark outside even if the day had just begun. ‘It is going to rain soon’, she thought. She was wearing a baby pink colored cropped hoodie and gray colored sweats. Even when she wore such pretty colors, she felt plain. She felt so lifeless. She wanted to end it all. As she let her emotions take over her, tears rolled down her cheeks. She picked her cup of coffee and walked up to the terrace. She sat down on the floor with her back being supported by the wall behind her. She drank the coffee in silence and after finishing it, she got up and took a step forward like a ballet girl does. Ballet. Something that she had learned over the years. The only thing that made her look elegant. Something she was so proud of. She started dancing slowly. She turned and spun so perfectly. She danced in silence as the cold breeze blew her her out of her face, making her look beautiful. It started raining. It started slow but picked up speed real fast. She kept dancing as the tears rolled down her cheeks with the droplets of rain. The clouds cried too, to make her feel like she wasn’t the only one dancing. She spun towards the edge. Then she took a step, then a spin, then a step, then a spin. She danced on the edge, not fearing the fall. As she reached the corner of the building with a spin, she lifted her left feet, hung her arms loose in the air and let herself fall forward. That’s how she ended the mess which she called her life.