Coming to the realization that I am twenty five years old and living life as it is now, is unbelievable to me. Both good and bad, but I am here to talk about the bad. All my life no one has really understood me, I accept that I am the black sheep of my family (and I have made my peace with it). No one hears me when I talk, but I know they will read. Most will judge, one or no one will reach out and some will just read and keep it moving. But I will have had my therapy session at the end of the day.
Once upon a time, there lived a girl in her palace, the palace was peaceful, quiet, clean and well organized. Every day she would wake up, go about her morning routine, and all her other day to day activities. At the end of the day, she would have that one place of comfort to come home to – her palace. One day, a young lady who had lost her way through the woods stumbled upon her palace. She took her in, gave her food, water and a comfortable bed to sleep in. Of course, she assumed all this was temporary.
To her dismay, days – weeks – months passed by, and the young lady continued to live in her palace, she ate her food, wore her clothes, made the house untidy and hardly ever lifted a finger to help with the utilities or house chores. She did not know what to do because the people in that region had already warned the young lady that she was a bad person but she was not a bad person, they just never understood her. She was not a person you could easily manipulate or bully, but she showed this young lady her best side even though from time to time she would get irritated, act distant and withdrawn, sometimes have a nasty attitude. Her patience was running thin.
What would you have done if you were in her shoes? If the place that you knew to be your home or place of comfort was turned into something else as you watched, just because you are trying to be sympathetic with another person. Would it still be home to you? Though I understand that in African culture, everything is communal, even sins are communal,…. So for me to complain about this might be abominable, my ancestors might even be asking themselves right now, “Whom does this Atim think she is? We endured worse in our times,” (shaking their heads from above as they looked down at me).
But this is creating a black hole in my heart, a hole filled with hate and I slowly feel it growing with each passing day. I want to be good, I want to get along and I want the best for the other party. But it does not help when the person shows no form of gratitude and has a bad attitude from time to time. That person might have lost a lot and be going through a hard time, but has she stopped to think about the impact her situation has had on my life?
I just want what is mine back, I just want someone to think of me too. I feel so invisible right now, like I am gasping for air but I am being swallowed up by the ocean and no one even notices. I feel like I had a box, that was enough for one person, someone else lost their box, and I offered mine (temporarily). Now I am never going to have my box back, and I have to find my bearings elsewhere.