Broken

They all see past me, ignore my very core existence. Make no effort to acknowledge my presence at any given occasion. They all laugh and smother her with love, cuddling and hugging her. It is by no means jealousy as it is envy. I am not jealous of what affection they give her, as I don’t want it. I am envious of her persona, who she is and what she stands for. I crave to embody her traits, so much so that I have fantasies where I am her and her ability to not be a prig. The whole debacle had become a truism to me.

I shrivel at the thought of what is about to happen, as I am fully aware. He strips me of my clothing, without a hint of gentleness. First, he tears at my pants, yanking them off me, and still I don’t make a sound. He wears a look of belligerence in his eyes, coupled by a hint of anger. The resentment is evident in his smirk, alongside it vanity. He looks me in the eye, daring me to fight, daring me to move, and daring me to make an escape from his filthy, blood reeking hands. I make no move to leave, nor fight his rough hands. He continues to cut my shirt open, revealing my bare braless chest. To his satisfaction, I wince. I look away, and count the minutes away, that feel like years. He rapes me.

Even as a I play this thought out, it does not come close to the reality I wish upon myself. Years of hatred towards men, has grown heart deep and has poisoned me like un-oxygenated air, beginning to fill the spaces that linger. It runs in my veins, jumping synapses and not missing a beat. It’s engulf is consolation for what I have done, the lies I have told. Buried so deep in my hate for men, I have forgotten its origin. What was supposed to be a mere day dream, turned into a reality when one fateful day I was unable to stop the words from tumbling out my broken heart and saying the words, “He raped me.”

It was the perfect lie, as it justified my inability to get along with men, it justified my lack of respect but most of all it provided room for pity. I saw it in their eyes, the want to hold me and wish the pain away. Only, the pain was not of a man forcefully taking my one priced possession. No, it was pain that ran to the day of my birth. The man who helped in my creation walked out on his creation. It made me feel as though I was not enough, as though the bundle of joy a child is to be, was not bundled enough. That his heart could not skip a beat at the sight of me, that his heart could not fill with love for me such that it is all he knew. See this is where it all began, but no one knows.

Instead, they feed off my negative energy which gives them reason enough to stay away, to keep their distance, to treat me like glass. Glass, has the properties with which I have lived all my life. It shields the wind threatening to disperse anything that may lay in its wake, yet one looks right through it. I am that glass, I am that reflection that only shows face in the sight of darkness. Only then can one see the reflection that is a girl begging to be seen.

I envy her ability to forget that our father walked out on us. She is able to smile regardless of the neglect that is an absent father. Her ability to smile, shine and be all that she is destined to be without being crippled by things that cannot be changed. Why then am I unable to take back the lie, that I was not raped. Instead, I should tell the truth, “I was robbed of a father”.

This is purely fiction. It’s something I am trying out. Post your comment and let me know what you think.