The Black Sheep.

SOURCE

 Someone rightly said we write about the things we can’t speak about.

Perhaps, unconsciously, the reason why I am blogging.

And absolutely the reason why I typed a tactless message and pressed send. Five seconds later, my Father would’ve read it. And it wasn’t the usual slip-up of the wrong recipient. It was written exclusively for him and Mother, aimed directly at their egos, shot through their hearts.

If you knew me personally, you wouldn’t believe the things I wrote. I thought I liked being capricious but not this way.

What breaks my heart most is that, the content of that message, though rather selective and selfish, was not mistaken.

My Father kept calling me back and when it was finally clear that I wasn't in a mood to talk, he left a message that read "Don't feel bad R, You are the best child any parent could wish for. Mummy and I Love you very much."

Now I'm in this huge chamber of guilt and remorse and I don't know if I can ever come out of it.

I shook their little peace and I’m just a sober, stubborn, selfish, churlish, needy kid.

It would’ve been easier coming from a junkie child.

I could tell you what the message read, but I don't like to be judged. I couldn't even tell KS and he is my secret keeper.

And also because it is what I'm trying to forget, yet it keeps on reiterating in my selfish little head.