"My name was XYZ. Yeah, it was. I was alive a few seconds ago. I jumped off from the building I used to work at. Ending my suffering. Now, even though it hurts a bit. It relieves me of the pain I've been suffering from all this time."
"What are these?
Are these my memories?
They….. Are….. Going backwards.
Maybe. People say that one's life flashes before their eyes after they die. Maybe these are those things. I don't want to see but there are a few things that I want to see again. A certain someone who made my miserable life tolerable.
Is that me?
He's so small.
How old was I?
5?
What are those bruises?
My left hand….. It's.... Bleeding.
As far as I can remember my childhood. I can never forget how badly I was beaten up by my mother just because I broke a glass cup.
Was that expensive?
No.
For that time?
I don't know.
She didn't try to notice or maybe ignore my bleeding hands. I was scared that if I told her I was injured she might get angrier.
My mother always told me that I was nothing but a burden to her, and she wished I didn't exist.
What was that?
Where am I?
Is it my school?
That's me?
How did I get so big?
Is that my 12-year-old self?
I remember one of the major incidents which led me to my miseries.
You asked what happened.
The bullies.
Did I do something to them?
No.
Did they hate me?
No.
They didn't even know I existed until I tripped myself and fell in front of them. Showing I was weak. Since then I had become one of their daily toys to play with.
Why didn't I fight back? You ask?
I was not only physically weak but mentally too. I thought if my mother or father any of them finds out that I was involved in a fight. I will be in trouble.
I didn't dare to fight back.
From that day on, I was beaten up regularly both at home and school. I had no friends as my family never let me go out.
The only place I felt was safer was in my tuition. Where was the only friend I had at that time?
Was he from the same school?
No, he was not.
He was from a different school. He was kind, calm and friendly. Not like others he felt like he was trying to be something. Something he can't be. An average teen kid. He was mature. We were of the same age but he felt like an older brother.
Why am I explaining this?
He was everything I had. No matter how many individuals I've met no one was like him.
Where am I?
Why am I standing there?
Is it that day?
The day I wanted everything to end. I was standing at the centre of the road hoping to die. My friend, who unfortunately saw me that day, pushed me right before that truck was about to hit me.
He died.
He was lying on the ground. I looked at his dead body with envious eyes. I was jealous and angry. He stole my peace.
I found out later that he was just like me. Victim of domestic violence, bullying, and an outcast. We shared a similar background, yet he was determined and tried to live up to people's expectations, unlike me, who had given up on everything.
Who's she?
Why is she in front of me?
In class 10. A girl confessed to me. I thought I was not worthy of anyone's love, and I became uninterested in romantic relationships. I didn't want to hurt her maybe she did love me. She was my first girlfriend. For the first time in a while, I made efforts. To make her happy. To not regret choosing me. In the end, I was right. She left me with no reason. No words. I somewhat expected this to happen, but after being with her for almost a year, I started hoping that it could last longer. A bit longer.