I’m drowning in my own tears. Can I let my self choke to death?
Memories are tricky. The more I try to remember something the more it gets lost in the past. On the other hand, there are events that will keep burning in my mind. I live them over and over again until I’m not even sure they are real or not anymore, except I cannot forget them for crying out loud. They might be embarrassing situations or really guilty feelings. I take blame and never forgive myself.
We live everyone in our own little worlds. We are taught how to act and behave from our parents and mostly our experiences. I never grasped the art of living. When you’re a child it’s unthinkable that other people might live differently than you, cause what you have is everything you know about. Your life might seem the norm and only when putting yourself in the world, would you come to know about the differences.
My story starts at elementary school. I was 8 and because of my parents’ work we were to move to another city. I still remember that day. I went to school to say good bye to my friends, the ones I never felt different with. It was school day and I hadn’t attended the lessons, when I arrived with mom and dad, they were all in class. I knew I was leaving and tears were soon to fall from my eyes. I stopped myself as we opened the door and as I announced them my departure, they all started crying. To this day, I don’t think I ever felt and ever will feel that cared for. I was not able to show them how much I cared and cherished them in return and that’s one big regret of mine.
We moved once more before setting in. I was to start 5th grade in a new school. But that’s barely the point. My parents had acquired a restaurant and I would go there from times to times. Mostly to eat anyways. As I grew older I spent more and more time there.
I don’t remember if I was 9 or 10 because time is tricky. My dad had asked me to get something from the storage in the basement and I, as an obbidient child, had willingly done so. The moment I had retrieved what was asked, the light turned off and the cook, who was 40/50, came inside the room. I was about to leave as he called me back and asked for help, he said – are these canned tomatoes? – pointing at something in the shelves. It struck me as weird as he was the one who turned off the light but I went back inside anyways, because I was naive and dumb, if I had to reason now that I’m older. I told him – I don’t know – still being doubtful. That’s when he came from behind and surrounded me with his arms and started touching me. I don’t know how long it was, because time is tricky indeed. I remember trying to free myself and saying – I’m busy, I have things to do – and finally being able to run upstairs.
I was naive. I knew it was wrong and I didn’t tell anyone. Not that day, not now. There have been plenty of times I had wanted to confess, to seek for help. I wanted to tell my mom and have him punished but as I was to say those words, nothing ever came out. Other workers were saying the cook was a pedophile, I don’t know if they were joking or if they knew, but I agreed and my brother asked – how do you know? – I couldn’t bring myself to say those words. I was afraid and ashamed. But why was I feeling ashamed? I was the one being wronged. I had never been able to say those words and they still haunt me years later. What was it anyways? Rape? Harassment? Abuse?
Because I said nothing, no one knew and nothing happened. I had to see him and interact with him everyday. I always tried my best to act like nothing happened, because I knew what he did was really wrong.
He had family, a little girl. She would come at the restaurant every now and then and I always wondered if he would do those things to her too. Was it some sick jealousy? I had hoped it happened to her and envied in some ways too. It was sick, whatever way you thought about it.
At 19teen I finally was able to move and work somewhere else and he finally left the restaurant too.
One day, when I was visiting my parents, he was also. Hah, such a humorous prick timing is. He comes to me and says – can you help me find job somewhere over your city, cause as you know I’m getting unemployed state helping money and I need a job far from home and without contract – . How dares he ask me for help? After all he has done to me? I was angry, disgusted. And yet, disappointed. Did he forget what he did? Was it not important to him? He ruined my life, he ruined me forever. I’m broken and that’s his fault. Did he forget? I’m nothing to him and I’m dead now.
It’s all so sickening and disturbing. These feelings of mine.
Whenever I’m alone with a man and he gets too close to me, I get anxious and panic. I hate men touching me and when it happens my body move on its own, father as possible.
The person I am now. Is it all because of that day? Would I still be the same broken person if nothing happened? Would I be happier now?
As 15 years have passed, that’s what bothers me the most. Who would I be now in a different and better world?
These are the words I had wanted to say out loud ever since. These are details I keep reviving. This is my secret and as soon as it becomes phrases and reach another person, it becomes real.