This, my letter to you, I write in English. I do it because I have spent most of my life, quite accurately 18 years, away from even the language of my own people, that it has become a permanent part of who I am. I cannot express myself, to the full extend of my being, in my native language.
These are my first words to you, from my truest self.
I am not a writer, nor an academic. A comma, to me, represents a slight pause. If I could trouble you to pause at the commas, to dare I say, feel a bit closer to these words, and indeed, the I behind them.
My story, I suspect, began like any other. I had friends, family, and every opportunity. I was in my own skin, anxious to see what the world had to offer, and aching to discover what kind of a person I would grow up to become. I could tell the difference between right and wrong, and I had perspective.
One unfortunate day, at the age of seven I believe, my mother told me to respect your elders, even if you dislike them. I, instead of asking why, trusted her to speak the absolute truth, and reasoned her wisdom with all the logic I could muster: people older than me have reached some magical age where upon they are more trustworthy. This, in turn, told me I myself had not reached that magical age, and as such, was not trustworthy. Every year I grew older, I would believe the same: people older than me have reached some magical age where upon they are more trustworthy, and I am not.
This new found ideology led me to heaps of trouble, unbeknownst to my friends and family. I blindly trusted people older than me, and despite my emotions telling me otherwise, I did things I knew I shouldn't have. And I got burned. Bad.
I no longer trusted my elders, my parents, nor myself. I, at age eight, began figuring everything out for myself, and ignored my emotions, and the needs behind them. Everything I did, I did alone. I played by myself, did research on my own, and walked the night alone. Eventually, I grew apart from my friends as I increased my online presence, from gaming to reading about weapons technology to programming to science, and a whole lot of in between.
My relationships a-few ended rough, and enforced the core belief I had come to accept: People are not trustworthy. Every time I had revealed something deeply personal, or acted out of true self, the people I thought loved me, would ridicule me. This led myself to lie, to protect myself from the ridicule of others, because if the people who supposedly loved me couldn't draw an inch of humility and compassion, how could the rest of the world?
You, it seems, were different. Though everything in you screamed to run away - with good reason, I might add - somehow, you stayed. And I am glad you did. You taught me trustworthy people do exist, because you were one, and I myself betrayed you. I became what I had feared. Untrustworthy.
Now I understand, that my entire life, I had been unknowingly working the scientific method towards the discovery of self. This is the first day I am looking at my life completely naked. This is the first day, of the rest of my life.
I do not conceit to imagine I know what you are feeling reading this, and I dare not even speculate. It may just as well sound like someone telling another story, but to me, it actually happened. And I accept it.
And this is the moment in time where my past meets my present, and the first thing I want to do, is to apologise to you.
I am deeply, deeply sorry, for the immense pain I've caused, and the neglect I've shown.
I have a thousand regrets,
and none of them you.
Your friend (if you will have me),
Suma
These are my first words to you, from my truest self.
I am not a writer, nor an academic. A comma, to me, represents a slight pause. If I could trouble you to pause at the commas, to dare I say, feel a bit closer to these words, and indeed, the I behind them.
My story, I suspect, began like any other. I had friends, family, and every opportunity. I was in my own skin, anxious to see what the world had to offer, and aching to discover what kind of a person I would grow up to become. I could tell the difference between right and wrong, and I had perspective.
One unfortunate day, at the age of seven I believe, my mother told me to respect your elders, even if you dislike them. I, instead of asking why, trusted her to speak the absolute truth, and reasoned her wisdom with all the logic I could muster: people older than me have reached some magical age where upon they are more trustworthy. This, in turn, told me I myself had not reached that magical age, and as such, was not trustworthy. Every year I grew older, I would believe the same: people older than me have reached some magical age where upon they are more trustworthy, and I am not.
This new found ideology led me to heaps of trouble, unbeknownst to my friends and family. I blindly trusted people older than me, and despite my emotions telling me otherwise, I did things I knew I shouldn't have. And I got burned. Bad.
I no longer trusted my elders, my parents, nor myself. I, at age eight, began figuring everything out for myself, and ignored my emotions, and the needs behind them. Everything I did, I did alone. I played by myself, did research on my own, and walked the night alone. Eventually, I grew apart from my friends as I increased my online presence, from gaming to reading about weapons technology to programming to science, and a whole lot of in between.
My relationships a-few ended rough, and enforced the core belief I had come to accept: People are not trustworthy. Every time I had revealed something deeply personal, or acted out of true self, the people I thought loved me, would ridicule me. This led myself to lie, to protect myself from the ridicule of others, because if the people who supposedly loved me couldn't draw an inch of humility and compassion, how could the rest of the world?
You, it seems, were different. Though everything in you screamed to run away - with good reason, I might add - somehow, you stayed. And I am glad you did. You taught me trustworthy people do exist, because you were one, and I myself betrayed you. I became what I had feared. Untrustworthy.
Now I understand, that my entire life, I had been unknowingly working the scientific method towards the discovery of self. This is the first day I am looking at my life completely naked. This is the first day, of the rest of my life.
I do not conceit to imagine I know what you are feeling reading this, and I dare not even speculate. It may just as well sound like someone telling another story, but to me, it actually happened. And I accept it.
And this is the moment in time where my past meets my present, and the first thing I want to do, is to apologise to you.
I am deeply, deeply sorry, for the immense pain I've caused, and the neglect I've shown.
I have a thousand regrets,
and none of them you.
Your friend (if you will have me),
Suma
