The Girl With No Face

or better yet, Paris Cafe saved me.

all my life I’ve been extremely self destructive. I would subconsciously ruin any chance/relationship/good thing that would mean happiness for me. I think I somehow figured that I didn’t deserve it! I’d gradually become a masochist. I had no self worth or self esteem. And I blamed my mother for that…

While I was in Paris this summer, while my sisters would go on long shopping sprees, I’d go on long walks with my mother. We’d talk about anything and everything. She’d also buy me really expensive shoes haha…

Anyway, I don’t know if I ever mentioned what emotional cripples my parents and sisters are. Well, they are. They never talk when they’re upset, they never express joy or sorrow or any other emotion you can think of. They’d even yell at me when I expressed certain feelings or when I cried. Sounds evil? They’re not… They’re just the way they are.
This kind of emotional absence has resulted in so many medical issues that are all stress related. CUZ THEY KEEP SHIT INSIDE…

One day in Paris, my mum and I strolled along this beautiful road full of cafes and little shops. We spotted a cafe named “Cafe Paris”. we went in, looked for a spot by the window (windows were as big as doors and were open =) we sat ourselves down facing the little street and my mum started telling me stories about her college days and about the first time she went to Paris and how beautiful Paris is to her.

Strangely and unexpectedly, the conversation took a strange turn. We started talking about our lives, about me and my sisters. (This is where it gets corny) I’ve been trying to bring up this issue all throughout my childhood. So I tell her “I was a difficult kid, I understand why you love my sisters more than you love me, but I’d just wish you’d admit it”. Tears found their way down my face. Actually saying it out loud is much more painful than having it in my head all these years.

“Everything I do pisses you off. Your admiration for my little sister’s beauty, since she was born, is so obvious. Older sister was always perfect! And I was always wrong. Whenever you’d be angry or in a bad mood, it’s always ME you’d take it out on!!”

I have so many memories of things being SO bad that I would go to my aunt’s house and refuse to go home. I would confide in my aunt and she’d talk to my mother. It took someone to TALK to my mother to make my 7 year old life be bearable. Before the talking to, she’d be HORRIBLE to me. She’d yell at me whenever I was in sight. When she’d look at me, her face would lose its light and her expressions become an expression of disgust and she’ll look like she’s tasting something bitter. She’d criticize constantly with no mercy. I had my first suicidal thoughts when I was 10.

To be continued

p.s I’ve been trying to write this for months. since september actually. I keep writing some parts and find it hard to continue. So I’m going to do this in parts