
Dad works in the Press(printing press, I mean). He leaves early as he has to cycle a long way for his work. I ask mom, why is dad always so angry? Why is he always so rough with me? Why can’t he laugh with me like other kids dad’s do? Mom says, your dad works really hard and so when he comes back from work he has no strength left. But mommy other’s dad also work, they are all nice to their kids.
Last Sunday while going to the church, I fell and there was dad walking towards me. I thought he will pick me up, and yes he did too. He pulled me up and slapped me hard on my cheeks. I couldn’t cry as there were many people around, his hand left a mark and it was still stinging when the worship started. I couldn’t stand the noise but I still stayed on to watch the guy on the guitar. Restless!! I soon slipped out of the church. I ran to the hill close to the church. I went there every Sunday, during the church service and came down before the service got over. Usually I would run around, catch dragonflies and frogs from the well. However, today I was hurt and I wanted to cry. I was angry, I felt insulted....I called dad names, cried, I even asked
Yeshu apacha to kill daddy.
I have no friends, only acquaintances. People assume that they know me, whereas I don't care. I was just fourteen madly in love with my cousin.We loved and lived happy, in our own sweet world. I thought that was it, I have my heaven and we would live happily forever...I wrote her name on my arms...We were lovers, we had names. I was possessed, there was no escape....the love still lives on, the scar refuses to fade. I still have the paper clipping it says,
'Youth attempts suicide'.
I"m dead now, I miss "
Me."