2020 was a YEAR with many bad moods. EACH and EVERY minute had an awful news. LAKHS of people met to DEATH. And many SUFFERED on the the hospital beds. Faces SEEMED HAPPY, but HEARTS were FILLED WITH PAIN. MENTAL HEALTH of each one was NOT so good, People were STRUGGLING for EVERY BITE OF FOOD. EFFORTS were completely going in VANE. The brains worked good but MINDS WERE DEPRESSED. Days PASSED SOMEHOW, with many FEARS. It was difficult in NIGHT to CONTROL THE TEARS. The PANDEMIC definitely had a negative EFFECT, But it also HIT POSITIVELY in Variety of WAYS. It was KINDA TOUGH, but THERE WERE SILVER LININGS. Out of covid-19, THEIR CAME MANY CREATIVITIES, QUARANTINE GIFTED us the bonus TIME with our FAMILIES. RESTRICTIONS taught us to be HAPPY WITHOUT LUXURIES. We introduced OURSELVES to our OWN CAPABILITIES. So, The moving on MANTRA should be to JUST POSITIVELY ACCEPT, And at the end of the year, we'll have MANY REASONS TO CELEBRATE!!
YES, the year was a little tough for EVERYONE, But if we FOCUS ON THE GOOD... It was NOT THE WORST.
They won't believe it.No, they won't. Maybe they won't even listen to me. But why should I be surprised? Who would believe such a story? None, I think. And, even if they will believe it, who would help me? Again, no one.
Nobody wants to listen to me, nobody wants to listen to me. They all look at me with conspicuous arrogance and with a modicum of surprise. As if it were so strange for a man to suffer violence. As if it were so strange to see a man asking for help.They won't believe me, period.
No, and maybe they'll laugh at me too. Because after all, a man who cries, who begs for mercy, makes you laugh, right? Maybe he even turns up his nose. Why should I be the strong one, the massive one who represses tears and mistreats women and children. Yet it did not go that way. In no way. It has always been her.
She with her insults about me, about my character, about my physique. She with the constant attacks for the weight, with the humiliations in front of relatives and friends. Always her, always and only her. But no, they won't believe me. I don't even need to go into the police station. I hear their laughter already from there. I feel the satisfied look of the judge who, after not believing me, points to me as a liar and violent, before entrusting my children to her.
I hear jokes from my colleagues in the distance saying I should be ashamed. Yes, because being a man I would have had to enforce myself, I would have had to impose myself. Their future laughter almost hurts more than the crying I try to hold back. No, they won't believe me.
Yet it is all true. The scars are real, even if they are not seen. The suffering is true, the agony, the pain is true, even if no one will believe me. They wouldn't have done it if I had had scars, let alone without. I have no marks on my skin, I have no bruises on my face, I have no wounds on my arms. No, the only wounds I bear will remain forever only inside me, inside my heart, around my soul.
Because my scars are not seen. Nobody will ever see them. Me neither. Nobody will touch them. Nobody will heal them. I will never be able to show them, Never. Yet, even if they are not seen, they still burn.