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Chronicles of a workaholic

 

At 9 years of age: 

Ofcourse, Mrinalini, you don’t have to deal with my disgusting self. I will be in my shell. You don’t have to go through this because of me. I can make myself small. I can stay away Mrinalini. Don’t worry about me. I’m not going to be an inconvenience. 


[She’s right. I don’t need to take up space. I am annoying for her.]


But maybe I could quietly have strong achievements, and maybe you’d like me more then. I wouldn’t chase you. I wouldn’t impose myself upon you. I would just make myself worthy of your attention. Maybe you would like me better if I had a better handwriting, like yours. Maybe you’d like me if I had better grades. Maybe you would show me some attention. And not be disgusted by me. 


We could have fun. Maybe? I could make you laugh. I could praise you. Maybe get you food from home. Maybe I could write your class notes if you need me to. Or I can cover for you with the teachers, or your parents, if you need me to. I could, you know, do all this. All you’ll have to do is allow me to. I would do all this for you.


Maybe you’d tolerate me more then? 


At 22


I could write poems on your name. I could save for us. Invest for us. Figure out finances. Pay your loan off. I could go to therapy. Learn about emotional intelligence. I could learn how to talk to you when you’re triggered. Maybe I could learn how to get you to talk more. Or to read between your silences. I would understand you better than anyone else. Maybe you’d see my worth then. Maybe you’d see my loyalty. And how consistent I am in my love for you. Maybe you’d love me then. 


And I’d achieve and achieve. And do and do. I’m more lovable when I have everything together, right? When I’m doing it all right, you’ll love me then, right? 


When there is nothing you can find disgusting about me. You’d love me then, right? 


Right? 


Well no. It doesn’t work that way. They didn’t care about me. They didn’t even see me. 


Well, everyone loves at the capacity of love they’re able to give. 


And that depends on the love they’ve received.


Well, we don’t know for certain. 


Yeah, we don’t know. 


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  The place you once called home is now a stranger place than the outside world. And you’re wondering what went wrong; what changed that you’re having to wager so much trying to be sane. This is getting difficult, there’s no way out. But there’s a voice telling me what you want to hear. And I bring forth kindness and love, comfort food and soup that we’ll reheat and share. I’ll tell you stories of times before that I’ve heard from someone else. There’s something holding you down, but you don’t want to go there. And I’ll hold you and tell you, there’s nothing else you need to do but stay. We’ll solve puzzles together and I’ll make you hot tea or coffee. We’ll sit outside and stare at gardens, till the end of daylight. Times have been difficult and being strong isn’t easy. You’ve found ways to survive but we’re meant for more than just breathing. All essentials taken care of, what would you like more of? A while we play, and sing. A while we listen to some music. But alas I leave, ...