The Saints Of Mibba

It’s that cold feeling that tells you that you’re not capable.
I’ll never achieve what I want in life.
I’m too young, too ignorant, and not understanding anything.

But, I understood everything. My family was going down in the dumps. We’re going to be homeless, there was no other option. I absolutely hated that feeling. It was the force.

Life was changing all around me. I was changing, it was time for a change but I didn’t want it. It was sick, it was evil.

I had no friends. Why? Everyone had this thought that I was a lesbian. Goddamn, even if I were to be a lesbian, I wasn’t a disease. Had violent bruises from mean kids.
School was terrifying, and home...wasn’t exactly what I’d be proud of to call my home.

Coming home every afternoon when school ended meant going home, and facing many new problems. Dad got a heart attack. Mom’s car broke down. Work was going slow.

I was just too stressed.
Every other kid in the fifth grade had awesome siblings, a fabulous car, parent’s that would make them proud on work day. My parent’s just never gave a damn. They would hear me crying, and just leave me. Mom never gave me a hug.

What made it all worse was that, they would hit on a daily basis.
It wasn’t that pitiful smack on the back, with dad’s belt. It was throwing objects against me, without any mercy. Being threatened with a knife. That really shut me up.

I was trapped. I was afraid they would kill me. They adored my sister, she was a genius and would take care of them in the future. I was just Susmita, the girl that was afraid of everything. To this day, I still have a great fear of many common things. Water. Animals. Empty spaces. You name it, I hate it.

I knew I was weak.
I was loosing my vision.
I hated the world.
Suddenly, nothing revolved around me. I grew in to a cold space. Destiny was calling out, I hate no fate. We had presentations at my school about suicide. This, brought a whole new introspect of life for my little self. I was planning it. I would do it. So young, so clueless.

I woke up one day, and looked in the mirror. I started noticing all these flaws. That had to be the reason all the kids hated me. So, I told myself, it was time for a change.

I would do whatever they wanted.
Whatever they made fun of would be changed the next day.

I grew to be something I didn’t even know was. I was known as a happy girl, from than. Everyone saw me a bright kid. That may have a future doing something important. I started listening to my parents demands. I was a slave. Everyone had control over me. My own self, was fading away.

No one knew it.
But, I was closer to that suicide.
But, every time I tried, I would end up making couple of big cuts. Nothing that took my life.
Once again, I was a disappointment towards myself. Damn it, I wouldn’t even kill myself properly. I’m an idiot. I had no self esteem. I thought I had absolutely nothing I was decent at.

I was losing my vision again.
Whenever something was on TV, I would start brawl out crying on the floor.
I couldn’t stop it.
It just happened.
I was taken to the doctors; they said I had mental problems.

Fuck them. Screw the world, and there undeserving ideas. They told my parent’s about going to an asylum. Oh hell no. I would not have that. Because I knew they were wrong, I once had faith in myself. I loved that feeling. Proving someone wrong. I knew, if I let out my feelings and said my own part. I may be able to change what they were going to do.

So, I told them.
Everything I felt, and thought.
They then just thought about seeing my eyes.
It wasn’t me. I wasn’t insane, just had horrible eyes.

I was happy, I did something better for myself.

I wasn’t thinking about how easy it would be for me to die at that asylum. I was thinking about myself. I was so proud.

Better then everything, I was living.
For once, I was happy. I thanked whatever god there may be out there for my existence. I would live life the way I wanted it.

It was absolutely the best feeling in the whole world.
Then, I found Mibba.
I found angels on this very site, I found fairytales that they called stories. If they can do it, I can too. I started writing. It was amazing. I fell in love with poetry.

It was me, I went against my demon. My fear’s, my everything. If that pathetic little girl can do it, everyone else can too. I’m no saint, no hero, but I’m myself. And, I’m okay with that.