Even Heroes Have The Right To Bleed

“You tried to fight it. You couldn’t hide it.”

See-sawing between extremes of emotions can take its toll on anybody. But it’s worse because you’d rather be a nobody. Your world was divided into two kinds of people.  The ones that cared and the ones who you wanted care from. Poor soul, never had a chance, did you?

Can anybody go through torment and come out not twisted? The answers are tattooed on the inside of your left wrist. Alphabet scars. That’s what’s left of the times when you believed that finally, finally, this time it would be alright.

Okay, so you broke. But then why is it imperative that you put the pieces back together and move on?  You’re better off broken because nobody can kill something that is long dead. Little consolation for the soul.

So then what happens to all the things you wanted? Do you just give it up? Do you remake your wishlist, knowing all the time that shooting stars and eyelash wishes and 11:11 don’t work in the world today? Is there a place where you are safe anymore? Or can you be with anyone that will not hurt you- willingly?

Some say your own head is your only haven. But I don’t perceive it as a refuge. It’s like being quarantined. Oh, the world is not treating you right, so You gotta  retreat into this place where the rooms are ochre and there are lilies in long necked vases. But you cant smell them anymore.

Some say that you gotta love yourself. Because if you cant love yourself and cant keep yourself happy, how can you expect someone else to do it for you?

So I love myself sometimes. Most of the time I do not.  And I left to see who will miss me. But they forgot.

And now the only thing that was really my own, other than my name- my will to survive, my will to endure, my will to tell the rest of the world that hope is not dead- is gone. Disillusionment? I shudder to think that it might be.

And then I come across some old, familiar faces, many of them people with seemingly ‘happy’ lives today.  Did I not teach them how to take what you want if it makes you happy? How it felt to be lost and abandoned? How to cry their first real tears for a woman?  Was I not the reason for the change in their playlists and increase in alcohol? Did I not teach them about life and growing up?

I have been the first for many.  And I would like to believe that they are happy now because they won’t commit the same mistakes they made with me. And now they run away to their little virgin girlfriends, afraid to hurt them.

“Well, you know what it’s like. You’ve been through this and you’ve come out strong. But she, she’s new to all this. She won’t be able to take it.”

 So, experience and pain. “ This is my gift, my curse,” huh?  As somebody told me once- “You can live with that.”   So in a way, in a seemingly unbelievable way I would like to think that I saved them.

 I am a Superhero.

Who will save me?