I have been dangerously close to insanity the last few days.
Like every other month, I was deeply optimistic and excited about the new month of October. In fact, I probably took a bit too much on my plate for this month. I decided to put some life on this blog again (sorry for being absent for two months btw), learn to draw or paint for Inktober and FINALLY meet the work deadlines since I do need money for my other bigger plans.
Little did I know, this month too will kick me in the curb just like its other predecessors.
I forgot to count in the O-level exams looming over my brother who was under my guidance for his English lessons. I also forgot how traumatic it can get to be the ominous child who always gets blamed.
As an element of surprise, there was a recurring issue with electricity that automatically turned off most of the lights and ceiling fans throughout the house.
All these together were stressing me out enough already. Then I started getting headaches which were worsened by my temporary stay in the living room. I had to leave my bedroom because it was considered to be the origin of all those electricity issues. I mean, who else could it be right?
Then my father started shouting at me for not being able to differentiate between two spoons.
Yes, you read that right – SPOONS. He got so unusually mad and loud because I didn’t realize the spoon belonged to this curry and not that one. By the volume of that scream, it really sounded like he saw the devil coming right at him to end his life right away.
And that brought back all the memories of 20 years where he destroyed my confidence bit by bit.
My entire teenage, I did truly believe that I am unworthy of existence because, as my family members repeatedly reminded me – I am wayyyyyyyyyyy too dumb to exist or survive this worldly life.
The fact that I had no friend to share any of this with, made it a hundred times better. (sarcasm alert)
The world pointed fingers at me for being weird, my own family laughed at me for being myself, there were eve-teasers on the street describing how my body is basically a food item, while the babysitter woman at my house kept my little brother away from me.
I have no idea why my life is full of people who only push me to the ground over and over again. I don’t know how many times I will manage to stand up straight again anymore. Just a while ago I was furiously asking God why would He send me in a family like this where I don’t fit in either of the bloodlines. Like, there is not a SINGLE person I relate to on the maternal or paternal side.
Who will give me the answers? How long do I have to keep asking them? Where is the end of this story and why doesn’t it come any sooner? IT’S BEEN OVER 25 YEARS!!!
I am so fucking tired.