Who am I really? Eps 3
Pricilla was not the first person to complain I try too hard to please people. "You are nice to a fault," her exact words. Kate had lent some of my plates at different times and failed to return them in one piece. "Elizabeth, lend me your plate," Kate said and without waiting for my response, she was at my wardrobe moving things and helping herself to my utensils. I felt Cindy's intense gaze on me. My eyes darted in a different direction. From my side view, I saw her shake her head. I heard some movement on her bed and she was gone. I sighed inaudibly. Kate moved from end of the room to the other dragging her feet along.
I turned to take my journal where I tucked it in beside my bed. I sat up in bed and rested my back on the wall close to my bed, with my pillow behind me and my legs crossed. My closest friend had given me the journal on my 16th birthday. The cover was black and had turquoise stars drawn all over it in different sizes. On the first page, he kept a picture of us together in front of my home. A sad smile rested on my face. I wished I was at home. My left hand supported my head whilst my right hand turned the pages.
23/04/2016
Dear diary,
I cant seem to understand myself. Some days I wake up sad unable to understand the cause of the sorrow. Some days I wake up with the energy to take on my world. Some days, I want to be left alone and the next moment I am talking to everyone. Am I not a spool of contradictions? Today Pas Timothy was talking about how God wants us to be full of joy and worship. Have peace. I could not help seeing that what I had was far from peace. An endless cycle of depression.
25/04/2016
Dear diary,
Sometimes I dislike my family. They can be really insensitive sometimes, you wonder if they are trying to get rid of you. In particular, my mum and Simie. They simply speak without filters about me in the presence of anyone that cares to listen. And I hate this. When you try to point it out to them that they make you look stupid, you are the overly sensitive one. It is all your fault. Arrgh. Be right back.
Some hours later
Grandma is arriving today, we are making preparations for her. This would be the first time I would be seeing her. I wonder if they still tell stories like I have been made to believe...
"Peace be to this house," Esther said. I looked up to see her standing at the door, doing the cross sign like a prophet sent on an assignment. Kate laughed. She threw her bag on her bed as she started a story about the bus she had entered. I closed my journal. When she looked in my direction, I mouthed "welcome." I cannot tell whether she noticed, she continued her story with much vigour.
Two days later, the plates still sat on Kate's table unwashed and I was in need of them. I took a look at the insides and I knew I could not endure washing it. I left without eating breakfast. I tried explaining my predicament to Priscilla. "I have been enduring her for so long. She would use my plates and fail to wash them. Some she broke them out of carelessness." Priscilla looked at me briefly before turning back to her phone. "I feel like you are not listening or even taking me seriously," she was not saying anything and I was tired. "See Lizzie, stop being a softie," she said and that was all. I sat there looking at her, helplessness etched on my face. It was easy for her to say. I avoided confronting or correcting people, even when I was right. It left my stomach in a knot and I was always in a hurry to leave their presence.
When I got back, Cindy was the only one present. My limbs felt like they would give way under me. My muscles ached equally. I regretted joining Priscilla for her gym classes the day before. I climbed up to my bed and would have slept without a bath but for the wet sheets my skin met. Kate had been there. I noticed for the first time that the sheet was not arranged like I left it. It smelled of sweat and was slightly wet. This was not the first time. My tiredness gave way to frustration and soon self pity. I dragged myself off the bed to replace the sheets with a fresh one. I stopped at my wardrobe a while. With my head inside, I felt tears trickle down my cheeks. I was mad at myself. I could not bring myself to hate Kate. I hated myself for not speaking up. The tears turned into silent sobs. I replaced my sheets, had a cold shower and went out to grab something to eat.
To be continued...
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