Enduring hurts and living like I’m fine with what everyone did to me. You could be killing me slowly, yet I’d nod to it. I couldn’t speak out for myself or say what exactly I wanted. It was tough!
After secondary school, I had to step out into life and face the real deal. For all the places I’ve lived, and the roommates/house-mates I’ve had (save one), there was always one issue or the other. I couldn’t tell if I was the problem or they were. For every silly, annoying, and frustrating moments, I’d sulk in and cry in my closet. I remember a particular lady I once lived with. It was so serious that it almost led to depression, and if you ask me, that was the worst person I’ve ever lived with all my life. I had put up with her acts and I couldn’t confront her to stop some things. I feel so bad right now.
In my frustrating moments, little me would complain to my parents; they would console me to an extent, and then pour the blames back on me. Gradually, I started withdrawing myself from the entire world. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe no one in this world can understand me. Maybe it’s all about me.
Why can’t I say NO? Why can’t I refuse a request? Do I really have to sacrifice something really important to please other people, just because I can’t refuse it? Should I be frustrated, and act like I’m fine? These and many more were the questions on my mind. They are still on my mind anyway, it’s not like I’m completely delivered from it.
And to think that I’ve once been sexually harassed but I couldn’t jerk off the person’s hands, or slap him, or tell him to his face not to ever dare it anymore. It wasn’t once; it wasn’t twice. I think about it now, and I feel really bad about myself. Many times, I just want to hit my head on a pole, in sacrifice for my foolish days as a teenager…
To be continued…
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