I need you to read something, and tell me if it looks complete. Was a 15 year old. I cried. It hurt. It hurt to know that time won't be the same, I won't be prancing around in the living room screaming on top of my lungs, "Mamma! Mamma! Look at me dance!". I won't be slumping in the sofa watching Spiderman or Phineas and Ferb while smacking my lips with garlic flavoured chips. I won't be lying on top of my bed in twisted positions for three hours straight reading a novel while my parents snore in their Sunday afternoon siestas, exhausted with us. It hurt that I won't be able to watch some of the baby years of my sister, when I'm in college, and I won't be able to spend time with her, and to her, I'll probably be another cranky adult, or the aunty-type sister, holding her too close, too tight, whenever I meet her. Only I know the glory in my eyes when I saw her, ten minutes old. Time will pass fast. And it shook me badly that there's no " reliving" or going back. I won't be able to demand things, I won't be fussing, I won't be telling ma, I want idli-sambhar, I won't be telling papa to make me eggplant with chilly so hot my mouth burns with excitement. It hurt bad. It hurt so bad that all these things I had taken for granted, all these silly moments, they'll end, this kid called Ramona will end, these moments would end, everything will end. My childhood will end. And I'll realize this at the end. It hurt that everybody in the world does this. It looks so easy. But it hurts bad. What hurt the most is that I'll have to watch my parents grow old. I'll have to be alive all that fucking time. I'll have to watch each one of them die, and go on with whatever life I have. I won't be able to relive this. It hurt that everybody does this. Everybody. And someday when I'll find romantic love, I'll probably forget about deaths and hurting and people and childhood, and walk on. Run on. Fly on. Dream. Achieve. Soar. Then there'll be moments when I'll wish it'd hurt, but it wouldn't, and I'll carry on. I remember that "Always" my mamma and papa had told me when I was in one of my teenager drama breakdowns, and I told them sarcastically that they love me only because they have no choice, and that I'll have to do everyfrickin thing alone. They said, "No, we love you no matter what. We're raising a woman capable of everything, but there'll be times when things fail, or times when you won't want to go on, and our doors will be open. You can still come in and take off your bra and take that bag of chips and wrap yourself in a blankie and binge-watch Disney movies or Cheaper by the dozen, while we tell you jokes and make you laugh and cry and look like that stupid baby you were, dropping your saliva outta your mouth. You can come to us, even if everything's going good. It is your whole right to tell us to make your favorite food, to prance around like a retarded adult, dancing to trashy songs, to demand for a hug when you need one, to make us read you a bedtime story with bournvita milk, to force us, to remind us if you need to. We are yours and you are ours. We're there, always. Always." Yet it hurt, it hurt that I was the one who snatched away their youth, I was the one who had sucked their time and energy and I was the one who hurt them, being a nasty teenager, I was the one who didn't make them proud enough. I didn't do special things. And that they wouldn't be there "always", they'll be for me till their last breath. Even though it hurts, I realize that's better than having an eternity. When you realize there's never a forever, you begin holding on tight to whatever you can hold onto. It hurt so much I couldn't help crying that night. I'll have to make things, do things, buy my own comfort. Adulthood. But mamma, papa, you'll be there. No fucking man or woman or anyone will be there for me as much as you will be. I'll remember that, I will be there, and you will be there. Always. all of it is true. do tell me if it looks weird or incomplete. wrote it in a breakdown. want my readers to cry as badly as i did, and i know it isn't that emotional as i am. i want to make it like that, but sorry, i got only overreacting curse words, and it will take tine to find my sanity and stability. bless you for giving me your time. Atima
