First day of survival.

17 August 2017.

Here I am, standing at the gate of Stephen University. It’s beautiful here, the only thing I don’t like here is.. well… Humans..!!

I looked myself in the mirror this morning.. and wondered, am I pretty?? My ex-friends and present enemies used to say I am… The person who made my life hell, well worst than hell said that.

I touched my cheeks, my lips looking directly into my eyes in the reflection as they filled with tears. The way he touched my cheeks… My body, still creeps me out, I still have nightmares about that night. And whenever I think about that I start hating myself, I want to clean my body by showering, trying to clear my wounds, created my his touch… But lately I realized that they are not on my body, they never were, they are inside my skin, on my soul that could only be destroy by death. I stood in front of mirror for about half an hour doing nothing, just standing and starting as tears started rolling down my cheeks. I was not even able to wipe them.

My thoughts stopped as I heard my little brother calling my name for breakfast. I didn’t comb my hair today. I wore the jeans that is 4 years old and totally out of fashion. Wore a shirt which is way too bigger for my size.

The only reason for my horrible dressing is too go unnoticed. I don’t want to get all dressed up and get attention. The sole aim of my life is to go to college, attend lectures, hide myselfโ€‹in a place where no one can know that I even exist and get a degree.

I want myself to hide in a hole where no one can ever find me… I want my existence to get buried. I want my name to be torn in pieces. Well my name is ‘HAYAT’ meaning life.. isn’t it ironic. I don’t know why they choose such a name for me. However, My mom suggested this name and maybe it would be a lot more easier to live if my life is she’sโ€‹ alive. It’s not like I don’t have a mother. I have step-mother or as called my brother’s mom. It’s not that she’s evil or something. She doesn’t behave bad with me. It’s โ€‹just that you know.. she’s not my mom. It’s like just having another person in your house who just doesn’t care you live or die or what you do. So, there’s absolutely no one I can talk to, papa is always busy with his business and my younger brother is well to young to understand my pain.

I walked through the main gate. Looking at people.. they were mostly in groups, talking to each other and who were alone were on their Mobile. I looked at my mobile, when was the last time, I made a call… No results. And the only calls I get are from Service providers, yelling about their internet plans and all. I can’t even talk to a pizza delivery boy, I talk to him through messages, telling him about the directions.

Snapping out from my thoughts, I look at the faces of the people, laughing, cracking jokes. I sometimes wonder… Are they seriously this much happy with their lives or are they just faking it, so as to fit in the society. How can they have everything in their life so sorted, do they have any worry or fear or is it just me… An abnormal, wierd, sociologically impaired, human body…?

*To be continued….

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8 thoughts on “First day of survival.

  1. Amazing!!!๐Ÿ˜
    Keep the passion up…๐Ÿ˜
    I’m waiting to read more of your writings….๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜Š

    Like

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