Deep in melancholy I meandered through the scattered
perplexity of my life, I found I am deeply being sceptic.
Many came up with their thoughts, that I am paranoid.
I was even sceptic the love and care my parents were showing
were to overshadow my identity. I was being put into dark by the love they had
for me. I did not even know whether they were truthful to me in any ways. The more
they exhibited the love the more I was near to acceptance that I am being
fooled.
Suddenly my phone rang, “mom calling”, and I stood there wondering
whether it made any sense now. I was further being thrown into the dilemma of
being pushed into the thought of losing my identity. ‘Mom’ does that hold its
meaning in my life.
I least bothered to attend the call, because I did not want
to hear more lies.
How long will I've to suffer this?
Be in disguise.
Where do I actually belong? To the parents I call my mom and
dad now or some streets where I was thrown when I was born.
I don’t know but I am standing here asking to myself, who am
I?
A girl with a lost identity...I thought to myself.
(This story is
dedicated to a special friend who was orphaned by her own parents)
Is it not true that once one realizes what is causing the suffering (even parents who lie, lie, lie!). the pain of life, living, may subside? When I escaped the "parental prison" I celebrated my new-found freedom with JOY! Nearer to Ecstasy! Of course, the story does not end there, but does end in regard this comment.
ReplyDeleteSarah, you are a fine writer, possibly with a small amount of editing? You have the most important ingredients: vivid imagination, and a desire to communicate your thoughts in story form. I'm gonna read some more before going to bed. Thank you again!
PEACE and LIGHT, Ma'am.