Do you miss our old team?

 

The answer is, unfortunately, no.

The problem wasn’t any individual person in particular; rather it was that I didn’t feel wanted. How could I be; when all the talk was of how glorious the team was, how the good old days used to be, how lively meetings were.

There was no room for us.

I felt like that fetus that the mother had wanted to abort, but was forced to keep. The child she was forced to bear, and for the sake of societal influence, she was forced to raise. That unwanted child she had to pretend like she wanted in her house. The siblings who had to deal with her existence in their household. It mattered not if they eventually grew to accept that unwanted child. It mattered not that they discovered later that she was worth loving. They hadn’t wanted her in the first place. That was how I felt.

 

I felt how much of a struggle it was for all of you to deal with my existence there. How you tried to convince me that you were good. That all was well. The very fact that you had to point out that Brother A is really nice, Sister B is awesome, Brother C has the kindest heart; the very fact that you had to point it out instead of it being apparent, that wasn’t a good sign itself.

 

A mother is the heart of the home, and when that heart is vile and putrid, there can be no beauty in the house. A mother who falls fault to her temper, who causes pain and harm due to her poor judgements, is not worthy of my respect. She fed me and clothed me because she had to. Because if she had not, she would suffer greater pains of society’s vicious judgements.

 

Honestly, I was glad that you left. Do you understand what pain it took for a person to say she was glad to be homeless? And homeless she was, unwanted yet again without shelter as the rain poured. But you know what? Despite the grief she gulped down as she sought shelter in the dark alleys, she was still relieved to be out of that house.