What’s wrong with me?

They kept on telling me what’s wrong with me as pulled up the blanket covers over me. Earlier I would get up and listen, and yell at them, defend myself with little whatever, which only added to my misery. I would, then, run to the bathroom and cry. I always wondered why I could never do it before them. Maybe, they are right about me being insensitive and careless. That was what I used to do, now I just put up the blanket on my face and pretend to be what they think I am; insensitive and careless. I have been like that for most of my life; I have been that even before I knew the meanings to these words. My life has always been defined by others. I have always been what they told me I am. When I was younger and insensitive, I believed it without any resistance from the inside, because I believed there was nothing inside, or because they never told me that I too have it, a soul. But as I grew up, I felt something inside me, something opposing whatever they said, something denying that I am ‘Insensitive’, something changing the meaning of my very existence.
That struggle, day in and day out only made the question even more intense; “what’s wrong with me”, I kept on wondering. I kept on oscillating between two ambiguous identities; the one they gave me and the one I struggled to find inside me. Things affected me as much as they affected them, but I couldn’t react the same ways, I couldn’t make the same choices, I couldn’t make the same impressions. I didn’t like what they liked, I didn’t like sitting with people, and I never knew the reason, I felt a burden on my heart, I felt it saddening, depressing, holding me down. I felt their eyes on me, asking or telling things I didn’t know. I didn’t like it because I was told that I am like that, insensitive and indifferent. I could never outgrow it, I have been through so much they know nothing about, my parents, my family, my friends, no one. They tell me that I am useless, and I have no purpose, they have been doing so since I was a little kid, what else could I do than to believe it and accept it?
They kept on telling me what’s wrong with me, thinking that being so insensitive, it won’t ever enter my head, but it did. I struck me hard, each time; it struck my soul, my heart, my mind. It’s intensity never going down. What’s wrong with me, that’s what they kept on telling me, and I believed each what they said. How could then I sit with people, talk to people, let them know me, let them know how insensitive, indifferent, unwanted I am? How could I talk to people without the fear of being judged, and that too wrong?
By whatever they tell me, I perceive that I am not a good person, that I am bad, that I don’t have God inside me.That is the struggle I face, I don’t feel bad, I don’t think ill of others, I don’t want troubles, I don’t want anyone to suffer, but I don’t know how to show it, I don’t know how to express it. That’s why they think I am bad because I don’t know how to show that I am not. My parents, my family, even they don’t know me, even they think that I care about none but myself, that I sleep too much, that I stay aloof, that I don’t know a thing. They don’t know a thing. I am terrified, I feel lost, I cry thinking about what’s wrong with me, I cry about thinking all the things they say to me, I struggle to be myself. I struggle to live in a world that doesn’t know me, a World I know nothing about. How am I to live then, when I am nothing they want me to be? I have given up now, I have learned to be insensitive, I am a disappointment to my family, my friends, and how am I to live then?
I don’t know how to cook, I don’t want to, I don’t like to go out, I don’t like to meet new people, I am under-confident, I lack self-respect, I am far from loving myself and I am selfish. I want to live and I won’t mind if death takes me down. For I am tired, and exhausted of not being able to be what they want me to be, I am tired and exhausted of not being able to be what I am.
What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? Everything.

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3 thoughts on “What’s wrong with me?

  1. I love the person tense, and you write it beautifully! I was drawn in to the story and the troubled mind of the character. You highlight how the world can be a pressurizing place and how the mind often struggles witj it. Great work 🙂

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