Finding the Abandoned

It pains me to write this post. Consider it a substitute for crying out loud.

It is a terrible thing to be going through the feelings of being abandoned, abandoned by your own parents.

It is terrible to know they don’t cook dinner for you anymore, don’t allow your flip-flops to be left anywhere but your room, who call you only to know how long you would take to reach home, so that, you know, the neighbours don’t “talk”.

When I was growing up, they ill-treated me perhaps because they could hate the person I would grow up into. Or, it is their unreal expectations from a kid who was a witness to domestic violence.

Whatever the reason be, few things are certain about them:

They are blind. They’ve been blinded by the blurred visions they have of their lives, and which prevent them from seeing anything beyond. They have hopelessly failed to understand the miserable person they have created over the years.

Repairable or not, I’ve decided to stand up for myself, speak up, and gain the self worth I rightfully deserve. They no longer have the right to punish me for their mistakes and shortcomings. I owe it to myself.


2 thoughts on “Finding the Abandoned

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