How Much Can You Hurt Me?

Hurt

Weird, a word oxford dictionary describes as "suggesting something supernatural". This always makes me ponder. For the longest time I remember, people have called me weird. Even, I don't know why. When I ask my mom, she says that's because I am different from them but they say that I am mentally retarded.

Since the very first day of my new school, I found myself as the worst treated victim of bullies. My world went topsy-turvy a year back, when my parents decided to move from small town to city in order to fetch me better high school edification. I had a hard time adjusting or should I say hard time convincing myself that I have adjusted. I left my friends back there in Stratford with my true self and whats left was the complete opposite of the crazy, lively and carefree me, I used to be.

I don't recall the last time I had a decent conversation with anybody because bullying is something that doesn't count in definition of decency. I became the quite-goody-two-shoes, strained of all the energy to rebel and everybody knew this. They knew that all I could do was sulking.

I faced too much rejection from them. Not that I wanted them to serenade me or something, I just wished to be respected. But they treated me like I was some disease, some kind of curse in their life. I felt secluded. I was at a point where I wanted to stay alone but I hated being lonely.

I would sleep hugging my pillow tightly, praying for this embrace to fix all the shattered pieces of my heart, craving for them to end up in their true places. I remember the nights I cried myself to sleep, hushing the sobs by stuffing duvet in my mouth. My snuffles died muffled in the depth of that light blue cotton comforter that actually comforted me. I still remember how I apologized to them daily. I would say- "Dear pillow, I am so sorry for dousing you with my tears and dear duvet, I am so sorry for all the miseries I have caused you by stuffing you in my mouth."

But according to science pillow and duvet were non-living things and non-living things don't reply. Was I really insane then? Because I talked to them all the time.

I created my own world where the sun shines all the time and rains are not prerequisite for rainbows to adorn the blue above. I envisaged a small squad of pals who accepted me the way I am. 'We' became a little family of five who never left each other's side. They never hurt me, unlike this cruel world. They encouraged me and appreciated the beauty my every wound, my every flaw owned. I felt at home there. They won't complain. They won't demand. They would just stick with me through thick and thin.

I called one of them Faith and always fancied him as the one possessing big blue orbs with smile of an angel. Then came Jay with deep pools of chocolate golden brown adorning his chiselled features. He was the one with tousled dirty brown hair. Av was the youngest one. Deep black eyes and smooth blond locks were her priceless assets. And then Jesus, my deity, my saviour. They were the sunshine in my dark gloomy life.

I never noticed how much I fell for the idea of being loved, being accepted and finally not falling in definition of lonely, until now when it's backfiring. I forgot reality. I forgot that sweet escapes have an end too and when reality kicks in, you find yourself in the middle of that never ending cycle again. I feel miserable. I pity my condition. I feel wounded to acknowledge that I was pushed away from this world to the extent that I created a world of my own. A world that never existed. I will only be able to hug my pillow and duvet when I fall apart. No matter what I imagine those lifeless things as, they will always be lifeless. They won't reply to me. They won't caress my hair gently to help me fall asleep. They won't sing me to sleep. They won't come alive.

But you know what hurts even more? It's the fact that you can't let anybody see what you are feeling inside because this cruel world turns its back at broken things. When you can't let your true emotions run wild. When you have to engulf your pain behind the happy façade. The moments when you are smiling in front of people but you are slowly dying inside. When you can't handle the suffocation anymore and burst into crying. The moment you think "Oh only if they knew whats inside. This petite figure hides a universe full of sorrows". Those moments when you bite your lip hard and blink again and again to suck threatening feelings up.

I was one of those kids who would spend hours reading random quotes to find the one that explains everything I couldn't say, who would listen to a song again and again just because the lyrics mean a lot. I was the one whose wishes upon shooting stars were spent begging for care of people who will never care. You know that moment when you have a blade in your hand and you can end everything right then and there but you try to find a small ray of hope to not do that. The feeling when you look at your reflection in mirror and your eyes are glassy because of tears and then it hits you that 'these two beautiful orbs look magnificent when you cry as if they are made just for crying's sake' that's when it hurts. That's when you feel whole world crashing down on you. That's when you feel repeatedly stabbed by knives in chest and that's when you have no tears left to shed and you can feel physical pain in chest. That's when your heart really shatters.

And then your concise bombards you with questions-What did I do to deserve this? Am I that bad? What did I do wrong? When will this end? Why me? But you never find an answer. That's when it hurts. That's when it kills.

My lower lip quivered as I read this. The paper fell on ground, wet with my tears. Apparently I was crying my heart out as the bad reminiscences crept in with each word I read from the paper I found in my personal diary. A dairy too precious for me to throw even after 6 years. I almost fell on ground but that soothing grip around my shoulder tightened preventing me from falling. I looked up and instantly my eyes locked with those two deep pools of chocolate that were giving me a reassuring glint. I forced a smile and nodded. His hand slid down my shoulder and found my hand. He gently caressed the scars I had from self-harming in the crook of my elbow and intervened our fingers together. Wiping the left traces of pain from my cheeks, he leaned closer, touching his forehead with mine.

"I will catch you, if you fall." My lips curved slightly into a small genuine smile and I suddenly felt blessed. Blessed that I finally found someone I can run to when I feel down. Blessed that finally I am not alone. Blessed that I waited for the right human to walk in my life. Blessed that I found somebody who accepts me just the way I am. Who is not afraid of being pushed away by me and loves my every imperfection. Somebody I can call mine. Somebody who personified Jay. I felt peace and I bet my life there is no better feeling.

A tug at my hand snapped me out of my never ending reverie. I followed the slight pull until we walked over and unloaded the last carton from the trunk of black Range Rover parked in front of the villa whose doorplate proudly boosted the name carved out of the wooden frame. The name that still sends shivers down my spine- Lexi and Jason's.

~Soumya