Forgiving Myself and Discovering Happiness


Dear love,

I know the drifting apart would eventually happen; I am just surprised it took me so long.

You know about all the traumas I’ve had in my life, what I was to say, they were all lies. Would you still trust me? Would you still want me around? Would you still even like me?

You see, I was never a happy girl, not because things around me made me unhappy, but maybe because being an unhappy girl made me more attractive. I was naïve, but then I built on it. I made up stories in my head which were never true and exaggerated the ones which were and hence, my normal life, was made mysterious and attractive. The trauma came much later and when it did, I was surprisingly well equipped to deal with them.

You know how around here we call separation and divorce a taboo? Especially when it comes to one’s family. Well, that kind of made my life the way I wanted it to be. But did I like it? Absolutely not.

I was a big liar; I was also very smart so I always sold my lies. And hence, I became an untrustworthy daughter of the household. I don’t know when and what changed, that I started lying a little less and listening to a little more and today, I have changed the way my family looks at me. Now while this fact in isolation made me happy it came with a huge burden. I went from being the one who never knew anything to the one that always knew exactly what was going on.

I would say that I came from nothing, but I had a happy childhood, sure I had my struggles. But at the end of the way we had a nice family filled with love. It was only until decades later when it all started falling apart. It’s funny how the entire house falls down when one single brick is taken from it. A single member was lost and my home fell to ruins. I was never the one to get attached to someone or something. Whenever it came to making a commitment, I looked the other way. But when it came to family, we’re attached. Even if we don’t accept it.

My grandmother was never really a big part of our lives, she never even lived with us. But she was important to all. And losing her made us all lose part of ourselves. The part that kept us together, the part that kept us moral. This gave me jolt, especially about what kind of a life I was leading. And when the realisation came that I built my life on things which essentially weren’t even there so naturally, I started hating myself.

Now the whole process of hating is much more than I single night of repeating, I hate myself. You start by hating the way you look. Then to hating the way your mind works, then to hating everything that is remotely connected to you. This somehow trickled down to you. Now it would be fair to point out, that I also hate myself, for hating you.

And today, when I write you this letter, I hope that this could count as redemption. Maybe this is how I finally forgive myself.

But there are certain things that I cherish about my life. Starting with you. You were my ray of hope and light. I can never forget the night we first held each other and I finally felt peace in life. I remember those moments when I would just look up and smile thinking about you. You became the hero of my life and I thought that by being with someone as good and as pure as you. I could be happy in life; I could maybe move on from all the other heartbreaks and finally just be happy, as long as I was with you.

But life is never fair when it comes to happiness, is it?

I knew someday I had to get out of the bubble that I made my life in. It wasn’t fair, I did not like being not happy. But perhaps my demons forced me into accepting what’s good for me and what’s not. Isn’t it unfair when the goodies and the baddies all actually want the same outcome?

So, there I am, stripped naked by words I’ve would take to the grave. But I have a whole new blank canvas to paint now. And I do not want to paint it with lies and secrets anymore. It’s time to move forward, alone and learn to fight whatever life throws at me, by myself.

I hope you can someday forgive me.

With all my love,


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