There is always a reason for exclusion
There is always a reason. There was always a reason why I’m missing from the picture. Why I am not part of it. “I thought someone else had invited you.” “I didn’t think you wanted to come.” “I was protecting you from XYZ person” “Don’t be silly, you never need an invite” There was always
They only saw the anger….
Most nights I wake up gasping. I am wheezing hard for air that is no longer left in my lungs. My eyes are wide open. But then I see the faint strip of night light coming through the curtains from my bed. Realising where I am, I slow down my breathing. I could still wake
Complete erasure
To everyone I used to know – but don’t know anymore. I never said goodbye to you, because I didn’t think I needed to. The thought of you crosses my mind. I pace around the room and picture plans of what we’re going to do together. Collect things I want to tell you in my
The bag of leftovers
Growing up, I had a mother who made me feel like I was never good enough, and a father who wished I never existed.So from an early age, I would fantasize about leaving home, getting a job, and getting my own apartment – where I could no longer be unwanted. But that never happened. Instead,
Can I be wanted?
Once again; I found myself here. Where I was forced to ask the painstaking question: Can I be wanted? My Nana lives with my distant relatives – they’re her caretaker. The only way to see her is at their home. She recently bought a one-way flight ticket to Bangladesh, so I didn’t know whether this
If I invite myself, was I ever really wanted?
The other week I went to a kid’s birthday party, which is something my loved ones questioned, knowing how sensitive I can be around my relatives. I decided to ignore them and go anyway. I told myself I’d be fine with it all. So I brace, paint on a smile and go. At the party,
Birthdays
Growing up, birthdays were the one day in my life that I believed I would recieve care, love and attention. Because that wasn’t what I was getting every other day in my life. I wanted to feel like I mattered to someone, because as a child I very quickly learned that I did not matter
Not like old times, eh?
I’m in the living room nervously waiting for a call from a old friend. A catch-up call. We hadn’t spoken in over a year. So we found time in our diaries to talk. This is the kind of friend I’d catch up with once every few years. She’s a good person, she has recently has