Me

We were living in a one room apartment
Personal space was a luxury I didn’t need
Always terrified of what would proceed
As I was watched but never seen
Attention was only given after a mistake.

I had nowhere to escape and nowhere to hide
I wrote things down on paper
Pages was the only other side
I could write, and I could hide
Privacy wasn’t defined by four walls
But in the dark, under my own blanket
On the only shared bed.

I cried, a lot. More than I could count.
In silence. After having been beaten.
I didn’t know who I was
I wasn’t sure if I was decent
If my parents were right
I was simply a terrible person.
I was nothing but a debtor
Owing my parents every breath
Self-worth was the pledge
I could never get back.

I should know better, behave,
Don’t talk back or don’t talk at all
The end of all conversations
Is punishment or silence
Guidance is in the form of permission,
Of ‘yes’ or ‘no’, of ‘I told you so’.
There’s no praise for any sort of achievement
As the math problem I solved
Is less than me being never enough
As me being too much
Is adding fractures to my character
Asking questions wasn’t in the equation
Anything I got was the sum of my beggings
Any kind of punishment
Was the computation of what I deserve.

If I was the daughter they could love
Maybe one day I’d feel better about myself
Who seems to be just unlovable
Not only by them
But also by myself, neither by anyone else.

* * *

Hey dad, it’s me
You don’t know me at all, do you?
I am more than the name you gave me
I am more than the girl you welcomed to life
25 years ago
And then abandoned emotionally
For as long as I could know.

Hey dad, it’s me
You don’t know me at all, do you?
We were living under the same roof
For most of my life
When I tried my best to be recognized
And you never really liked
What of me that caught your eyes.

Hey dad, it’s me
Let me just quickly introduce
I like sunsets and the moonlight
I love rainfalls and starry nights
I love writing and I speak 4 languages
I love dancing and under the shower I sing
I love poetry and lately
I’ve been writing about you, father.

It breaks my heart to tell these stories
How I grew up in a violent environment
It breaks my heart to tell the world I am broken
Under your roof, under your fatherhood.
But you don’t know me at all.