I don’t know why I am writing this
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There’s a thing about being parentless. I didn’t use the word “orphan” because I resent it with all my being! okay, now, being parentless can be tiring. I’m not talking about the depression you dwell in or the resentment towards God, but about people around you.
There will be two types of people, the ones that leave denying your existence, I love them really, I mean it’s better that way, right? At least better than people who feel pity and obligated to help you. These people tire me to no end.
The other day, my coffee machine broke and I was this “helpless parentless 23 years old KID.” And there comes my saviour! I mean, I’m grateful, I really am. But it’s the dialogue that follows that irks me. “Hey Rach, did you tell Rhea that we fixed it?”
Your concern chokes me. Concern that comes with a cost, cost of gratitude. The fact is I appreciate all your concern but I can’t show it on my face cuz I’m not “you” who can openly express.
And another thing about being parentless is, you forget what love is, you know. Because all you see is love that comes with a cost. You forget what it is to be trusted. Cuz now, I mean when you are parentless, people suspect you, suspect your intentions, see you in a different light, in light of “orphan”
Sometimes, you feel like or should I say “you feel nothing?” Nothing but pain. You forget all those times when you are not parentless. Memories of them are just flashes that only stab you deeper at the end. And you are sick enough to wait for those flashes, for those nightmares, just because you get to see them..