Just Write

Express

We all have wanted something in our childhood. We all have really nagged and annoyed our parents for dolls, foods, books etc. And most of the time, we got what we wanted.

My childhood, on the other hand, was not so smooth. Yes, I had food on my plate, had a big house to live in an had clothes to wear. And I always considered myself lucky for having all this things. But despite everything, I missed something.

I missed my mother. On every step of my life, I missed her. I knew she had to leave the house because it was becoming difficult for her to keep up with the torture. I never obstructed her from leaving. I was happy that she left, despite the fact that now the beatings, the mental torture unfolded upon me. Still it was good. As long as my mother didn't have to suffer, everything was good.

My mother told me to stay strong. Though I didn't need her to tell me that. From my situation, I knew that if I wanted to live, wanted to bring good marks in exam, I had to stay strong and focus. Focus on my career. Focus on struggling, focus on surviving. Focus on the shitty people I call family. Focus on how to maintain a smile on my face when they badmothed my mother, talked trash about her character. Focus on how to deliver to my mother whatever plans were being made against her, so she could take precautions. Focus on how to keep myself straight and safe so that nobody would have to think twice about my well-being. Focus on how to become a boy by hiding my female body, female way of doing things-- my faminety, so that no guy would find me interesting enough to get too close to me. I was absolutely on my own and I had to protect myself in a world full of hungry dogs.

Focus, focus, focus! I had to focus on everything around me so much that I totally forgot to focus on what was going on inside me.

Every time I thought about thinking what I was feeling, I stopped myself. I kept telling myself that this was not the time. I had no time to waste, no time to wallow in self pity. I had jobs to do, think about others-- be that my family or my friends who were practically my lifeline. I had no time to discover the things that were going on inside my heart and mind.

Now I wish I could have just taken a moment out to at least cry for a little bit.

There is a limit to everything. People can only hide things so much before they burst. Volcanoes must be erupted. I erupted too. But not by screaming or crying. By punching on walls till my knuckles bled.

It has always been easier for me to control my emotions by performing self harm, rather than talking. I have always been emotionally constipated. When it came to make others feel good by talking, I am the most extroverted person one would even see. But when it came to myself, not a single word came out of my mouth. I don't know how to express myself. I feel afraid that I'll talk too much which will scare people away. So I chose not to talk.

That is where he decided to come in. He kissed my bloody knuckles more than once, treated my wounds, hugged me close to himself.

He makes me feel like woman.

Jaaniya, that's what he calls me.

You're the Proxima Midnight to my Venom, that's what he says.

You're the strongest woman I have ever seen, he sang.

"Your fragrance is addictive." He keeps saying.

And what do I do in return? Keep pushing him away. I try so hard to push him away that the time before last time, he called up my mother and requested her to tell me that I fucking needed to stop telling him over and over again that I wanted to leave him.

"It hurts, Bed." He said.

All he ever did, still does is try to make me happy, try to share my every pain, try to fill my life with happiness. And all I do is to push him away, block him away. I rarely text him back, avoid his calls until my mother gets angry, talk to him curtly and keep telling him to disconnect the call multiple times during a phone call.

But he still fucking does not understand!

"You want me to be happy? Then be mine forever. Be my wife. I can't live without you. Please! I need you, Jaaniya, please don't leave me." He keeps saying.

And when it becomes too much, he practically forces me to stay in his life. And I'm really happy that he does that, or else I would have left a long time ago and I would no longer have a reason to live.

All my stories would have remained unfinished. Because without the author, there will be no story.

All I want is to open myself up to him. Share my pains, my happiness,my emotions-- my everything. I want to tell him that without him, there would be no me. I want to tell him that I want him and only him. I want to express all my fears to him, want to hold him tightly, want to depend on him.

But I don't know how to do this.

Because of my past experiences, attachments scare the shit outta me. I stay away from attachments. But this attachment, this relation-- which I need the most, I'm pushing it away.

Sometimes, all I feel is helplessness.

I wish I could just express myself.
______________________________________

If you are reading this, then thank you.