The Black Sheep.

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 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.

Hopes underneath the litle lies.

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Tonight I’ll be talking to my Father about the vacation that I’m planning on going with KS and his brother. I need his cash and he is not likely to send me off with two boys that are ‘bad influence’. I need a credible excuse (read lie) to deliver, and I'm praying that he doesn’t ask for too many details, he isn’t all that gullible of a parent. So also not my Mother. After that I need to tell Ph and I’m apprehensive about her reaction. She knows about KS and I and pretends like she doesn’t. Because she wants me to believe that she trusts me. After I told her we were only friends and she stopped questioning. Even when there have been numerous instances where she has got a whiff of our liaison. Like one morning she realized I wasn’t home when I had sneaked out to spend the night with Him on the eve of his 21st birthday. It's like we are both waiting for an intervention of some kind, meanwhile faking everything till we get there. A small part of me wishes for her to she ask me just one more time so that I can tell her the truth, of the magnitude of his existence in my life. While the other prominent part is not prepared for any speed bump. Not Yet. And perhaps lying is easier than the possibilities of having being told that this Love is a mistake. My heart wouldn't be able to bear it. You would know.