Flip Through The Memories

Thursday, 18 July 2013

Story of a girl.

Somewhere a little down the road, there was a teenage girl who couldn't wait of walking out of that front door of her small house. She couldn't wait to leave it all behind her. Everything about that house was a nuisance. She thought she would have it better out there, somewhere someday. Nothing to be proud of. She was going through a pretty rebellious stage in her teenage years, and she was wrong about almost everything.

What happened to her now?

Well, the person behind the mask of that rebellious teenage girl was me. I'm not sure if I'm totally over that phase. Must sadly proclaim that I'm no longer a teenager. Oh boy, how time flies. I'm turning twenty next month. Nothing, and I repeat, nothing is the same anymore. Nothing is going to be the same anymore. Ever. A lot of unintended things and tragedies have happened for the past months/year. Sometimes I would just lie down on my bed and think about that teenage girl. I still don't know what happened to her. But something about her has changed.

The small house I mentioned earlier was the house I grew up in. I've never known another home. That was the only home I got, the only shelter. I'm not from a rich family. We live in a moderate pace. Without dad, I suppose you could say that I was given a pair of wings, but only one of them worked. It took me a while to really adapt with the situation.

Why did I want to leave it? 

Because it's too broken. I was broken. Everyone in the house was broken in our own ways the night dad died. Everywhere in the house, you could see the cracks. It's painful to watch all of the pain being washed away by mocked happiness. I grew up blaming myself for existing, and it was terrifying to be lonely even when I really wanted to be alone.

Until I finally left home one day, not so far but it was enough to make me stop being the rebellious teenager I was. The first night I spent away from home, I slept well. Maybe because the environment was peaceful and the people I was living with were nice enough to make me feel welcomed. But then the difficulties of being alone, of being on my own, of being far from my broken people was awful. When the first day went well, I thought I've finally gotten what I wanted. But when the realisation dawned on me, I panicked. I was not okay. I haven't found the thing I was looking for.

And it mortified me when I realised I didn't know what I wanted anymore.

Later that year, my brother got engaged and my sister got married, and I've never felt so alone. Not even on the day dad died. I was the only one left. As I pasted a halfhearted smile on my face, I questioned my life over and over again. I've said this many times before. I was truly happy for their happiness and I would do anything to go back and see the happy smiles on their faces, but at the same time, I felt so lonely and alone and it felt like I was no longer needed. In that moment, I swear I was invisible.

So what's the turning point?

My sister got pregnant. That was when I knew my life wouldn't be the same, again. When dad died all those years ago, everything changed. The life I know became the life I knew. When my brother and sister got married, a little adjustment has been made to the current life. I thought everything would be alright. But I was wrong, of course. My sister got pregnant, and not long after, my brother came home all hyped up when he found out his wife got pregnant as well.

And we moved to a new house. The new house wasn't new at all. Dad bought it a couple of years before he passed away. He told mum that she could spend her retirement years in this house. Apparently dad had it all planned out right from the start. Looking at it now, it was as if he already predicted everything. I don't know how to write it all in here, and I don't think I need to. But things turned out pretty messed up and everything we were holding on to was falling, pieces by pieces. The house is not a place to be called home anymore. It's just a shelter for the poor broken souls.

Everyday since we moved into this house, all I ever wanted was to move back to my old house. This house isn't any better than the old one. There are no memories here, only tragedy. We're building nightmares here and I am terrified, scarred for life. Tell me I'm not grateful, tell me other people have it worse, tell me I'm exaggerating... it doesn't matter. I don't expect anyone to care or understand.

But I don't want to think about leaving again.

This only a part of the story. There are so many other things that I have left unsaid. But I couldn't find the right words to put it all together for it to make sense. I don't know why I even bother to spend a solid two hours just trying to work on this piece of nothingness. It makes sense to me, but I don't know if it's the best decision to let you in my head. Oh well, at least the mess of my thoughts are cleared up a little bit.

I just wish I hadn't lost the person I was thirteen years ago. But it's a little to late to say that now.


1 comment:

  1. Basyirah,
    i know u have gone through a lot.
    but be strong.
    thats the only choice u have.
    i am sure He is planning something big for you.
    sabar yea.

    pray your pain away.


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