It is hard for me to walk through my life, now that I am free to do what I want. I’m happy, yes. I am extremely happy to be free but deep inside of me, I’m still caged. Caged from the pain I was force to go through and from the wounds that never heal inside of me. Pain from the blows of others and pain because of the blows I gave others.
I am a very simple girl that wishes everyone to be happy. Maybe inside of me I think that making others happy gives me a reason to be happy as well. It is true. I do feel a little happy for that but people don’t remember me for the times I make them smile, they remember me for the times I must have hurt them unintentionally or the times I made mistakes in my life.
Sometimes people expect me to be more than what I can and it pressurizes me.
My cousins and my aunts, people that I had once been close with, these people truly never cared about my happiness. Because the moment I make one mistake, they torment me. First they would scream hurtful things at me, then second they would make sure my parents know about it. The worst part is when my parents actually do listen to them and put me in a position to feel sorry for myself, even if it wasn’t my fault.
Everything I do when I was young, always get me wrong. I wanted to help someone but in the end I will end up being blamed for hurting or causing trouble. It has always been that way for me. Till I started thinking that it is 100% sure that every year I will definitely have a huge problem stick to me. Like for instance I’ve been imprisoned in my parents' house because they think I was wrong. Something like this always happens [when I live with my parents], at least once a year.
So it makes me think I’m doing something wrong, and yet I know I didn’t really do anything wrong except trying to be me. I can never be me; that’s what everything seems to conclude to.
My parents don’t bother about all the things I am going through. My mother, I always wished to hug her and cry on her shoulders and tell her my problems, but unfortunately I couldn’t. For one, she will definitely take me to be making some sort of mistake, and another she will actually scold me or punish me, which in result makes me wish I didn’t tell her anything at all.
I don’t know if I have ever talked to her about stuff before. I might have. But I don’t remember what happened. And in any case, I always refrain from talking to my parents regarding any personal problems I’m going through.
It’s hard to explain my childhood pain I went through. Most of them I forgot really but yet I feel the pain of it. The pain that it had caused me throughout my life. I don’t know why I feel the pain eventhough I don’t remember things. Maybe I have come to accept the fact that perhaps it’s better to let the images go so that it might be less painful? I don’t know. But it didn’t become any less painful… It hurts a lot.
I have been so lonely all my life. Staying alone all the time, it's very seldom that I get to go out with cousins or friends. And I’m always glad when my cousins stayed over, because it made me feel like there is someone, even for a while.
After they were gone, I felt thrown back to normal life. Alone again. The world feeling like a doomed place to live in. Anyway, I guess these loneliness made me feel more depressed than ever.
My parents always didn’t like me being by myself alone in the room. They always yelled when I locked the room door with me in it. They said that while I’m alone, Jinns can disturb me and turn my brain to think of something else.
Half of it can be right. Yea, being alone can turn my brain into some other thoughts, but definitely no Jinns are doing those. It’s psychological. And the thing is, I love being alone. I didn’t know why. I thought perhaps it was normal.
The truth is, I was already starting to further myself between my parents and me. I know they don’t understand me and never will. It wasn’t unintentional what I did, it was more intentional. I feel better by myself than with them. They always take things and turn it out around to me.
Things like, maybe we are watching a movie together, and you know how dramatic some movies can get. Especially when it is about a teenager’s life. What I will be seeing is the pain the teenagers are going through and how they suffer because of their parents and environment. But what my parents will be seeing is, that I’m behaving just like those children and they will start nagging saying 'oh, children shouldn’t be like that or like this, or because they don’t listen they will suffer…blah blah…
I hated being there with them when they talk about shit like that. Moreover, there’s nothing to do in the damn living room sitting with them and listening to their shit. I prefer sitting in front of the computer playing games. At least it keeps my mind off stuff.
Perhaps it's just like every parents' view. Perhaps it's not. Maybe I will understand when I am a parent, but I know I wouldn’t nag or see it the other way round. I mean the movie is clearly pointing it out towards the teenager’s sorrowful life, but somehow, someway, my parents will only see the negative part.
Seriously, ever since I reached my teen life, they always keep thinking what wrong I would do in my life. The way they point out the teenagers in TV proves enough for me to know that they are thinking I might do those stuff.
Even after I grow up, they still point out those things to me. And I am already an adult by then. I guess I should have gotten it then. But I didn’t think of it that way. I was only pissed off but I didn’t realize enough to know they are still thinking I’m that shitty teenager girl.
Maybe it’s their innocence, maybe it’s not. I really don’t have a clue. But nevertheless I came to the terms knowing that my depression grew because of my parents. Because of them not wanting me to mix around too much, because of them not wanting me to talk to people, share with people my thoughts. That’s what brought me here.
When I was young, I did’t know how to talk about my problems. I didn't know how to start talking either. I didn’t know how to explain the pain. And for a while I suffered in silence.
When I grow up, I don’t know how but I started speaking of it. I guess the internet world made me do so. I started opening up and that’s when I also became dependent on people as well. Every time I talk to someone, I hope for them to hold me and tell me it’s ok and that things will be alright. I guess I break down already then. It only took me so long to realize.
And even when I realize this, I couldn’t stop myself from doing things or feeling things another way. I still feel the same, still like doing the same things, even though I know it’s wrong.
Like hurting myself. I want to hurt myself, so that the pain in me will go away. I cut my wrist every time because it feel so good to feel that pain that is other than the pain in my heart. As much as it hurts, I have reopened the same wound on my wrist lots of times and I like doing it.
Anyway, the feeling of the blood flowing down my wrist also feels so nice, like as if the blood is my sorrow I’m letting out.
Every pain I put upon myself does not hurt me, but actually helps me. That’s what I feel. Maybe I’m feeling mad and pain a whole lot because I couldn’t hurt myself, couldn’t cry my eyes out, couldn’t scream and just scream to the world.
I wish to just put myself out of agony and throw away all the pain in my heart. I do.
Sometimes, I just don’t wish to live anymore. I just wish to jump down a high building and just end the whole pain I’m going through.
PS: I no longer cut my wrist or inflict pain or hurt on my body. I had stopped doing that since I met my life partner. The accounts are from my past.
Written on February 2, 2010