Writers Jam

i think maybe i've belittled it for so long that it's taking revenge.

you’re twelve years old and you’re moving to a different city with your anxious mother, so that your brother can join a coaching institute. he has always known what he wanted to become.

you’re twelve years old and you cry on the first day of your new school and make a fool of yourself in front of the entire class. time goes on. you make a couple of friends with your classmates but the teachers still wonder why you’re always so quiet.

school ends, and you sit alone on the bus until you’re back home. you eat alone at the dining table since your mother is taking a nap and your brother is studying in his room, as he always does. you pick up your mother’s phone, text your favourite elder cousin who you think is your friend, then download a few one direction funny videos and watch them. later in the evening, you’re sitting with your mother in the living room and she’s watching tv. you start telling her about what happened in school and who did what, until you realise that she is using the tv remote to drown out your voice.

you’re thirteen years old and you now have a best friend who loves one direction as much as you do. you have recently joined coaching classes too. there, you make a friend who introduces you to wattpad. she recommends some of her favourite books to you. you spend your nights reading them after your mother is asleep. you end up skipping school several times because you can’t get up early enough after that. days go by. you watch your school best friend start hanging out with other girls instead of you and it feels like a betrayal. she still calls you her best friend but it only makes you angry. you say nothing to her.

you go home, and you install an online game that your favourite elder cousin used to play when you were little, on your mother’s cellphone.

you’re thirteen years old and your mom is angry. she tells you how you make everything difficult for her and that she wishes she could do something about it, do something to you. of course she’s just angry, of course it’s just that. of course she doesn’t mean it… right?

you’re thirteen years old and your life is falling apart. your school best friend has a boyfriend now and she never shares with you the things she shares with the other girls. you know nonchalance now though. so you sit in your bus under the mutilating gaze of the bus conductor; you ignore, you survive, and you go home and hop on the online game. you end up becoming good friends with a stranger who’s twice your age. he’s a good person, and a great listener. unlike your mother, he asks you about school every day and is always on your side against your best friend. you play 8-ball pool matches with him after school.

you’re thirteen years old and you’ve been replaced by your best friend but it’s okay. you have gained another one, online.

one day, your father visits the city and you’re always happy to see him. soon your parents start arguing over something that concerns you, and when you’re just about to go to bed, your mother enters the room, points her finger at you and tells you that you’re always the reason why your parents fight.

you’re thirteen years old and you do not want to age any further. so when your mother tells you to do the dishes, you learn to look at the kitchen knives a little longer. you just want to make her happy.

you’re thirteen years old and your favourite cousin forgets your birthday. it hurts you because your brother received his wish just a night ago. you say nothing, again.

you’re thirteen years old and your online friend tells you that he loves you and you believe him. you’re thirteen years old and your online friend tells you that he wants you, so you leave him.

you’re thirteen years old. so you never forget your mother’s pointing finger, or your favourite cousin’s betrayal, or how your only safe space turned out to be someone who had just been waiting to swallow you whole. you’re thirteen years old and you don’t have a home.

you’re nineteen years old and you’re completely alone. after caging yourself in silence for so long, vengeance finally finds you. you’re screaming, begging, clawing at the walls of your own mind for an ounce of sanity, for a whisper that tells you it wasn’t your fault. you can’t find it, you’re confined.

one morning, you’re chatting with your friend and you accidentally blurt something out. she tells you that it wasn’t your fault. you listen but you don’t believe her.

the next couple of days, you stumble and you wail. you talk to an ai and it tells you that it wasn’t your fault. but who would know better than your thirteen-year-old self?

so you sit next to her and tell her about your doubts. and she starts speaking as if it’s the first time someone’s listening to her. you can feel her shoulders relax and her fists unclench; she feels relieved to have you, someone who knows exactly what she’s talking about.

as she ends her story, you give her a pat on the back, an awkward side hug, even though she deserves a whole lot more for saving your life six years ago. but it’s enough for now. she tells you that she has felt the safest with you; so, in return, she gives you a solid ground to land on, a place where you can build your own home.

so that's how you know you can never go home, because it isn’t a place you can run to.

home is your thirteen-year-old self, still willing to build you one.