"No you don't know, you have no idea how hard it is for me to share things," I shouted. I didn't want to but it was hard to contain myself after her regular poking. "Yes, I do. I know it's hard to face the past but if you want to get over it, you have to face it." She rolled her cute little theory and this is why I told her that she doesn't know. It's not about the past which had stopped me, it's about how people reacted when I told my story.
I've seen pity in their eyes, sympathy for the poor soul of me. They think I've been hurt so much that I deserve happiness. I don't want that. I've worked so hard to earn that respect but as soon as my story was in front of them, it turned into sympathy, and sympathy is for weak. I'm not a victim of hell, I am a warrior who fought his way out of hell. I deserve happiness because I earned it and not just because of my past.
"I know one thing for sure, It's time for you to go. You're not my therapist." I gestured her towards the gate. "Yes, you're right because asking for help from me would shatter your attitude, isn't it?" She was angry, who wouldn't at her place. I turned my back towards her, "absolutely correct!". She stomped out of her room, later I realized it wasn't just my room, it was my life too.
But I don't regret it. It's better to be a rude, attitude-filled man in people's eyes rather than seeing sympathy for you in them. I may be alone because of that but I'm not weak, not anymore.
Prashant Kumar Shukla | Mylines.in | dudepks