I had a unique stutter.
It only popped up when I was hurt and angry and it just made things worse- like it did right now.
"You can't… you… you…" I groaned and wiped my nose. I was sharing my feelings with my parents but unlike how I imagined it to be, it was turning out badly.
I planned it all in my head.
I thought through everything I wanted to say, everything they said that caused me pain. I had it all figured out. Or so I thought.
I had marched into the room and demanded their attention, ready to pour out my heart but it didn't happen.
Instead, what was poured were my tears and the only words that came out of my mouth were stammered.
I took a deep breath and tried again. "I don't like how…"
You would think that it was the need for good communication that made me decide to do it. But it isn't.
It was pain.
Terrible pain.
It was the kind that lit a fire in my heart and caused it to burn. It was the kind of pain that replayed the scene that hurt me. It pushed me to speak up and now I was regretting it.
Snot leaked from my nose and I made no effort to stop it. I was too busy burning from humiliation to care.
I stared at their faces, and tears sprung up in my eyes.
Their eyes were light. Their teeth shone and chuckles escaped their lips.
I gritted my teeth and wiped my eyes.
It was terrible.
I was trying to explain my feelings but they just laughed at me.
They laughed at it.
"Is it because of that small thing? Is that why you're crying?" My mother laughed. I shook my head and ran out of the room with my head down.
I was enraged.
It wasn't my fault that little things, in quote, were the things that made me cry. I couldn't control my feelings to that extent.
I ran downstairs and hid myself in a corner. I sat there and cried my eyes out. I felt my heart burn and my nose was filled with snot.
It was in that place I made a decision I carried for a long time.
I made up my mind to never stutter again. I knew that it was only triggered when I was angry or hurt and trying to explain myself so I decided to shut up instead.
I decided that whenever I got hurt I'd just hide away till I felt better. I decided to bottle up my hurt and lock up the memories that caused it.
It was a very unhealthy decision.
It was an insane one.
But at that time I wasn't thinking straight. I was thinking but a few screws were loose.
I pulled my head and shook it. "It's my fault. I was dumb."
The voice in my head agreed. Together we criticized me and swore never to speak up about things.
"Just shut up. Your life will be better if you shut up." I told myself.
I sat there and let the pain take charge of my mind. The memories played in my eyes, and together with the voice in my head they dug up past hurts. Things that hurt me that had nothing to do with the current situation. They reminded me of people I thought I'd forgotten and worsened the hurt.
By the time they were done, I was exhausted. My eyes were swollen from crying for long and I was sniffing every two seconds.
I stood up, hung my head and walked back upstairs. I had tortured myself to the full extent of the pain, and contrary to what you might think, I felt better- or rather empty.
I wasn't hurting, the memories were wiped and stuffed in the box where they belong and I just wanted to sleep and so I did.
It's been years since it's happened and I've consciously made an effort to forgive my parents.
They weren't the best but they weren't the worst either.
I chose to forgive them because the anger only hurt me. The memories only torture me. They might not even remember so why am I still holding a grudge?
I've carried weight in my heart and I can tell you that it sucks. It's terrible.
People can hurt you, but I'll tell you this for free, my behaviour - the one I mentioned earlier shouldn't be imitated.
Do not try it at home, or anywhere else really.
Sorry for the late entry, life has really been hard on me this week.
Here's my entry to the inkwell Fiction prompt week #137