When I was thirteen years old,
I laid on my bed with painful ovaries and a blood stained trouser.

“Don’t talk about this near men” They whispered and I’ve always wondered why talking about something so natural about a woman was considered a sin and why was it considered revolting.

When I was fourteen years old,
My father hit me with a metal belt continuously for two hours because I was seen at a Cafe with one of my male friend.
Trust me,
He was just a friend.
Oh how I got called names after that.
I was accused of things I didn’t do and sins I didn’t commit.

When I was fifteen years old,
The way my male cousins looked at me changed,
three years ago they saw me only as a happy kid who loved volleyball.
But now,
They looked at me differently,
It was a look of pure lust
and when I confronted my mother about it, she said “It’s all your fault anyways. Girls shouldn’t wear revealing clothes anyways.”
She was a woman,
Wasn’t she supposed to understand my feelings?

When I was sixteen years old,
My aunt sent a proposal for me.
I refused.
That’s when the taunting started.
I was emotionally abused everyday by words such as
“Why don’t you want to marry your first cousin?”
“Is it because you have a boyfriend?”
“If you don’t marry now, when will you?”
“He’s a rich man, you won’t find another good proposal.”
“What will you do with all this education. That’s not what a girl is supposed to do.”

I couldn’t say anything to them,
All I did was suffer,
I had no one,
Except words, prose and poetry.

When I was seventeen years old,
I went through what every person in my shoes would go through,
I suffered from severe depression.
Due to depression my grades started to slip and all I wanted to do was sleep.

No matter what I did,
I was never good enough.
I was always that child in the family who lacked in everything including intelligence, beauty and confidence.

Now I’m eighteen years old,
I’m sitting in my room and staring at the ceiling with blank and lifeless eyes.

It’s the same room where I grew up,
It’s been almost five years.
My teenage year’s memories aren’t all sunshine and rainbows.
I’ve had a lot of ups and downs,
Mostly downs.

And I think that perhaps I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to recover from my past scars.
Memories simply don’t fade away,
especially the unpleasant ones.

The harsh words that they have told you will haunt you for the rest of your life.
Whenever you’re feeling low,
The memories will flash in your mind reminding you how useless and pathetic you are.

People don’t realize the words that they’re saying and the effect it can have on others.

They don’t know how hard it is to wake up every single morning and fight your demons
and your inner darkness.

They don’t know what it’s like to live with depression.
They just don’t know anything.

Imagine a world where people actually tasted their words before spitting them and realize how bitter they taste.

Wouldn’t the world be a much happier and brighter place?



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Mübéèñ Ghûmmæñ
Mübéèñ Ghûmmæñ

More power to you girl ❤


Wowow man.
This is ❤❤