They say hate blinds a person. But to be honest, love blinds one too. Love blinds one so harshly that you can forget that this person has hurt you so badly before and continue to give the whole of your heart to him/her, only to have them breaking that tender piece of flesh again. You can forget those awful pangs in your chest and the hot streams of tears running down drip by drip from your eyes. Why not a flood of tears, you might ask - it is because when the tears flow drip by drip, it is the unshed blood from your breaking heart. But when the tears starts to get uncontrollable, it shows that you yourself, even your mind has already broken. There remains a question though. When they'd already hurt you so thoroughly, why do you still feel the urge to trust them again, to love them again? Why do you still miss them? Is the bond between a mother and child really so strong?
I'd always wonder what is wrong with me, why can't you love and want me. Or rather why couldn't you love me as much as other mothers love their own child.
Until recently I couldn't understand how your actions were affecting me. I remember when I was 9 and suddenly our maid was to be sent home. You told me that I was "older" now and had to learn how to "take care of myself". At that point of time I didn't really understand and when you told me that I could have my own keys and is to return home myself everyday, I was exhilarated.
Going home alone everyday. In my 9 year old mind, I was thrilled to finally be able to be a "grown up" and go "grown up" things. What I didn't know was the other term that entailed my new found freedom. - why do I have to go home alone? While, simply because there's no one at home to fetch me.
Imagine being a ? year old, returning to a dark and empty apartment everyday, facing a takeout dinner on the dining table. Every night, you'd have to turn on the lights alone and sprint to your bed and hide under the blankets, afraid of the non-existent monsters. All that went on in your mind was "I better protect myself. Mommy and (step) daddy not here to save me." You wake up to a quiet and sleeping house every afternoon, with the doors to the master bedroom closed, the only reminder that anyone remembers that you existed was the $1 in coins and sat on top of the television set. Where did she go? - having fun, fooling around, clubbing with her new found boyfriend.
All the while you're alone at home, facing flying creepy crawlies. Your small frame sitting on the expanse of the black leather sofa, watching a dry television show on your own, hugging the puppy close to you, shaking with fear and feeling insecure. That's what happened to me.
I didn't like eating alone so I always threw the rice away after having a mouthful or two and I started neglecting my studies. It was so bad that from the first class, I was streamed to the last few classes the next year. Almost every other day the teacher would call my sleep-muddled mother to ask about my homework.
At that point of time, my mother somehow arranged a "week end" visit with my biological father. Every weekend, my father's friend would pick me up from my mother's and send me to my father's house. it was the highlight of my 9 year old life as it was the time whereby I needn't be alone and I found a piece of my lost childhood. As my father couldn't see me on a regular basis, he treated me like his little princess, showering me with his love and allowing me to eat / do whatever I want and always ordered me my favourite food. The "friend" as mentioned was also very nice to me and treated me like his own daughter. Every sunday night, when I was being sent back to my mother's, I'd always say "please drive slower... I don't want to go back this soon" and then doze off on the truck.