Six Feet Under

5.

The outside whether is kind of gloomy today. It looks like it is about to rain but maybe it's just the darkness that lies within me that is making me see these things. I sit at the table and stare outside the window looking at the world living their lives. I look at a few people walking towards different directions and I wonder how their life must be like. How many loved ones have they lost? How many of them still live with their parents? How many of them are in a relationship? How many of them are actually happy and content? But these are questions that I will never find answers to.

So, I get up and pick up a book from my bookshelf and start reading it. But then I start to wonder again how did the author came up with this story, the plotline, the characters. Has the author also experienced the same grief as the characters in the book? Has the author also lost people who meant the world to her? Did she also love people who never even liked her? I tried to concentrate on the words trying to find a secret message that the author might have been trying to convey to its readers. But I could not find anything. So, I continued reading. After a while when I got tired, I put it away.

It is one of those days where you don't really feel anything. You just continue through the day and see where it goes. I haven't written in my journal for quiet some time. I started journaling when my mental health started to deteriorate. It helped a bit since I was able to express my grief somewhere but then again, I wanted some sort of affection and a sense of understanding which I will never get from my journal. I got it from Brianna but I also wanted it from my parents.

Sometimes, we seek approval of only one person and even if thousand other people will say things to you that you want to hear it wouldn't matter unless that specific person say those things that you want to hear. I want my parents to say that they love and care about me. But I know they never will. But sometimes I also think that what would it be like if one day they do tell me that they love me. Will I forgive them for what they did or said all these years? Will I be able to move past it? I guess only time will tell. But I hope they don't say those words when it's too late, when I'll be too far gone with no sign of coming back.

I open my journal and saw that the last time when I wrote in the journal was almost two months ago. I flipped the pages and saw that I have actually written quite a lot. This seems no less interesting than a novel itself. So, I started reading it.

The first one is from the time when I was 14. Lets see what I have written.

28 July, 2019

I want my parents to stop fighting so much. They never realize that they are hurting me. All they care about is what they want and what they need. Sometimes I wish I was never born. Why did they bring me on this planet if they never wanted to love me in the first place. They fought last night too because my father came home drunk. I heard my mom yelling at him and he yelled back. He sounded so angry so I stayed in my room, I was scared that if I went downstairs, they will yell at me too. This is becoming a daily routine. I told Brianna about this and she said that it will get better and I can always come over to her house if things get worse. I appreciate her so much.

But I need my parents to stop fighting. I still remember when I was younger, I used to hide in the closet. Once they were fighting so I hid in the closet and covered my ears. I even tried to hold my breath for some reason. I thought if they will hear the slightest of sound made by me, they will throw me out of the house.

I came out of the closet two hours later and they didn't even notice that I was not in my room. When I came out of my room everything was back to normal. For them. For me it will never be normal.

Wow! My fourteen-year-old version doesn't know that things have actually gotten worse but points for the optimism. I flipped the pages and see what else I have written.