Am I still alive ?. Ah, surely I'm still alive because if not definitely this is not the place. Although I've never seen it but I'm sure this place is not a grave, hell let alone heaven. There was a black shadow blocking my sight. Is it the angel of death? will he pick me up now ?. Am I no longer given a chance ?. The black shadows drew closer, clasping my hand with my identity bracelet saying 'Nura' my little name. His hands were cold as there was not a drop of blood flowing to him. The grip seemed to bend my hand. I can not move anymore, I can not escape let alone run. The shadow grasped my hand almost to crush the bones of the wrist. I wanted to scream, but my voice choked. There is no sound that comes out other than 'ah' and 'uh'. As if my strength had vanished. I lost my balance when I saw the scene before me.
My body was shaking violently, terrified. Until a violent shock penetrated my body, warm, as if blood was flowing again. The black shadows disappeared, having changed the white shadow of doctors and nuns. There was a thin pole beside me, hung a drip tube that dictated drops after my life. It turns out I'm really alive. It did not take long before the nurse transferred me to the ward. Various faces came and went. Smiling and concerned. But I do not care anymore, because the face I'm looking for will never exist, I'll never see again. Was feeling sorry, why am I still alive?
I woke up and those days had passed so fast, I felt as if I had been asleep for only a few hours. The flower in the vase had changed into a fresh flower, some replaced it. Maybe this is the tradition, the interest is changed when the patient's room is also changed ?. I had to leave this sick place soon after, though after all that would make things out there more disgusting. I walked across a routine that suddenly seemed so strange to me. Suddenly I felt like I was one of the boys who had slept in the cave for hundreds of years and woke up to find that the world had changed so much. Have I been asleep for so long?
The gravestone in front of me was warmed by the morning sun. The beautiful face has sunk here, leaving me with the world's affairs I now have to solve myself. Ah, we have not even had time to say good-bye, you just whispered your last wish for me. Although I know exactly what you want, a desire that feels until whenever I can never be. I'm sorry bu, because until whenever I will never be able to love father like mother love him. I can never do more than you do for her. I will not be patient beyond your patience. I can never love her more than you love her.
You came when I was eight years old, the most beautiful gift for me. It is rare that a child receives a father's gift on his birthday. Since childhood I always ask where you go, but Mom always says that you go far to work. I accept it. But it was not as beautiful as I imagined it to be. You always refuse my request for a weekend walk, even just playing and accompanying me to study, you never exist. You always go every day except on weekends, for whatever reason.
The weekend will always be a special day for us, for the right mother, because only on the weekend will you come. If you had known, Mother always welcomed you in the best way, though she knew how much you would never repay anything for her sacrifice. As for me, the weekends are just the hard times between my many happy moms.
Every weekend Mother will go to work with her friend and stay for two days, you certainly will not give us a penny. You just come as a parasite, ride and make it difficult. I had to get up as early as I could, prepare warm water for you to take a shower, prepare breakfast for lunch and dinner. So for the two days it leaves me and you, this congested home, will always be a tense waiting period, because every mistake is paid for itself. Like that morning. You woke up early because a pot I accidentally knocked over, hit some other household appliance, sucked you in. You never talk much, just cast a cold look. Your strong hand grips me, and lets me all day locked in a room 1 × 2 m without windows and lights. I'm afraid, very afraid.
Since childhood I can not be in darkness, the distress will penetrate and strangle with strength. For more than 24 hours you locked me up. I yelled at you as hard as I could but nothing changed, the darkness still covering me. At that moment I thought maybe I would soon be dying. Ah, you want to kill me slowly. It was in the darkness, the first time I knew hatred and resentment. Until the faint step of the rush was heard. Slowly the door opened and felt like oxygen flooding my respiratory tract, soothing.
Mother came and hugged me, I wanted to call her name but no one came out. Mother looked into my eyes, her lips moved as if to say something, but nothing I heard. The wind felt dead so that it could not creep up. 'Mother?' I whine in my heart. 'Nura? You heard my dear mother? ' I do not understand. Mother kept stroking my ears. I can not speak, I can not hear anything. Warm tears flooding my cheeks, you stand right behind Mother, with a face that never changes. Always cold. I hate him, but can not say anything.
But, I try to learn to forgive my own past. I do not know who is to blame and should take responsibility for this problem. Who knows who to forgive who. But one thing is for sure, mom always ask me to learn to forgive. Learn to forgive you if in that week not once you go home. Learn to forgive you if your hand deliberately swings a slap that seems to me more painful than painful this cheek. Learn to forgive you if profane swearing escorted my every activity. For years I have survived in this way, probably out of belief in my own love.
Often I ask if you're not tired of questioning my mood. Have not you ever tired of testing me. I never need you to give me anything, even a dash of happiness even I do not need it from you. After all, I am happy in my own way, happy to always learn to forgive you. I just need your confession. Your confession that you and I are there, but you always blind yourself.
The prison is not as cold as the eye you are gazing at me. He's dead. correct?' he said with a sign language. Since the confinement, I can no longer speak and hear. Then Mom taught me in sign language. Mother also taught me to continue to forgive, mother taught me to continue to love and take care of you. But the question is so piercing, destroying my first defense, so long I try not to grieve for you. I just nodded as if everything that happened was normal. 'Do you want to come with him? Die.' your laughter exploded echoing in the narrow room, Perhaps if I could still hear it it would deafen my ears. once again my energy seemed to disappear, I sat down in the corner. I have to get going.
Fitta held my hand, not sure that I will visit you again. I've been sharing a week with Fitta, my best friend on campus. I nod firmly, I have to do it for Mom. The first time you come in our life, Mom taught me to make toast. 'Your dad loves your mother's strawberry jam so much so you have to start making it so you can replace her when you're gone.' I felt like I was going away. I never imagined what if one day I had to really lose Mother, because she is the only reason I can survive to love you.
'If my father likes Mommy's toast, why does he hate us bu?' I asked one day. He loves me attentively. 'Do not you ever ask why he hates us? and why we should love him, if in this way she can survive to love your father, then you too can 'Sometimes I feel so scared, Mother is too confident that I can do all he has done. Mom is too confident that I can take her place. 'Are you sure you want to go ra, let me join ya?' I shook my head firmly, I'm sure myself enough will disturb your comfort. I say goodbye, bring two layers of your favorite strawberry jam.
I feel like a baby bird. Drenched and shrunken. I'm afraid I'm walking. This is the second time I visited you. A guard escorted and escorted my meeting with you, bordering on cold bars. I knocked an iron cell with a cheap ring to call you who was lying on a bed. You turned around too. I show my toast. Your one step has dampened me a few steps. Ah, it's like dealing with a hungry tiger. 'Return!' your shakes while waving your hand telling me to leave immediately, you're in control. Undaunted. But, no way, I've come this far. My toast? it should not be in vain. You have to eat it. 'Heh? return!' your touch again. I went over and handed me some bread and some oranges. You keep ignoring me. But that's the mother, then all this I have to do. Said mother, this is learning to love and love you. Yes, once again I was taught to forgive your treatment for me. No matter .. I'm more clever to forgive than to love. So I have to learn more. 'Never come again.! basic mute! deaf!' his credentials. It feels very sick to see him. Never mind, Mother says she never really meant what she said. Tired of this foot walking away.
Nevertheless, all passed like a routine that will not be replaced. The same weekend. The same kitchen. The same baker. The same street. The same prison and guard. It's been two months since I first visited you, which means it will be the ninth time I've come. However, nothing has changed in this heart. Each of these feet treads on the cold prison floor, always the same mechanism repeats itself. This heart tries to offer love, then you drop it, I will be sad and then I will learn to forgive. Without really there is so sincere affection. How come? if every time I fall asleep, then that dream is always present. Dreams of those days of uncertainty. How come? if each foot is stepping into the kitchen then it feels are fragile legs through the heat, rain and willing to wait for long just for the sake of reaching out to give your favorite strawberry toast. How come? if each person is waiting for the burning hot bread, then the present is a feeling of disappointment, accumulate and burn, fill the heart and develop into hatred every time you see your hand stretched out the car window and toss the toast first on each of your departures. How come? if each of these hands moves on your favorite strawberry jam, the only fresh blood flowing from the mother's back that you aim for is sharply sharpened. You are a murderer, and I must love and love a murderer ?. Ah mother, you're really too confident to leave me for this matter.
'Today again tomorrow? I wonder why you have not given up yet when he always forbid you to come? ' Fitta is still protesting, once she has come to see you, and you have a terrible rage against us. From that moment he was cured to accompany me. I nod firmly. Yes, maybe I have been so stupid to do this. Mother is gone, no one will evaluate my promise to her, mother will never know I reneged on her promise. But, I just want to keep it, for what reason? I do not know yet.