An angry mind

I remember the soft bed under me. I remember the wetness flowing down from my eyes and I tried desperately to silence my sobs. There was no end to the grief piercing my heart again and again and again...

 

Sometimes, life seems like a burden. People around you constantly try to mould you according to their wishes and at the same time try to make themselves more like the person THEY admire. Whatever happened to individuality? Being unique? Having your own personal style and taste?

 

I was in a terrible state. Thoughts - both burning and icy cold - raced through my conscience at a blinding and incomprehensible speed. I wanted to STOP and focus on what it was exactly that pushed me to this. Why was I crying my eyes out in the first place? Why I was feeling like the most worthless snob in existence?

 

The immediate blame game that followed was not new to me? Whenever in crisis, we always tend to find someone or the other who is supposedly the cause of all our misery and yet, we ignore the pangs that tug at the bottoms of our heart shouting in retaliation, saying that the conclusion is but unfair and exaggerated.

 

It goes around a full three hundred and sixty painful degrees and I find the sole reason for me being so very distressed and pathetic. My mother, who, with all her words and actions seems to highlight only one thing - her life made miserable by an equally miserable and useless daughter. Me!

 

I try to tell myself otherwise, that there are many people who are not burdened by the fact that I am alive and breathing, but all the scolding sessions, the tearful and piercing way of conveying a simple message or advice, or the very fact that I have never actually hugged my own mother, sent me into a whole new series of convulsing sobs that echoed throughout the dark and silent room.

 

All through my life, I remember, unknowingly, but I have strived to please my mother and to have her admire and appreciate me, say a few kind and loving words spontaneously, laugh with me, understand and give me a free choice regarding my life, or maybe simply telling me how much she loves me. Simple childhood dreams and expectations which were more or less realized but I recall quite the contrary.

 

But at the same time, I remind myself of the pained life my mother has been living throughout the last 18 years or more. I wasnt aware till now about how she was emotionally and financially insecure and had trouble adjusting with my carefree and forgetful dad. Not to forget the in-laws who always turned up to accelerate the troubles.

 

There comes the major problem. I stare at the ceiling, which I can't see very clearly, as I try to come up with a reasonable and logical explanation to my present condition. The fact is that I'm upset, sad, in fact. The reason being the insensitivity or the lack of expression of whatever sensitivity she, my mother might nurture in her heart. A very strong argument opposing the above statement is that she is unable to cope up with her own troubles in life.

 

That leaves me in limbo, a moral dilemma that ever remains un-resolved.

 

Maybe one should leave the mind to rant on its own without making it negotiate with the reasons and circumstances. Maybe the ocean of tears should be let loose until the eyes are dry as a twig and there's a chance that you might feel light-headed. Maybe the anger and the frustration should end with your sighs and screams. Because holding them back would create more problems. The bottled chagrin and grievance find their way out anyhow and befall an innocent victim who just by chance, happens to be near you..

 

[might be continued...]

Author's Note

any comments/corrections?

Reviews

[princesspoet]

good post, but is your uniqueness against your better beliefs? is that causing problems against morality in your faith? is the advice they are giving meant for a higher overall ending? something better for you in the long run? personal style should not interfere with Gods grace, if it does take the advice they give you, good post

[Beautifully Tragic xPoe..]

I thought in some lines throughout the story it was like you were sneaking in to my diary or something. I loved the second paragraph. Normally I dont read people's stories but for some reason this drew me in deeper and deeper throughout the whole story. Awesome job, keep writing.