As a kid, I was the jolly one. My parents told me I was this one baby who laughed all the time. They didn't know that this happiness would not dwell in me for long. They didn't know that a kid who laughed at the start of her life would ever cry later. No one knew, and no one knows. No one would.
Whenever I recall the best days I had in childhood, I also remember that with those good days, I was granted to have bad days too. It is like a "Buy one, get one free" offer. You buy happiness, you get sadness with it too. It's inevitable. But why? This is the question I have been asking myself and no matter how many questions I ask, I just get one answer: I don't know. I don't know why I am a sad person. I don't know why I cry everyday. I don't know why I am so awkward that I can't even talk properly with people on the other side of the screen. I don't why I am not perfect in any way. I know some would say, "Nobody's perfect," but I say: I know nobody's perfect. Lives are perfect. Happiness is perfect. Perfection is tranquility and serenity. According to this, I am not perfect at all. I don't know anything. I didn't even know that people have the ability to kill each other until...
I must have been three or four years old. Yeah, great days, aren't they? No. Not for me. Not until that day when my older sister and I were having a fight. I don't remember what we were fighting about. I just remember her face was red out of anger. There are only two real emotions that belong to her: Happiness and anger. My grandfather says that our anger sits on our nose. The more fat the nose is, the more aggressive person you are. My sister's nose is pretty fat. But it should have been more than it really is.
We were fighting about something and she slapped me. I got really angry and I was also crying. We were playing something I think. The fight must have been about something useless because that's the reason why we always fight. I had my little hand on my cheek and couldn't have stayed like that anymore. I said something back. I don't remember what but it must have been something bad for my sister which made her grab the knife beside her. She lifted the knife and was going to stab me when I screamed and mum came for rescue. She came in the right timing when the knife was an inch closer to me.
"Are you crazy?!" mum shouted at her.
"She makes me angry!" my sister shouted.
Mum didn't do anything to her but ordered her to go to other room. Mum did not slap her. She didn't even scream at her. She went away as if nothing happened.
I wish she would've done something. Something which might have changed my life. I wouldn't have been in this condition if my mum had done something that right moment.
My sister never wanted me. She wanted me to die.
That was the day when I got to know that people can kill each other, and then some years after that I got to know that people can also kill one's soul. People can kill other's mind too. Like mine.