I now work at a small electronics store—twelve hours a day. I sell phones to customers… that's the job title… except I sweep the floors, wipe the windows, serve coffee, bring food to the store owner, and carry boxes from his second store, the grocery store. I carry so much that my back feels like it's going to break. I put everything back on the shelves and go back to the original store, only to be berated and abused for no reason. And my salary? I don't even think it should be called a salary… a few coins thrown at me like crumbs… and it comes drenched in humiliation and insult, as if the shop assistant enjoys my humiliation and delights in seeing my weakness…
Sometimes, I wash his car. Sometimes, I wash all the cars on the street. Not out of kindness, but because he says, "Do it or you won't get paid this month." And the money they give me? He takes it, of course. Why wouldn't he? I'm just a machine following his orders, a mere being who doesn't even allow him to feel...
And when the day goes by and my body is so exhausted that I can no longer walk, I drag myself home at a speed that might make you think a tortoise has become a horse compared to my speed... - but you'd think I'm just returning to rest, or to relieve the physical and mental fatigue I went through that day... No, I'm just there to continue feeling unwanted. The moment I step through the door, I see it in their eyes. That cold stare. That silent disappointment - as if I've spoiled their happiness with my presence. Just because I might take a spoonful... not because I want food... just to survive... as if their comfort depends on my absence. Because I burden them with the food I eat... while they bring my sister all kinds of expensive food and desserts...
I swear, even the cat eats more than me. And no one seems to care.
And yet, my little sister. The only tenderness I have left in this world. Sometimes I get angry and jealous of her, even though I know she's done nothing wrong. It's just... the way they see her—how they see her as their everything, as if she were their daughter, and I don't... but I never let it show. She doesn't deserve it. And I truly love her. I bring her the sweets she loves almost every day. I sit beside her, hugging her as if they're the only thing keeping me human. And I pray for her. I pray that her illness will go away... that she'll never see the world the way I did...
And when I finally return to my room, nothing of me remains. I lie down and try to sleep—but sleep doesn't always come. Sometimes, the weight of the day keeps my eyes open, while my heart sinks in silence. I want to sleep so badly, I'm exhausted, and the thoughts... come. Like raindrops, they scream out every truth I've tried to bury inside...
You're not loved.
You were never wanted.
You don't belong here. Or anywhere else...
I don't fight them. I let them talk. I listen to their voices until my pillow gets wet, and I feel like my chest is being torn apart from the inside.
And that's how I sleep. Every day...