Today is my mother’s birthday. My mother loves me with all her heart. I do too. Something happened to me and made me hate her. She was lovely though, she still is. I wasn’t in my right mind back then.
Till the 8th standard, I was as sweet as a rose. I would smile, no matter what. I would shake and hold hands with anyone. Then the terrible illness came. In 9th standard, the dark days came.
My class was filled with bullies. I always seemed to get into fights. Oh, why me? Why don’t I get treated like the rest of them? Why do I get all the humiliation? I used to think. I felt like I was different. I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be just like them.
One day in the games period, I was running to the playground crying, with the boys jeering at me from behind.
I hated my mother as much as I hated myself, as much as I hated the world. I was filled with anger like a balloon filled with air. I and my mother would fight day and night. “You gave birth to me for your own pleasure, your own happiness. You don’t love me,” I would shout as if possessed by a demon.
I felt like the strangers cared for me. But then, no one loves me like my mother. Nothing comforts me more than her hug. I am sorry for how I treated her. I am going to say, “Happy Birthday, mom,” right away. Oh, how I love her, my sweet mother.