He is waiting in the Principal’s office, and I don’t want to see him. Fake tears, feigned affection, freaky attempts to lure me with cheap candy I relished as a child, but have long since outgrown — why does this man need to wear so many faces? And none of those are convincing enough.
I am an orphan. I was born alone. I will die alone. I failed to garner support or love on the way either. When I won the first basketball match, there was no family around to cheer me. When I wrote my first poem, there was nobody around to appreciate it. The teacher said it was so good that she suspected plagiarism. I was the accused, not the creator.
I liked to dress well with that allowance from an unknown well-wisher. I was blamed for being a show-off. And I don’t know why that well-wisher never thought it was appropriate to meet me. I had nowhere to go in the school vacations, so I spent holidays with a kind teacher who stayed alone.
Is this stranger trying to say that he is my well-wisher, my father… No, I dare not utter the word, or give that adulation to anyone in this world.
I don’t need him. There was never an arm to support or hug me, and never will be. There was never a finger to wipe my tears, and never will be. Inadequacy is at the core of my existence.
I was born alone. I will die alone.
JSW Prompt and