WHY AM I ME?

English

• Short story

								
Sitting in front of the mirror in the changing room in preparation for my speech; I was already fully dressed. Make-up was done, shoes unscathed, Jewelry intact; nothing missing. I stared at the mirror that displayed my reflection, while I reminisced on how I thought I was ugly and awful. I remembered how I spent half of my life weeping my eyeballs out because I thought I was ugly and dreadful. I recollected some pieces of my past. My dad, who had been negligent in his responsibility, had an argument with my mum about whose child I was. I was behind the curtain filled with despair. "That thing is not my child," my dad said, then stormed out of the room with intense fury. "How could…. How could he say...that to me?" My mum wailed uncontrollably. I hid myself to avoid being caught by my mum. My mum has always warned me not to eavesdrop on their conversation. I have never tasted the love of a father. My dad detests anyone who calls me his daughter, perhaps because I am ugly.I left for my friend's place, where I always stayed during my mum-dad argument. My friend who had no reason to abhor me like others, unfortunately, was visually impaired. She gave me all I needed and never requested anything in return. When my dad chases me out of the house, she accepts me and feeds me. "What if she regains her sight today, will she still like me? Will she still take me as her friend or toss me off as others do?" I pondered. I was always comfortable around her. On our way home from our piano class, we were chatting about our experience with today's tutelage by a new instructor. In the middle of our discussion, I asked her, "What if you regain your sight today will you still be my friend?" She burst into laughter. I was still anticipating her response but it was not forthcoming. I decided to walk home, leaving her behind. But then she said, "Don't mind, I will never have another friend apart from you. By the way, even without seeing you, I know very well that your eyes are pretty". I teared up at her words. I ran very shortly, embraced her, and stayed for about a few minutes. She welcomed my hug. Then, I borrowed her hands which I patted on the back. We preceded home, matching and waving our hands as we enjoyed the overwhelming joy that enveloped us. A few days after the unhealthy argument that ensued between my dad and my mum, we were thrown out of the house. That was the inception of my ugly travails. My mum pleaded with my dad, but he paid deaf ears to her compassionate pleas. In the morning of the next day, we hurried towards the railway station to meet up with the early morning rides.The only thing I regretted was leaving my friend behind. After several hours of sitting in one place, I decided to doze on the rough seat that reeks of roasted rubber. My eyes opened unhurriedly, but the gleam of the sun made me shut it back. We finally arrived at our destination; the countryside. I thought I could live a happy life here (countryside) with my mum, not expecting interference or taunts from anyone. But… It was worse here. In the countryside, Parents caution their kids while telling them that they will become ugly like me if they steal or play too much. Mothers berated me during their discussions that I wasn't fine. I remember how I always get intimidated by trivial issues. How I always assumed the worst, hence giving up without trying. How I was weighed down by people's opinions about me. The memories of the past, how I can’t speak in class for the fear of being mocked by my classmates. The memories of those days, when the statement I frequently used the most was, “No….it is not true”. How I spent every day of my life wishing to be someone else. How I lost my virginity to the only guy that told me I was beautiful. As days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years I began to believe that I am ugly. I had solace in no one; not my parents, not my classmates, not my teachers either. Each time I was taunted by anyone, I would go home and wet my pillows with tears. Over time, I became my own shadow. I can remember how my playmates sneered at me because I was trying to play the role of a princess in our school drama. They ridiculed me to the extent of pushing me out of the drama arena. ”You are not beautiful, so you can't be our princess,” one said. I shouted instantly, “No…it is not true”. I ran away holding back my tears. My eyes welled up with tears, and my knees wobbled. I could not condone the harsh treatment of my colleagues. I constrained myself inside, to hide my face from the public.I detested anything that involved taking pictures, because as they said; I am not beautiful. I would always sit alone at a cafe, railway station, airport, or social gathering, imagining how beautiful I would look if whereas this or that person. No one wants to befriend me because of my looks. I keep asking myself if I look that awful. I have gotten used to people telling me I am not beautiful, but I have not gotten used to the pain that comes after it. Loneliness was my best companion. That is because I was always lonely, without anyone to gist or play with. Not having anyone to confide in, and no one to ease my pains with words or actions. I could remember this particular day, I was going to school. As I was rushing to school I stopped midway, rooted to a spot. Everything seemed to halt for a while as I saw two couples patting their puppy. They were our Sneighbors, popularly known as the “lovey-dovey couple”. You can't see the wife without the husband. In the same way, you can't see the husband without catching a glimpse of the wife near him. They were an old couple that believed in cleanliness. They always tend to their gardens filled with flowers. But now, all I could see was the couple's care and attention directed toward the puppy. The attention given to the little puppy was quite evident. I became envious of the puppy. At that point, I felt the puppy and I should switch roles. The attention given to the puppy was more than I could ever imagine which made me feel less a human; because he was regarded and taken care of by its guardians. Never had I experienced a happy life such as that of the puppy. Tears ran down my eyes. I left for school in a sad state. After school that day, I resolved to walk back home on foot. I strolled elegantly on the road, with a bold guise devoid of sluggishness, while protecting my esteem and social flaws from the prying eyes of the world. I accidentally bumped into a girl of my age, who was on her phone without any awareness of the direction she was taking. It was her fault, but I apologized first. I felt obliged to blame myself for her recklessness. “I am so sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you, it was unintentional” I hastily apologized. A slap landed on my left cheek. “You filthy wench, are you blind?! Oooh!… I get it now; you just want to smear my perfume on your dress! ” She threw tantrums at me and blamed me for her rumpled dress. I couldn’t retaliate because I didn’t dare to do so. She gave me a disdainful look, which made me retrace my steps unknowingly. Sweats were oozing from my skin. Goose pimples apparently on my skin and I could feel the cold aura brushing across my skin. My lips were trembling at intervals. I was scared to look her in the face. My head was slightly bent below, facing the ground, and at the same time, I was fumbling my fingers. She had a formidable air around her. The uneasiness I felt about her scorching gaze and impudent presence gave me the urge to walk past her. She dragged me back and slammed her right elbow on my chest, which made me slump on the ground. Subconsciously, I reached out to help her strengthen her dress, but I was pushed back with such fervor that I dropped back on the ground; I was trying to rise. As if that wasn’t enough, she suddenly shouted in an agitated manner “Don’t even dare touch me! I don’t want to imagine how tragic the aftermath will be.” She said before stomping off. I was surprised that I didn't shed a single tear after all the tongue lashing, perhaps I had already gotten used to being bullied. I wailed silently, not giving way for any single emotion to show on my face. I started to imagine how beautiful I would have been, if I were to be her. I smiled sheepishly at the thought of it. I continued to bombard myself with ideas of substituting my being with hers. I was still enjoying my euphoria; while fantasizing how adorable and stunning I would be if I were to be her. A man approached me and said, “Miss, are you okay?” I jolted back to reality. It was then it dawned on me that I was on the lane. I abruptly glared at the man that disrupted my delusion. “Of course I am okay”, I said. But I felt remorseful for replying harshly. But at least his question made me less invisible; because someone knew I existed; by asking if I was okay. I decided to branch out at a coffee shop and get myself a hot cup of coffee. Though it was already noon, surprisingly the weather was cool and the atmosphere was slightly misty. I savored the taste of the drink, but it was a little bitter. I felt the sudden urge to spit it out but restrained myself from doing so. “Is this coffee against me? Is this a way of telling me you despised me too?” I rhetorically asked the coffee. I recalled how I woke up one particular morning, with the help of the sun rays, which slowly creaked their way into my room through the window sills; deliberately breaking the news of a new day in a peaceful manner. The day was bright but a bit gloomy. The birds were chirping, making the room lively. The trees were vibrant and alive. The atmosphere was welcoming. I felt like the day was just made exclusively for me. I got dressed for a presentation I was supposed to participate in that morning. I rehearsed my poem before my mirror with agility, pride, and boldness. I was that bold behind the scenes but not in the spotlight. I tried to give myself a chance to become known for at least something, by participating in a contest. To win the contest, you will have to be bold and fluent with your words. I told myself that I could do it, though I had many "what Ifs" running through my head. I was prepared to give myself a chance by taking part in the presentation. On reaching the place, I became nervous. I joined my team to rehearse for the last time before the contest commenced. We were summoned to move toward the stage. But our tutor dragged me back and asserted, "You are not meant for the spotlight. Remain backstage where you truly belong". At that instant, I felt like the whole world was totally against me. I clenched my fist, with tears dropping from my eyes. I sniffed back the phlegm forcing its way out of my nose. I went back home totally dejected. I gave my last on becoming socially relevant by rehearsing and preparing for the contest, but all the efforts were wasted. I made a vow not to get involved in any competition ever again. Mostly, the ones I will surface in front of the audience because it seems everyone sees me the same way. “Since no one likes me, won't it be better if I end my life. I won't be troubled by what they say about me and I won't be depressed for not being as beautiful as others,” I thought. I decided to sleep, as a way of temporarily escaping reality. I dreamed of a beautiful young woman, who was being idolized by both the rich and the common alike. She looked glamorous in her outfit. She walked elegantly toward the stage. This young lady was exuding the aura of royalty. She wowed her audience with her speech, but they were drooling for more of her words. Then again, I saw her face which looked exactly like mine. “This is my face and body structure” I felt. I woke up, only to discover that it was a dream. I despised myself the more for being beautiful only in my dream and being ugly in reality. Why am I me? Why was I created differently? Why am I not like others? These are questions I asked myself. I had wished severally that I should not have been created in the first place. One particular day, I was coming back from work, and I quickly paced down the alley "Chloe! Chloe!! God, can't she hear me?" That was the voice of my new colleague at work. I stopped midway, to give her the chance to catch up with me. On reaching, she bent down, panting profusely; like she just ran a marathon. "What can I do foryou?” I said. Anticipating the ridicule I always received from people. But the reverse transpired. "Can I be your friend?" She said.  I was awestruck. "Did she just…" I didn't complete what I was saying in my mind. "Alright" was my response. She peered at me, "Just like that? Can't you tell me you would think it over or something? I just smiled. She was the first friend I made after many years of not having any. We started conversing over a myriad of things heartily. "The colour of your eyes is rare and… “She ceased her words as we noticed a steady footstep trailing ours. I made a stop, which spurred her to make the same decision.  I remember in the restroom, I overheard some senior personnel talking about foreign surveillance taking place today, and it involved a murder case. "Is he one of the inspectors or among the perpetrators? Why should it be today of all days? I don't want to die" I soliloquize in panic. Fear grabbed a hold of me. I had that urge to run but….He came forward, then stopped before us and said, "Your eyes are beautiful, and I would like to take pictures of you. Can I?" Is this his way of dissipating to the world that I am ugly? I gaped at him to know if he was indirectly trying to make fun of me. But no, his words were genuine. Never has anyone told me so passionately that my eyes are beautiful. Those were the only words in my life that felt true. I unexpectedly consented to his request. I was filled with happiness and thanked him for his compliment. I abruptly strode home, and went straight to my room; where I stood before the mirror scrutinizing my face for hours to see if what he said was true. I went to work the next day gleefully. I was beaming with smiles the whole day because he said “Your eyes are beautiful”. I wrote it down in my diary to mark that day. Just those words changed my life for the better.  I knew right then that it was those words I desperately longed for, for years. Now I am a renowned public speaker. Everyone wants to hear me speak, which prompts them to pay, for me to convey at least a message to them. All these are because of a statement. Tears were threatening to fall and damage my strong facade; so, I dabbed them with my handkerchief. "Ma'am, you are needed on the stage" I was called.
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