I want to breathe

Content warnings (mention of panic attacks, parental neglect)



I have never been more terrified of the unknown.

What is written in my future? What darkness do I have to fumble through to reach that flicker of light that will help me hold on to that filmsy thread of will to live?

I have heard people consoling each other holding onto the notion that everything has to fall apart in order to fall into its right pattern. And how everything happens for a reason. Does it? Or is it just a silly little lie that we have tried to paint in the fake colours of hope. But hope for what exactly? What exactly are we looking for in life? Money? Fame? Love? Family? Happiness? Aren't all of these things tied to each other?

Does anyone know what they actually want from life?

Because I don't.

I don't know what I want.

But I do know what I don't want. I dont want to feel the way I am feeling right now.

Broken.

Caged.

Anguised.

There's hope because there is always hope but what is hope without any way out?

I want to run away and I can, because there is nothing physically holding me back. But I can't. I can't because the invisible restraints have bruised me to a point that moving feels like death in itself.

But there are worse things than death.

And I have to move. I need to move. Because if I don't move my fate will be burning in those flames that will eat every ray of hope alive.

So I move.

But I am stopped.

Like always.

Breathe.

So I do. I breathe. And open the door putting an end to the incessant knocking.

"Mama." My voice cracks even if I will it not to. Because she was my Mama. She was supposed to be on my side.

"Be ready tomorrow." She doesn't notice. Or maybe she does but she doesn't care. My heart hopes for the former but my mind knows better.

"I can't. I have a double shift tom-" She cuts me off even before I can complete my sentence.

"Deja." She lets out an exasperated sigh as if I have drained all of her energy. Maybe I have. Maybe I am the most selfish person in this world. "I know what you are doing, its not going to work. Your wedding is in two weeks. So please can you maybe act like you are actually happy?"

"But I am not. I am not happy and I never will be if I get marri-" I stop as she closes her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment.

How many times have we had this conversation before? Ten times? Hundred times? But at the end it still doesn't matter.

"Deja why don't you understand." She puts her hand on my shoulder trying to put all the comfort she can into the touch. "A mother always wants the best for her children. Trust me, you will thank me later in life." She smiles patting me once before leaving the room telling me to cancel my shift.

How can she claim to love me while also depriving me of my basic rights? My basic rights that hold everything that I have wanted since childhood.

My Freedom.

My Happiness.

My Peace.

Everything that I have sacrificed since childhood. Maybe that was where I went wrong. Maybe giving all of yourself away just because you love someone is a foolish thing to do. Even if that someone is your own blood and flesh.

Because we are always going to be the bad guy. We could burn ourselves in hell for someone's happiness but we will still end up being the bad guy.

I understand now. But its too late. Too late to right the wrong while holding on to the past.

But.

It is never too late to not give up.

Never too late to choose yourself.

My voice might have cracked but resolve did not. And it never would. Because that's the only thing I have carried dear to me. So I wipe the tears, lock the door and take the notepad that I never came around to using because I thought it was too pretty.

Nothing pretty lasts forever.

Holding the pen that my mother gifted me on my engagement, I write the only thought that always comes to my mind before I have panic attacks induced by all the mental cages I have been put in from the very start.

"I want to breathe"

And then write the words that I mean with my whole heart but not in the way she wants me to.

"I am sorry, Mama."

And I end it with a truth that hurts, it hurts so bad that it has me gasping through my sobs.

"I love you."

Because I do and I always will. Because I cannot imagine not loving her.

"I love you more than anything but I can't do this. I have decided to love myself too and for the first time in my life, I am choosing myself. And I am not sorry for that."

I want to write more. I want to write everything I wanted to tell her. Everything she never took any interest in. I want to tell her how the most capable businessman of the city lauded me on my determination. How he told me not to waste my potential. I want to tell her that the man she wants me to marry is only doing it because he wants me to surrender to him. Why? Because I stood up to him.

He only sees me as the challenge he wants to tick off his list.

A man wants what he can't have.

And that's the only reason that sick person wants me.

All I have ever wanted in my life is to be my own person.

And he wants to take that away from me.

Because I told him no.

And that hurt his ego.

So he is turning that no into a yes.

But I know she would not understand. Because she never has and maybe she never will.

My reasons are always an excuse to her.

You can do it.

I can do it.

It's not the time to doubt. You have done enough of that in the past twenty years. No more.

So I do it.

I take out the worn out duffel bag and start putting every necessary thing I would need to survive. I do not have the money to leave this city. But I do have the engagement gifts that would help me survive a few weeks if sold. So I take out all the fancy rings and bracelets except a few and put them in my bag. I carry the remaining jewellery in my pockets, under my bra, in my socks because you should always have a second plan as there's always the chance of things going wrong.

And they will go wrong.

Because that's life. And we have to deal with it.

I do not have any perfect plan in my mind. I just have an aim and I have to take the step. The path is scary, it's dark. No one knows what is ahead and we will never know if we won't take that step.

So I take the step, I climb down the window in the dark of the night. Not knowing what awaits for me.

Misery?

Maybe.

But all I know right now is that I don't regret it. I might not have made the right choice. I might have just made the worst choice of my life. Who knows?

But I can breathe a little easy knowing that I was the one who made the choice. For the first time in my life, I successfully gathered enough courage to choose myself.

And it feels refreshing.

It feels like life.

Maybe it won't in the next few days when all the stress of life crashes down on me. But till then, I will take it. Because there is no other feeling like this one. And I will so anything in my power to hold on to it.

I will breathe.

One day, I will.