“How long would you pretend that you’re okay?” I ask myself standing in front of the mirror for at least third time in a row this week. Then I just fake a smile in the mirror. My keep practicing that fake smile for half an hour and then went to bed to shed the tears build up inside her. My pillows must despise me for I keep flooding them every night but aren’t they the only dear friend I have. The river kept flowing until the feeling of being soaked surpasses. And still I wake at 5 in the morning and I try to hide all the swells in my eyes with a bit of mascara and concealer. Fake smile in the mirror and I’m ready for another day at university.
Suffering. What a word. You never know the extent of this word until you’re being grinded by someone. Until you feel every particle being crushed. Till you feel every emotion being rugged away from you. That’s when you know suffering and the salt to your suffering wounds is the smile you adorn. Smile you have to pretend. That smile or laugh pierce you inside. Because only you know how much that smile is causing every particle of yours to suffer. But like a good actor you keep going, you keep pretending everything is okay, that you’re not dying on the inside and like this every day goes on and on. The waves thrush the shore every single day but you keep those waves bottled up. You don’t let the waves squash you.
Because tears are known for weakness and you can’t be weak you are a strong human even when nothing is okay. Your pillow is laced with tears in the morning; you put on an extra coat of makeup in the morning to hide the swell in your eyes and adorn a smile again because you’re an Oscar winning actor at pretending things are good. You sit in your way to university thinking about all the wrong things and a tear slide down your cheek but you just prefer going to sleep because crying is for the weak ones and you’re the strongest being.
There are few people who might have seen you cry because your façade is always up. You are never the one to trust anyone enough to cry with. But this pretending of being okay just slumps the shoulders and one day you’re not ready to leave the bed because the tears haven’t dried yet.
The day in university is a grind mill for you like always. You take classes, go to library, study and avoid as many people as you can. I cannot pin point what led me here to the point where I’m sitting in the back of the empty library and crying. I am not that weak I say to myself but then why am I here alone and shuddered?
Is it because the girl I trusted as a friend turned to be a snake? Or is it because her new group of friends makes me feel insecure? Or is it because she plays the victim card and gets all the sympathy albeit you’re the one who is been hurt and who is being stabbed again and again.
Or is it because you’re tired so tired that you feel like giving up. You cry and don’t even have the courage to face the class so you skip the class, pretending you lost track of time in library. Then it’s time to go home and you go washroom before going home. University life is hard and people around the world and websites fail to tell you how harsh the university life is. You only hear the stories about finding good people in university but you never hear how hard it is to cope with everything that happens there.
I for instance never went to university in intention to make friends or anything I merely had the thoughts that I’ll study. But when I spent a week there I realized how wrong I was for thinking I could survive alone. Maybe it’s just me but I felt like in this huge and enormous university I’m so small and alone and it scared me at times. When I finally made a friend and being honest I don’t know how I manage to do that. But at certain times she made me realize that we weren’t meant to be together we were just passing time. It’s because our religious differences would sometimes turn us against each other and then for weeks I’ll try to keep boundaries and spaces between us.
Maybe I’m exaggerating but I’m just narrating what I’ve felt for someone out there who might be feeling the same. I kept myself in the admission office away from the world because I hate how people see, how their eyes scan my character and how they analyze my body just by looking at my clothes. Sometimes thinking about these men who scan my identity with their shameless eyes I plan to buy a burqa for myself. But then I see those burqa clad suffering from the same harassment so I cheer up.
Life is hard it was never meant to be easy and when the people you trust turn their back on you and bite you like snakes you stay on the ground filled with the poison of their sting. You keep crying for help so until the poison spreads to every single part of yours. It keeps spreading and spreading until someone takes away the sting and cover your wounded body in their arms.
My mother has been my cure for all bitterness the world stung me with. You hug your mother and let it all out. People might come and go and try to dismantle you but that hug of your mother will always be the cure for everything. I suffered a lot but now I know one thing that family sticks by your side. They’ll be your backbone and support you and even if you’re not ready to tell them your afflictions they’ll keep you warm in a hug, in their arms enveloped until you’re ready to let it go. They might pretend to ignore your swollen eyes but they are the only one who will nourish you enough to fill those swollen eyes depths with sparkles of felicity.
I’m not proclaiming that things would just turn out okay but at least with family by side even if your façade drops you know its okay to show your scars. They are just here to treat the wounds people have given.