The thing about being a victim is that you blame yourself even before society does. Every tear is a reminder of what should’ve been, and sometimes, you choose not to cry or even think about it just so you could take a break from the guilt that’s eating you up. But then, hurting isn’t a chore you choose when or how to do, and it isn’t an exam you prepare for. It just hits you. Sometimes, you’re in the comfort of your room, where you can cry and muffle your screams with your pillow. Sometimes, it hits when you’re having brunch or ice cream with your friends, leaving a souvenir of panic attack. Your friends will then question your sanity. Sometimes you’re sleeping. It makes an appearance like the ‘daymares’ you’re having isn’t terrible enough. You hear their voice everywhere you go, and their cologne always finds its way to your nostrils.
You make peace with the fact that you’re messed up and now focus on hiding it behind a mask. You smile every time, laugh at dry jokes, and give hugs like it healed you and you want to heal someone too. You ask the questions you want to be asked, and when they cry on your shoulders, you cry with them. Sometimes, even harder. You cried with a friend once, and she said seeing you cry like it was your pain too, made her feel better. Little does she know that you weren’t crying for her. You spend all day trying to fit in, and then at night, you remove your mask and keep it under your bed for the demons to polish, and you crawl back into the arms of your anxiety.
They say the first step to healing is talking about it, and you can go to any extent to release yourself self from the shackles of this trauma so you try. You tell three people the story, like it’s not yours. You blame the victim together and cry afterwards. You write about it, and every time, you realise that there’s no one deserving to read so you burn it. You stop trying, and this is probably why you haven’t healed since you couldn’t pass the first stage. Or maybe your way of healing is different.
But the thing is, you don’t want to reach out anymore because you never grab the right audience. Maybe this time around, you want to be looked in the eye and told, “I see you.” Maybe you need a call at 2:00 a.m. and asked,”How are you really?” When your anxiety is making love to you. You need to be seen beyond this mask and a break from this possessive lover.
There are times when it feels like you’ve healed, or rather, you are healing. There are days you go out unmasked, and you genuinely smile. You even forget for a while before the wave comes, and you’re back to square one. You then realise you never healed. So now, you don’t try anymore because you’re clueless and lost. Nothing seems to work for you so all you do is lay on your prayer mat after every sallah and mutter “Allah heal me.”
Coffee with Bibtie 