“Literature, like memory, selects only the vivid patches” – T.E. Hulme
I know I haven’t written in long, but there’s not much to tell you. Most people have vivid memories of the best thing that ever happened to them. As for me.. well, you know me. I don’t have anyone but you to come back to. That’s probably because the most vivid memories of my life are the worst things in it. Trust me, I wouldn’t wish my problems upon anyone – even the people I loathe. I can only smile when our friends and neighbours appreciate the beautiful house we live in. If only they knew what happened beyond the walls.. I know that we’re better off compared to a lot of others, but we’re not happy. I was arranging my bookshelf yesterday when I heard the screams coming from the next room.
I ignored it for a while. This wasn’t new. But after a while, the screams got louder and it was like the air turned blue with the language used. I cautiously unlocked my door. Please let it be over, I prayed. It wasn’t over. Things were thrown, death threats were made and it got more violent. I stood shaking in the corner, hoping it would end soon. It didn’t. I didn’t know which was worse – the fight or me turning a blind eye to the truth for all these years. I tried to hide. I didn’t want them to see me, but I wanted to watch and listen. So I did. I listened very carefully and watched everything without missing a beat – I wanted to commit the words and actions to memory. Now, I knew to never leave them on their own, even for a minute. I wanted to stop them and tell them it was hurting my head, that I was going to faint. But I was paralyzed to my spot. A wave of nausea swept through me. I was afraid of bursting into tears.
We weren’t very social people, so I couldn’t go to anybody for help. And I knew they would be embarrassed once the storm blew over. And they would all feel sorry for me and if it’s anything that I can’t stand, it’s the judgmental looks. We weren’t normal, yes. But that didn’t mean they could treat us like that. I have always been extremely sensitive about them. So if I did hear anybody gossiping, I’d hit back hard. I think they could read that from my behavior, because they were all smiles around me. I was annoyed but didn’t let it show. I had been playing the game all my life. However, the house could barely conceal the tremors within it yesterday. I was shivering all the time and kept moving around like a ghost.
Some times, the depression gets better of me. I had been contemplating on ending it all yesterday but here I am, writing. I want people to find this if I’m gone. I want people to remember me vivid as I was, not the empty shell I’d become. There was no food in the house. I was delirious and capable of anything.. even dangerous things. There. I said it. I don’t want you to be afraid of me though. You’re my best friend. You are patient and you really listen to what I have to say. And I promise you, one more time and I’m out of here. My sanity is leaving me, I can feel it. I need to hold on to it. I can’t even go to sleep now because my pillows are soaked with tears. Also, I think it’s not fair how the breaking of a glass tumbler makes so much noise but the breaking of my heart is as quiet as a grave.
The Damaged One~