I’m still healing // Eman Khalid
They say, whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. I say, whatever doesn’t kill you, only makes you number and more vulnerable. So the next time you feel pain, it would be ten times worse than the last time you felt it. They say, time heals all wounds. Time is merely a contributing factor in making you a mature person than you already are and as you mature, you realize your wounds don’t hurt as much as they used to. They haven’t healed, but with time, you’ll realize that they weren’t as important as you thought they were. Time only makes you realize your worth and what you are truly deserving of.
The next time you go to bed and close your eyes, the memories would play in your head like a movie. The ghosts of your past come to haunt you every night. You open your eyes and a fat roll of tear streams down your cheeks. You wipe it off with the back of your hand and try to shut down the voices in your head. Silently praying for sleep to come and drift you away in a land where there is nothing but happiness and not dismay. But the more you think about it, the more the flashbacks and the memories feel real.
I wish I was as happy as they are, you whisper.
That night, you don’t go to sleep. You toss and turn in your bed unable to get rid of the uneasiness and the stress that you feel. And it’s at that moment you find yourself praying to God, for something to cure that broken and wounded heart of yours. You are not a weak person and you definitely do not need another human being to complete you. But some nights have gotten too familiar and too lonely. So you sit by the window side admiring the rain on a Friday night all by yourself wondering where you went wrong in life. You’d love to experience that feeling of love again. But you are scared. People have disappointed you far too many times for you to trust anybody ever again. You find solace in your own company. You find warmth in your own embrace. And there’s nothing wrong in that.
Let me tell you the story of my life. I was once a sixteen-year-old girl who believed that people were who they pretended to be. I once believed that they meant exactly what they said and all of them had a heart like mine. A heart made of glass. No one ever told me that heart like mine was rare to find in a world we live in. And when people find out how vulnerable and naive you really are, they try their best to use you, abuse you and then break you. A heart made of glass can never be fixed again. I wish someone would’ve told me how people would find pleasure in hurting you and how them hearing us cry does not mean they care, it simply means that they enjoy putting up this little act of sympathy. People will hurt you and act like you’ve hurt them, this is emotional abuse, I wish someone would’ve told me that, I wish.
I wish I knew back then what I know now.
I was humiliated in the name of love.
I was teased and shoved away like I meant nothing.
I was called garbage since I was twelve years old.
I was an outcast, always have been.
I was betrayed in the name of trust.
I was cheated on in the name of loyalty.
I was back-stabbed in the name of friendship
I was abandoned in the darkness alone to suffer for the so-called promises of “forever” and “till death do us part”
And when I tell the story of my life to someone I know, they call me crazy.
If someone tells me about what love is and how it is supposed to be like, I look them in the eye and tell them that love is not having multiple affairs behind your wife’s back only to come home past midnight smelling like your mistress’s perfume and when she dares ask you where you’ve been all night, you slap her across her red tainted cheeks making her fall on the floor. You glare at her as she sobs, you scream at the top of your lungs for her to remember her place because she’s just a woman and believe me when I tell you this, love isn’t how the movies portray it or the novels visualize it, if you wanted to know the true meaning of love look back decades ago when there were no smartphones and people would not leave their partners for a stranger they met on Instagram. Honey, the world didn’t work like that. Nobody spoke to each other for months yet they remained committed to that one man and woman and here we are, living in a fast world where everything is at your fingertips from partners to pornography to love letter to finding soulmates. I tell them all this, turn my head around and walk the other way.
People never fail to disappoint me.
The world and its people,
they tire me.
I rose up from everything that was meant to destroy me. But there are days when the ache in my heart gets too heavy to carry so I pour down my feelings unto the pages of my diary, bleeding metaphors and words. People might call me absurd, unrealistic or delusional but that’s the only thing I know how to do right. That’s the only thing that cures me. I find solace in creating words that no one might read. People might never come across those thousands of pages that are hidden in the basement of my house. But I still write, so that maybe one day, this pain that I feel would not look as bad as it really is. I write, so that perhaps one day five years from now, I’d read the words that I wrote when I was at the lowest point in my life and smile at the woman that I’ve become. I want to be able to look at the ones who’ve hurt me in the eyes one day and tell them;
“I’m not the words you’ve spoken about me, nor am I the things you’ve accused me of. I may be broken, I may have committed some mistakes but I’ve accepted them and learned from them. I grew from everything that was supposed to tear me down. Whenever I think about you now, I don’t ache like I used to. I’ve outgrown the addiction of you and with time I realized, it was not loved that kept me from letting you go. It was the fear that I might end up alone. But guess what? I don’t fear to be alone anymore. I’ve started loving myself. If you hadn’t betrayed me or hurt me the way that you did, I wouldn’t be where I am right now so, thank you.
Perhaps maybe one day I’d be able to tell all of this to them but today is not that day. I’m not ready yet.
I’m still learning,
I’m still healing.
I’m still healing // Eman Khalid