Bleeding Scars: My reality unraveled

Photo by Matilda Vistbacka on Unsplash

Perhaps, not all stories end happily after a long struggle as foretold…

Like a book with several characters and new contrasting roles, life reveals different phases from a similar perspective. Starting a new journey in life exposes your inner mind to endless risk and forbearing agony. For others, a night sleep is a form of sweet relaxation mixed with fruitful benefits; excluding mine. It was an escape from reality into a closed space where I could envision my thoughts freely without judgmental disapproval. The only route to hide from my miserable existence.

Waking up was a nightmare – a sad refraction from destiny.

Every moment uncovered a promising path that shrunk away
too quickly, baring my wounds to cold currents that burned
deep into my bones.

Believe me! I tried to hold on, I tried to fight, but sadness was all I understood.

Alas! I gave in… a happy life was never part of my fate. I remained a stranger to my own flesh.

My unending beginning…

Growing up, I struggled with validation from my dad, and the constant need to meet up with set standards in all areas of my life. The pressures had a toxic and significant influence on my general peacefulness.

Even the fake smiles in my photographs couldn’t shield the misery. As a young child, I found myself overthinking minor situations which burdened me deeply. I recall the constant bickering over my life choices, including my school grades, the type of job I settle for, and even my life partner.

Slowly, the remorse and humiliation from not satisfying my dad’s expectations consumed me and I gave in to them year after year, till I met my final doom.

The journey within

After my college degree in 2012, the pressure from my family seemed to have drastically subdued overtime. No more constant altercations and reproachful comments. So i decided to do something new. A few years passed and my new dream began to eventuate. Until my sister’s death...

26th June 2015…

Strolling naively through the streets to my twin’s apartment, blissfully oblivious to what lay ahead. As i got closer, I noticed people littered beside her lawn with sullen looks. Puzzled, I ran in. That’s when I saw her. Unconscious. Her face missed its usual vibrant shade and her body appeared thinner than normal. I eyed her lifeless body still partly covered in white sheets. My heart drowned. Flashbacks of all the moments we shared flickered through my mind...

Photo by Eyasu Etsub on Unsplash

Unfortunately, I never tamed this phase, but I learned to live through the sorrow. I no longer desired happiness, self satisfaction, or independence. My initial drive suddenly vanished, and now I just wanted to stay alive for my mom. I took each day as another new beginning away from my heart-wrenching past.

Expressing this agony in words is far-fetched because it isn't sadness - it has no meaning. There are internal bruises that aren't visible, but are deep-rooted and intensely detrimental, beyond any physical wound.

The emptiness felt like being terrified, agitated, and drained all at once. It is treasuring many things, then cherishing nothing. It is feeling paralyzed and numb while doing the things you love.

I spent two months mourning her death. All i wanted was to cry my eyes out till they burned, but the pain could never be taped into teardrops.

I replayed my last moments with her in my head and battled a continuous combat with my thoughts.

The beautiful melodies of the Eurasian wrens no longer consoled or gladdened by usual torn moods. However, my long agony only intensified when my father broke the news of my sudden engagement to the devil my sister was betrothed to, as a business alliance.

Naturally, I would protest and scream, but I gave in. I couldn’t continue fighting.

I looked over the counter and stared at my beastly husband, and I immediately understood everything.

The depression lingers...




African (ghostwriter) with a unique writing flow| Sad genres| "short captivating storylines"

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African (ghostwriter) with a unique writing flow| Sad genres| "short captivating storylines"

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