I am re-reading books that meant nothing to me a few years ago. I am listening to songs that I don’t even like. The day begins with a heaviness and the nights seem a little too longer. I have a corner in the house for myself and my solitude.
My dingy and craziest thoughts that would otherwise give me shivers of pain, find a solace in that corner. My mother says, I am her strongest child. The more sorted one.
Probably, she hasn’t been able to venture into my darkest places and look there. I feel sad for her, as she is in an illusion that her daughter cannot break easily.
But mom, the truth is, I am already shattered and falling into pieces. And I struggling to out them back again in places.
Yet, I am living. Courageously and with head held high. Because, you survived this way all your life. You never let the boat of your strength capsize into the ocean of those who depised you.
Yes, I am okay. I’ll fight. I’ll survive. As I am your daughter. Exactly your shadow.