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Saturday, June 28, 2014

Children of Broken Homes.

She shivered. A shudder ran down her spine and she softly murmured, "I don't want to talk to you." It was a huge task. The very sound of his voice was terrifying the insides of her soul. But she had been taught to stand up for herself now. She knew better. You had to speak against wrong, you had to stand up for what was right and most importantly you, and you alone could save yourself. Even if it was from your own father.

She wondered now when it was that all the laughter died and when the man who used to adore her changed so much. When he became a ghost of the loving human he used to be. What could have led to such cruel remarks, such harsh words. Maybe this is why she can never comprehend the point of marriage or children.

For she is the child of a broken home. And she isn't the only one.

She has seen men beating their wives and sons raising their hand on the father, torn between their two 'protectors' not knowing what to do, who to turn to. What does a child do when the people who are in-charge mess up? Whom do they turn to?

Theirs is not a country which does anything against domestic violence. Hers is not a city in which she can refer to an anger-management specialist. Ours is just a world in which you watch as the walls around you crumble, each day, at an alarmingly slow rate which ironically enough still feels too fast. 

In a home where she has had to be the adult for so long, she forgot what it meant to be taken care of. To have a stable pool of unconditional love. She never saw love, all she saw was hate. Hate between her parents, between her relatives, among her peers at school. All she ever did seek was love and that was the one thing that was denied.

She never complained for it seemed harsh. Nor did she hold it against them for she knew everyone was just battling their own demons. She thought she could be the reason behind everyone's smile. So she began to strive and continued till there was nothing left of her but a hollow in the place of a happy, little kid. No achievement was ever enough to mask the sorrow that engulfed her house. 

She would pray to god every night for her parents to stop fighting. She learnt early on that there were prices to pay because they did. They would fight over anything and everything and she would be torn between the two people she loved most. As she grew up, they found a new reason to fight over - her. This was the worst by far for it made her feel as if she had been the cause of their misery all along. She constantly felt like a failure. She wasn't good enough to make her parents happy. Or proud.

No matter what she excelled in, they would find faults in her behaviour, her conduct, whatever it took to unnerve her. She began to live in constant self-doubt and wondered if it would be better to relieve everyone of the pain that she was inflicting upon them and just end it once and for all.

However the end didn't go as planned and this too was used against her. Repeatedly she turned to someone, something to hold on to in a fragile world which kept crumbling around her. She kept trying to run away, from her past, her present... And lived in dread of the future. She changed homes, cities but she couldn't change herself. 

For she was the child of a broken home. And she wasn't the only one. 

She thought time and age would change things. That the two adults who had brought her into the world would finally start to comprehend what it actually means to be responsible for another human being. But she realized how they were too broken for her to mend. And everyday that she lived in self-blame, she broke herself too. 

For that's the thing with the children of broken homes - they feel inadequate and responsible for all that has gone wrong in their houses. 

She still smiles. She still loves. But she knows now that nothing will ever change. They will continue to love her in their twisted way and she will forever crave for the one person who is truly hers, never letting anyone getting close enough because she's scared. She's been scared since she was three. If Mom and Dad couldn't love each other, how will anybody ever love a disappointing person like her?

What parents never realize is how much every word of theirs pierces through the hearts of their children, how much it controls them and how very much it hurts them. It's ironic really that the creator is more often than not the destroyer.

She's given up now. On finding answers to all that needs answering. She waits for peace, hoping it'll find her someday. Because love is too much to ask for. She can make do with a little bit of peace for now. As for love? Maybe in another lifetime. 

Because she is the child of a broken home.
And that shall haunt her forever.
But she's not the only one.

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