Letter to the one who taught me pain
To,
the one's who taught me pain
Address:- 1. Their mouths from where they feast on the misery they cause
2. The blind eye they turn to the discomfort of the hurt,
3. Their hearts devoid of any emotion, stuffed with alternatives they catch; all in the attempts to feel whole.
Subject:- the wall made of winter that i faced everyday after feeling years and years of warmth, you faked. I lay blankly on my bed and stare into walls, to find resemblance of any sort, something that you forgot, any leftover of you would have comforted me alot.
Dear *scoffs* ,
If there had been one name it'd never turn to a burden. Wouldn't it be easy to forgive and forget that way? maybe I'll hold grudges and suppress it away. It was never your intention was it? To let me feel the comfort, to let me know love without being afraid. You hooked me up on yourself by being there for me rarely. Your love remained selfish from day one to day thirty. There were signs pretty obvious but my gaze was fixated on your absent space. The sofa you sat on last time, the place you stood at, in my doorway. Leaving me, your back was such a natural sight, it hardly occurred to me that you never looked back at my petite face. Was i truly so dumb or perhaps desparate to realise that love never feels this way?
They say when you are born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. What about when they leave you to drown then bring you to the warmth of the fireplace but their gaze is frosty and hands are cold. What do you make out these actions, when their words are dripping with honey.
I resonated with Gregor Samsa of metamorphosis long before i read it. His first worry as an insect was being late for work while i wake up everyday in need of break afraid to fail my exams and being labelled a disgrace. The way everytime i think of dying, i get anxious that my academic semester will go to waste, my first fear is being saved. Because the one's who taught me pain never told me how to deal with it so everytime the disassociation fades i turn into a nasty bug struggling to get out of the bed, on a very random Tuesday.
Now i find loopholes, ways to deal with the pain. I scratch and scratch and scratch a mosquito bite until my skin peels. I bite my nails out of anxiety until they bleed. I dig my nails into my palm to make my fidgeting leg stop. I rub my eyes until i see stars and pick on my acne turning them to open scars. I neither treat my wounds nor stop the bleeding cuts. Now i nibble on my own flesh, a cannibalism of sort.
To the one's who taught me pain - i think your teachings are successful. I am in pain so terribly often yet have no way to cure it away. Joy only lasts a fraction of second with me before its replaced. It seems to be the price i pay, my lips feel heavy when i rarely smile, the burden of grief weighs me down. Instead of peacefully dying at once, until the pain undoes my shackles, i die bit by bit everyday.
From,
How would any of you remember me when i was constantly ignored?