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Poem
If you asked me at age six,
I might've told you
I want to become a doctor, a scientist
or even a hero that saves the planet.

But now I feel so ancient,
like I’ve lived a hundred years
in quiet rooms where no one noticed
the girl holding the walls up.

I’ve carried generations in my chest
my mother’s sorrow,
my friends’ storms,
strangers' cries through screens.
But no one asked about the violence
it took to be this nice.

I don’t know at what age i started
pretending i didn’t feel pain.
Maybe it was when i realized
crying only made things worse.
When the people who were supposed to hold me
looked away, or worse,
blamed me for the ache i couldn’t name.

I was never the child
who got to throw tantrums and be soothed.
I was the one who stayed quiet
so no one else would hurt.
I was never the child who broke things, 
I was the one who fixed it,
the one who swallowed her tears
so her mother wouldn’t drown in them.
the one who cleaned up the emotional mess
of people too broken
to see they were breaking me.

I forgave my mother before i understood
what forgiveness even meant.
I learned to rationalize pain
before i even learned to spell it.

Every year, i told myself,
“you’re so mature for your age.”
like it was a good thing.
like it wasn’t just another way of saying,
“you're not going to be saved"
I grew up too fast.
Maturity wasn’t a badge of honor,
it was a survival instinct.

And so i became
the understanding daughter,
the forgiving friend.
The girl who sees the best in people
even when they hand her their worst.
I said “it’s okay” so many times
my throat forgot how to say
anything else.

I was just a little girl
who wanted to be held,
not lectured,
not told to be quiet.
Not blamed for someone else’s bad day,
just held.

I forgave my mother
before i even understood why she hurt me.
Before i knew that love isn’t supposed to
feel like guilt.
Like walking on glass to earn a hug.
Like apologizing for bleeding
after someone else cuts you.

I always had to be the bigger person.
Even when i was the smallest one in the room.

But what about me?
Who held me when i was hurting?
Who listened when i was silent
But screaming, crying,
Begging to be seen.

So, i want to become 
the listener, the healer, 
the wise one in the room.
The girl who always gets it,
and says the right things.
I want to become someone,  
I needed so badly
but never had.

—12th april,2025
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