theguiltyandsad

[theguiltyandsad]

i can’t really remember the 9th of march anymore. i remember him giving me money to go buy ketchup, but i can’t really visualise the day too well. the memories come in fleeting images, but i cannot really decipher the sequence of events. it is just all a big blur. i remember writing a poem about hope and life, but i can’t remember the timing of my writing. i remember arguing with my mum but not too clearly. i remember asking her if i can go to the coffee shop with her and her friend, and she had said yes. i also remember her mumbling that we never give her personal space. i remember getting angry at her for saying yes and then proceeding to mumble the things she did. i remember throwing a hissy fit. i remember being scolded about my attitude by both mum and dad, but i can’t really remember the things said. all i remember is my dad threatening not to send me to lebanon for university, which really triggered some intense emotions. i remember yelling that they do not love me and emotionally support me. i’m not exactly sure of my words, but the words were similar if not that. i remember my mum saying to my dad, “your daughter thinks love is i-love-you’s. she does not see that what we do for her is love.” i remember going to the room and texting bob about it, saying the worst of the worst. i also distinctively remember my dad calling my name before my mum left to give me money to spend with her. i remember sarcastically rejecting the offer. i remember my dad entering the kitchen and opening up a can of some food, but it hurts me to say that i no longer remember what the food was. i remember him taking a nap, sleeping on his stomach. i remember not saying goodbye to him. i remember walking back home and observing the beautiful colours of the sky at around 6:18 P.M. i no longer remember if i had actually arrived at 6:18 or at 6:21 P.M. i remember ringing the bell and nobody opening. i remember thinking my dad is probably still asleep. i remember getting a call from noorbanu. i remember walking over to noorbanu’s. i remember telling noorbanu that i don’t think my dad will be present at my graduation. i remember telling her crowds and events aren’t really his thing. i remember eating dinner with noorbanu. i was feasting not knowing that my dad was dead at the time. i remember getting a call from my mother. i remember her asking me to stay out as much as i would have liked. i remember telling noorbanu that parents are so weird - one minute angry at you and one minute calm (and apparently one minute dead at the time). i remember getting a call from negar, where she invited me to go for a drive with her aunt. i remember her aunt getting a call during our drive about my father being unwell. i remember asking her if he is alive, and she said he was. she didn’t know, or maybe she did and did not want to be the one to disclose the news. i had a feeling he was dead. i remember her exact words to negar, “we are going to drive riwa home now...her dad is not okay.” i remember arriving to my street to a swarm of people. i remember seeing my uncle. i remember him lying to me and telling me my dad is okay. i remember seeing his step-son try to mouth to me the truth, and i remember seeing my uncle stop him. i remember being bombarded by crying women as soon as i step out of the elevator. i remember asking questions, and everyone telling me he is in the hospital [yeah, he was, but like in the fucking freezer, huh?]. i remember crying and screaming, demanding the truth be told to me. i remember shouting and asking everyone to not touch me. i remember my mum walking in and telling me he was dead. i remember falling apart. i remember calling my boyfriend at the time. i don’t remember how everything happened after. one minute i’m in the house, unable to breath, and the next minute i’m in the car with negar and her aunt, going to a mountainous place, where i can scream and shout. i remember negar’s aunt crying and holding me. i remember her talking to me, but i cannot remember what she said. i remember christelle texting me. i remember my phone dying. i remember getting a text that night asking if i was coming to school the next day. i remember saying, “no. my dad is dead, and i never said bye. hahaha.” something like that. i cannot remember exactly. i don’t remember the correct sequence of some minor details. i remember it being a shitty night. i cannot exactly remember how my sister took the news, but i remember that nobody gave her false hope. rena, your dad died. riwa, your dad is in the hospital. he is fine. i remember rena and i going over to negar’s, staying the night. i remember rena and i not getting any sleep. i remember march the 9th in bits and pieces, but i can safely say i remember it as the worst day of my life. i had a stupid, useless fight with my father the day he fucking died. i remember losing my dad on bad terms. i remember march the 9th as the day i lost myself entirely.

[theguiltyandsad]

I feel rather misunderstood by everyone around me. My distaste for life is growing more and more every single day that passes by, and I don’t think anyone around me is aware of the melancholia filling my heart. They all simply make it worse, and sometimes I feel like just cutting everyone off...despite how much I love them.

A compilation of mixed emotions is felt when someone I love and care about reacts in a distasteful manner, in a dry manner, in a cold manner, in a bothered manner, in an annoyed manner, and in a negative manner over all. It’s selfish of me - at least sometimes - to take it to heart. They could be having a bad day, and I do recognise that I am too much to care for sometimes. But there are times where their reaction still stings. I tell myself, “They never went through what I did. How can they fucking feel entitled to react so negatively?” I cannot truly understand why they react the way they do, and I probably need some time to “accept” that people probably never will understand the gravity of my pain, for my pain can only be understand with experience. I do not wish that experience upon anyone, of course. But I fucking hate it sometimes, and I find myself so utterly jealous that the people around me have their own shares of issues but their issues do not constitute the same gravity of my issues - they even admit it themselves.

Since 2015, I felt that anything relative to my fear of food - the thing that is deemed a simple pleasure in life - is misunderstood and hard to deal with. I had to cope with my eating disorder alone since nobody understood what it meant. My best friend tried her best, and I cannot thank her enough, but to this day, she still struggles with understanding it. Hunger cues and cravings came to her naturally; I cannot blame her. When it came to me, she did more for me than anyone.

Now that my father is dead, everything is worse. I feel numb but not quite. Does that even make sense? I live everyday normally - as I did days after his funeral - as though nothing has ever happened, but I have more anger than usual, I get easily triggered by anything, I get night terrors, I cannot really talk about him to anyone, and I try not to think about him. What’s worse is that my heart desires to talk about him, but my time has run out. He died two years ago...everyone thinks I got over it. The ones closer to me know that I have not, but they urge me to get over it by facing the issue. However, they just do not fucking understand. When they express annoyance with my emotional behaviorism, I feel like utter crap. How can one feel so entitled to tell me how to grieve and whatnot? What I despise is when I am told they understand me. No, you fucking do not. When I am told I am too much, when I am told my feelings get the best of me, when I get pitiful looks, when I am urged to pray for him, when I am told to be strong for the family, when I am told that I am CONSTANTLY THINKING OF HIM and should finally move onto the next stage of my grief, I am filled with rage. I was never given the time to grieve over him. My father died when I was in my senior year of high school, and I simply drowned myself in my studies at the time. I did not live each day thinking of him and drowning myself in tears for him. I had to focus on acing my senior year, and I even had a self-entitled shit of a person in my life who had selfish desires regarding our time together. My friends never really urged me to discuss things and rather wanted to make me “feel better” by distracting me. I love them - do not get me wrong - and I think they did what they thought was best for me. But it was not...for grieving now feels foreign and unusual. I cry randomly and suddenly, since I get triggers out of nowhere. However, I also find it difficult to cry. I yo-yo around my emotions, and I am so fucking confused. How can the ones around me feel entitled to dictate my grief? I want someone to fucking listen.