When the girls of my age were playing with rag dolls and kitchen sets
I set out to play with crockery and knives,
Snatching them away from their strong hands,
Getting injured during all that process.
When the girls of my age were dressing their rag dolls
I was picking up the pieces of the broken cups
And dressing the unintentional injuries I endured.
I looked around.
There was so much peace.
Except the four walls I lived in.
When children of my age went out on family dinners
I looked forward to fights post-dinner.
Hoping them to stop one day.
We were a happily unhappy family
Trying hard to live together
When our hearts and brains ripped apart.
Yes! A happily unhappy family
Which couldn’t stay intact like your family
Or other families in my neighborhood.
We were an unhappy family because whenever we took a walk
It was a walk away from each other and each other’s heart
Letting the distance tear us apart.
They called me strong, they called me brave
But I was just a marionette getting immune to the breaking threads,
Hurled abuses and clamors.
But the disease when struck me, did show its sign.
Eyes red, body sunken, mind torn with dolor
Which they would give scientific clinical names,
Calling it melancholia and dysthymia.
When girls of my age dream of being an artist or a doctor
I dream of escaping from this world of dungeon.
I look around.
There is so much peace
That the silence makes me feel deaf
And all I could do is listen my throat clean, uhm uhm!
To make me feel that my senses are still alive even if my soul isn’t.
When the children of my age celebrate festivals and success stories
I celebrate an unhappy family.