If you don't love what you do, you won't do it with much conviction or passion.
- Mia Hamm
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Human brain is the most complex maze and advanced neurotic network.
It is also the only organ in the body that leads us somewhere or more like, our thoughts somewhere, like,
What? How? Why?
I think about it too. I think everyone does. Mine are a little confusing to me but thinking about it make me wonder for an answer, always leaving me unsatisfied but nonetheless I still think about it.
What made it happen?
How could it happen?
Why did it happen?
Would it still would have happen if I had told someone?
What if ...?
| s i c k e n i n g t h o u g h t s .
IS IT SICK to say that it felt good when it was happening to me?
That I felt good it was happening to me.
It felt good about having them do it.
I want to defend myself saying that I was after all 6 when it first happened.
Kids like attention.
And later I did feel dirty and bad,
But it just feels like I'm seeking for attention that I got when it happened.
I knew it was bad but I let it happen.
And I liked it
I think that is why I let him touch me.
Because I'm a sick person, who likes it when she's touched.
Because I'm dirty and I still want to be dirty.
But I regret letting them touch me.
But I need them to touch me. To make me forget.
But maybe not them.
Maybe just someone.
Just someone safe.
To make it all go away.
❝ Kiss me on the mouth
And set me free. ❞
But please don't bite.
THE ONLY THING in my mind was that another year has passed yet I was nowhere normal still the same old weird freak.
Well at least that's what I think of myself. From others point of view I was pretty sure I was a normal teenage girl with normal teenager problem.
I had them too. Mine were my thoughts and where it would all lead to. I always knew where, it was always the same one. Each time that happened I'd lose my control leading to a full blown panic attack and later leave all the other people to face the effects of its wrath. Which is why I always control my thoughts which path are they choosing. Even a thinking about something god such as puppies can also lead them to those nightmare –ish thoughts, causing people to believe that I'm rude and I have a problem of ignoring people.
Heaving a sign I made my way to the, zoo, sorry college. Glad to say that it unconcerns me to refer these vile, obnoxious and fifty shade of disgusting creature as my classmates or college mates. I'm not an anti-social person but I have my moments where I want nothing more than to slam someone's head hard on wall or locker. Preferably both in a reverse sequence. Twice.
"BIOTCH!" And that would be one of the example of how obnoxiously loud people can be. "What ya doing?", Mae tried to say in her oh so called girly voice.
That was the thing about Mae.
Mae Shetiya had been my friend for three years now. Longest relationship I've ever had in my entire life. Mae was everything good in my life, her boyfriend did ruin some of her innocence but she was still as bad as a wee lamb. Not so much. She had un -officially proclaimed herself to be my best friend.
I would most definitely agree.
"I'm trying to remove my books for the lecture while maintain my balance with you are hanging on my neck." I said without choking. She was a small –or petite as she would like to be called or introduced as —was hanging on to me or my neck specifically.
"Mae get off her, you'll choke her or something ."
And that would be Imran, Imran Lahae.
Imran, Mae's boyfriend said so himself that he was the 'fun' guy. Not the reckless fun but the responsible one. Everyone would gladly agree. Perfect for Mae. She was innocent and he was protective and possessive. It made me nauseous to say that they were cute.
Nauseating but cute.
Never in my life would I ever agree to that statement in my, unexciting yet satisfying, life. That would just mean them becoming that 'nagging and bitching girlfriend who you just couldn't get rid of', and I don't ever want that to happen.
I just wanted one thing; and that was to forgot.
To forget anything ever happened.
So that's what I did. Spent the day at college then rushed home, only to realize that I don't have to avoid my mum as she wasn't even there. God bless. This was going far more smoothly than I thought.
I made my way towards my bed, pounced on it like it was my prey. I turned over to be on my back and closed my eyes. Falling in to deep sleep. Knowing nightmares were just around the corners.
| b l i n d i n g t h o u g h t s
WOULD SHE HAVE notice it?
But why didn't she? They whispered.
That was the constant thought in my head.
Would she? Would she help or would she ignore saying I was vying for attention?
What would've she done?
Why didn't I come forward?, maybe then would she done something. What if I had come forward what would have happen? What if..
'Why', 'what' and 'if' where the only thing consuming all the other easy and comfortable thoughts, blasting all the demons from the past, drenching me in fear.
Nothing was clear anymore, which was why I didn't like thinking about those things because they were like Pandora's Box once open it was hard to close it without releasing demons out in open.
The constant urge to clean myself, the urge to scratch the wound open so that the itch would disappear; that vile, disgusting feeling, the urge to throw up so that all these emotions would leave me were constant.
It was clawing me inside out , claiming me inside out.
Didn't she see it? Didn't they see it?
Did anyone notice the change in me?
Did anyone notice that I grew quite?
I faked smile?
Forced a laughter?
Hated of touching?
Why didn't she do anything?
Because you're worthless.
No. No. I was not.
But was I ?
I think I was.
Hmmm. It's dark here.
I love it.
❝ There I was again tonight,
Forcing laughter faking smile. ❞
Same old tired, my lonely space.
AFTER IT HAD happened to me. I felt scared. Scared of anything and everything. My mum did notice me acting weird, but she was rather busy with the guest to bother. Figures. It was always the same.
After a while I became angry. At myself my mum. At them. Because I was lost. And I didn't wanted to be anymore.
But there always was a constant amongst my thoughts.
"Why didn't she do anything?"
After one of them did it, I had told my mum. She called him aside, me right beside her. And then she asked him. I thought that he would apologize but he didn't infact he claimed I had a creative imagination. Mum disagreed and told him to stay away from him, he agreed and that was it.
He stayed with us for two more day.
I stayed at my friends home for time being. Waiting for him to leave. Because my home was not safe anymore.
Why didn't she do anything?
I always wandered.
So many reasons and only one actual exact conclusion.
Maybe she was scared. Maybe she was confused. Maybe she didn't believe. Maybe.
The last one I didn't wanted to believe, so I consoled myself with the first one.
Maybe she was scared.
| c o n t r o l l e d t h o u g h t s .
I FELT LIKE I was the girl from frozen who had to control her emotions, to control herself from going on a winter spree.
We were the same, only difference I had to control my thoughts. Once they get out of control so do my emotions.
So does my body.
I don't want it too.
So I don't.
But I'm running out of interesting things to think about.
But I do. Because as the girl in frozen said,
❝ Conceal don't feel,
Don't let them show.❞
And they'll never know.
ONE QUESTION THAT always remains in my mind is, how do I numb the pain?
How can you do that?
One answer I got was Self- harm, you know cutting myself. I did tried it once, but not on my wrist, no that would be too visible. So I cut my thighs. It was fun, not in a sadistic kind, no, in a emotional pain numbing way.
It became my routine. I would come home from school, see to it that no one was home. And then go to bathroom, under shower, and cut myself.
This went on for quite some time. Maybe years, before I stopped. My granddad had passed and my father had faced some financial crisis. We were broke. So I stopped cutting. Stopped with the suicidal thought, stopped with it all. My father needed my help. And help I did.
Worked for him. Helped him in his business. Now I went to college, and then off to work.
But there were some days that it wasn't required for me to go help him at work. So I would come home and go to sleep to avoid all my problems only to wake up in fright of the nightmares usually, with disgusting feel of hands all over me, reliving the same shit, and having a night time bath or be jerked awake only to realize it was sleep paralysis. The first time that had happened I had started to panic, I called for my mum but I couldn't open my mouth, couldn't move my hands or leg or anything. Just my eyes. It was fucking terrifying. As soon as I came to it. I started crying, that woke my mum up. I was clinging on to her. That was one of the rare case of my mum showing me affection so openly.
Second time this had happened I knew it would soon go away so I laid there peacefully. Ignorance is a bliss or so they said.
And after that I had sleep paralysis in every two or three days or it was nightmare time for me.
Sleep for me was a pretty good substitute for cutting. It helped with blocking the emoti
on and all.
| r u i n i n g t h o u g h t s .
ALL THE VICTIMS of abuse I one constant thought running through their mind all times of the day.
Would anyone care if I died?
I had the same thought too. I mean if they couldn't even see it happening to me, would they really even notice I wasn't there. Would it really mattered I died?
Maybe not. Life would go on without me. People would move on.
Mum, Dad, my brother, my friends, they would all move on.
I used to think that. Pretty selfish of me to think that. To burden my parent with the pain of my death. To burden my brother with a loss of his sister. To burden my friends with the guilt of not saving their friend. To burden everyone for my selfish burden.
Or was it really selfish? Maybe or maybe not.
I just learned that it was valid for me having those feelings. To feeling shitty and depressed. Because that was the one emotion that I couldn’t suppress.
Because as it goes;
❝ I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain. ❞
The only thing that's real.
THE FIRST TIME someone told me I was depressed was right after I had a full blown panic attack in middle of the college. I was too much of a crying mess to laugh at their face with a “ya think” ready on my lips but I couldn't cause I was a as I said a crying mess. I knew I was a bit depressed, I mean, common on for a girl who was as much of an emotionally damaged as me.
But I was just going to ignore it all. Cause that was much easier. And it was a solution to all. My solution to everything.
I had anxiety. Had all the symptoms. But was not sure, so it didn't matter.
What did someone with Anxiety, ADHD, Panic Disorder, with a highly sensitive sensory overload do?
Mull over the fact that they had it.
I was a very social person by nature everyone thought so. I would make friends faster than anyone could say the word “friends”. But it had all changed when that had happened. I closed of. I can actually literally count all my friends in one hand. There were only two. Others were only classmates or acquainted through college. It didn't really help that I was Bi. Bisexual. It was hard coping up with all these in a small period of time.
I realized that I was Bi, when I was 14, and came to know that girls could date girls. I was ecstatic. But I still wanted to date guys. So the solution to my problem was that I was bi. As simple as that.
Now part about this that worried me, was me telling my parents that.
But I kept that for later. First I began planning.
First on my agenda: Make enough money to buy home for my parents.
Second: To pay all their debts.
Third: Pay for my brothers dreams.
Fourth: Buy my own house.
Fifth: Come out to my parent.
So this way, if they do decide to disown me; I will already have a place to go.
All through this though I never thought about my own dreams and life plans. Just my parent's and my brother’s.
But there would be time for there.
I would make time for that.
One thing I had learnt in life was to not cry and hurt over things that had happened but just keep moving forward with life.
People had told me to forget, the Girl I had told it about to the media who tell this to all of us.
Forgive and Forget.
But I would never forgive and never forget. Because that is what helps me push myself ahead.
Just maybe forgetting part I would have once liked, but I soon realized that forgetting what happened won't help me.
Fighting against it won't help me.
Knowing that I survived that. That I could help other survive it. Fight for myself and others, that would help me.
I don't know if I could ever the my parents what had happened. But I've always hoped that when I do I'm strong enough to know that they could rely on me for assurance and I would be okay.
Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe someday. I know I would be okay.