Spill My Words

by Batool Zaidi 2 years ago in divorce

The words keep falling out.

Spill My Words

It’s 12:29 am, and I’m sitting in the office of this house I live in. This isn’t me writing to anyone, but I want to say a couple things that have been on my mind. This is directed towards one person, and one person only. I know you’ll never read this, but here is to you.

I wish you all the best in life, I know you aren’t the biggest fan of my father, nor the rest my family. You’re wounded, in some way. I’ve never been able to understand what I’ve done to hurt you, or the reason for your bitterness. I stay up these ungodly hours, to write what my mind screams but isn’t able to let out, because there is too much on my mind. I want to tell you so many things, I want to scream so many things, but there is something holding me back. I wish that one little part of me would leave, so I would be able to tell that everything you say has an effect on people’s lives. So maybe consider closing the door behind you before you go off about my father. I know he isn’t here, but I’m not quite a fan of crying myself to sleep every night because of your words.

You say that a house in which they worship in is full of happiness, but you pray everyday, and nothing seems to get better. I tried to pray, I’ve been praying since my mother was sick, but nothing has changed. My life is still stuck in the same well; I’ve tried to save myself, but I just have enough air for just one person, and I give all my love to this one person. I love my little sister, because she reminds me what I live for everyday. I live for myself, but I have to be the best me I can be, for her. So I gave her the last of my sanity. I don’t think I can help it anymore, It’s my first instinct. I’m not saying I don’t believe in god. I’m asking, why isn’t this working the way I’ve been told it’s supposed to work. Something isn’t right. I’ve been blaming myself, and my father has been blaming himself.

You tell your daughter to love the way she looks, which I admire, but why won’t you pass that advice to anyone? You told me that I should stop using my glasses, because I look better without them. I’ve told you that I like my glasses— they add more personality to me— but you don’t budge. You’ve told me that I’ve got to “fix” my skin, which makes me laugh, because at this point I’ve started to love my spots and discoloration on my skin. You’ve pointed out the way I dress, I sometimes dress androgynous, but I love the way I dress. You tell your own, that loving yourself and your flaws is beautiful, but you tell me to change my flaws, because they aren’t good enough for those in your social groups.

I feel like an unwanted house guest. When we go out, I am not introduced until someone sees me uncomfortably smiling behind your daughter and asks “...and who’s that?” I don’t live for your validations, but I don’t want to be ignored. I take up space in your house, and your life, and for that I apologize dearly. I truly do. I’ve caused pain in your life— I’m sorry.

You support your daughter's interest in fashion, which I find wonderful. I hope to be blessed with children one day and support them the way you do. But why is it, that you find my love and passion for film and writing disgusting and a waste of time? You would never tell me that to my face. You fear I’ll become my father. I would love to apologize for that, but I don’t think I can. That’s the man who created me, so I have his genes, so I’m sorry that I can’t change into something you want me to change to.

It’s 1:00 am and now, after a couple tears later, I still hope you learn about the ways of life.

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