Prompted by today’s Daily Prompt
There’s one person, I suppose, who I wouldn’t want to read my blog. Not because I have anything written against him in particular, not because I am banned from blogging. Because I am too scared to disappoint. I feel like I’ve grown up all this time being a disappointment. My writing has been my only friend, along with singing and the occasional video-making. But apart from that, this blog and a collection of stories and poetry is all I have. And if they are belittled as well, I might just shatter into tiny fragments that cannot be found and glued back together again.
He’s known me all my life, and so technically, he ought to know me inside out. Wrong. He doesn’t. We’re always near each other, yet so distant and I can safely say, it’s not for lack of trying on my part. He is my first love, my first king, my first hero. I always wanted to emulate him, to attain that level of perfection that he seemed to have attained. I tried my best but something was always lacking and I failed. Maybe reading this blog would make him realise how badly I failed. Maybe it would disappoint him. And disappointing him yet once more would break my heart.
Baba, if you’re reading this, I love you very much. But maybe, you should never get a glimpse into a heart so broken, a mind so messed up and a person so strange. Maybe it’s better this way. But I am sorry I’m not the perfect daughter you’d like me to be.