Okay no. Who am I kidding, I’m an Indian teenager- of course I don’t know a girl named Stephanie.
No. I’m not THAT Indian.
Greetings, I hope you’re having a great day. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let’s get right to it. I am writing this to you in an attempt to release some pent-up feelings and thoughts without having to experience with the inevitable judgement that will arise from doing so. I know you understand. So bear with me, if only for a couple of minutes.
The issue started a couple of days ago. I was holding a bottle of juice in my hand- a glass one- and sipping it slowly whilst I was on the terrace one evening reading a book, trying to beat the heat. At some point, my grip faltered, and the bottle fell and shattered into a couple of shards of glass. In my haste to clear the mess up, one of the shards sliced open my skin near my ankles, leaving a cut pretty deep. My ankle was throbbing and the pool of blood near my legs seemed to be growing but… I savored the pain. Every wince as I tried to walk was somehow mixed with a sense of relief. And the tears on my cheeks weren’t completely because of the little mishap.
Now, before you jump to conclusions let me tell you that I am not a masochist, and I do not enjoy inflicting pain upon myself, and have never attempted to do so, in case you were wondering. I have however, been hurt immensely over the past few years, not physically but emotionally and mentally. And somewhere along the line I lost my ability to trust anyone, regardless of who they are- my best friend or a complete stranger. But maybe we’ll tackle that in another letter.
I know it’s absolutely ludicrous, but here’s why I think I felt that way. I do hope you’ve got something better though.
I am tired of being put through emotional ordeals over and over again, each one worse than the last. And I am tired of crying and sobbing about it all alone, only to slap on a wide smile later lest anyone knows. Through this process, I began to question whether my suffering really was real, and whether I was just making a mountain out of a molehill. So when I got cut, I felt like I finally had a “real” reason to unleash the pain festering inside of me. It was a relief to allow myself to feel the pain freely, almost like opening dam gates. And if anyone did see me now, I’d have a “valid” reason to be sobbing.
Also, bear in mind that I am no angel. I have hurt people numerous times before, and it haunts me every single day. So this was also a slightly morbid way for me to face karma, to pay.
~ now I must venture further, into this shrine of pain ~
Oh the irony, using pain to relieve pain.
You might be wondering why I am inviting you, a complete stranger, to look at the darkest parts of me. Well as I said earlier, to get some of this off my chest. And also for the fact that I have nothing to lose. You can understand, listen, judge or ignore me, either way you are nothing more than a stranger, which is why you are the most valuable thing to me and at the same time, the most worthless.
And on that note, I’d like to leave and let ourselves mull this over.
Until next time.