W O R D S

I'M A T E R R I B L E M O T H E R

I am a terrible mother,
Because I left my child,
In the stage, where she needed me the most.
I am a terrible mother,
Because – instead of doing what is "right",
And that is to nurture something of mine,
Which is also a crucial moment,
In my newly formed family,
I decided (I made a choice),
A choice,
Which is to go away,
Because it didn't feel right to me.

You see,
This was never something I ever wanted,
A family life,
But has anyone asked of me that?
Has anyone actually bother to sit down with me and have a talk about it, face to face, with me?
Instead, they neglect me and my thought-provoking ideas and told me that it was just a phase,
They told me that I'll outgrow it,
And sooner or later, my maternal instinct will kick in later on in life,
Hence, everything will be alright,
While discarding my worries as if it was nothing more than just a two-cent thought.

I am a terrible mother,
Because when my daughter is growing up,
Somewhere in the nearest future,
And in need of my guidance the most,
I wouldn't be there.
Instead, I would be somewhere across the world accepting what it has to offer me,
I wouldn't be there to tell her that, at the age of 11 or 12 her body is going to go through some changes,
And maybe just maybe she's going to start to develop feelings for some people,
And it's absolutely normal to feel this way.

In fact,
I wouldn't be there to hug her when she graduates from elementary school,
Or when she got her first kiss from that cute boy with brown hair and freckles that she has always like in her AP Chemistry class.
No - I wouldn't be there at all,
And I am definitely am going to miss most of her birthdays,
Because I am a terrible mother.

But hey,
Maybe just maybe,
I'll send her some cool postcards from all these beautiful places I have ever been,
With long awful letters telling her about my incredible journey,
And I haven't forgotten her,
In fact, I love her with all my heart,
Only she's not a part of these adventures,
And I wonder if she could find herself relating to what I'm writing to her,
But at least, I did wish her on important dates through my postcards,
And maybe just maybe,
Those are enough to make up for all those times I have lost with her,
Maybe just maybe,
These words I'm sending to her will be enough to make up for my non-existent, almost necessary, presence in her life.

In fact, I am a terrible wife,
Because instead of being bold and brave,
And staying by his side to build a "home",
A "safe haven" for our still fresh family,
I left.

And along with me,
I took all of his trust,
Crushed his soul and shattered his heart,
Because I told him – this is not the life I wanted,
It never was,
But I convinced myself and him when he told me he wanted me.

"Then, what is the life you want?" he asked, furious, not understanding,
I told him, "I'm sorry." Long silence.
And he asked me, "Then why walked into this marriage?"
"Why said yes?"
"Why you told me you love me?"

So many whys, but unfortunately, no answers,
His eyes were burning with questions,
Demanding for explanation,
And I greeted his innocent but fiery questions with long heavy silences.

But I never lied,
When I told him I love him,
I meant it, with every breath I take.

But what am I supposed to say to this really?
I am a monster in this scene,
I am about to break the soul of an innocent when she wakes up,
And I just killed a man who loves me alive,
Consume him whole just because I made a choice,
Without consulting them first,
I need to see the world, I wanted to say,
I am not done yet, there's so much for me out there,
And I am here?
My talents, my capabilities, my intelligence, my dreams,
And I am here.

In search of words, I stuttered, "The world . . . I . . . "
Then he rushed in and asked, "Are we not your world?"
"Isn't this enough for you?"
I felt claustrophobic under his intense teary gaze and an infinite amount of questions,
I am at fault here.