An Open Letter to the People Who Made Me

Growing up was the first thing I wanted in my childhood. And yes I did it. I grew up from a toddler to an adult. It was a ride through years, a bumpy ride with loads of memories. So, this is a letter to the people who made me a version of something I don’t like. And this letter goes to… To my brother for telling me I stutter when I’m nervous, now I cannot speak in front of a crowd. To my teacher for telling me I didn’t have the spark, I touched a socket with wet hands. To my best friend for ridiculing me, now I don’t make best friends. To my grandmother for disliking me because I’m a girl, now I think I don’t deserve love. To my mother for not appreciating my work, I’ve burnt down all my poems. To my aunt for telling me I don’t have the perfect smile, now I cover my face with my hands every time I laugh. To my step brother, now I cannot confide in any man. To my class fellows for not drinking from my cup because I don’t believe in Muhammad (S.A.W), now I don’t believe in GOD too. To my father for cheating on my mom, now I see marriage as a suffering and pain not a bond of love. To my boss for telling me I didn’t have the looks for a job, now I am a sexist devil. To my fiancĂ© for calling me fat, now I feel strange in my own body. To the boys who killed an actor in me in my first play, now I don’t dream of anything big. To my husband who didn’t became a friend, now I feel like your slave. To my daughter for yelling at me, now I am ashamed when I look at you. To everyone who destroyed the best of me. You made me who I am today. It’s not what I wanted. This mirror doesn’t reflect me, it reflects you. A wounded soul, a scratched body, a diseased mind and a broken heart is what I am, stop creating more like me. Stop.

Yours truly,

A scarred soul.

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