About Her Family And Home

{She hasn't dated this diary entry }

Everyone talks about being different, everyone thinks about being different but rarely, anyone has the guts to do something different.
The word 'courage' itself gives me discouragement because its thought is difficult.
Thinking that you have a lot of problems, bragging to yourself and that you are strong enough to survive and pondering about your problems is not the courageous, but this is what I do.
Being courageous is speaking out your problem in public and questioning to find an answer, even if you question the authorities. Courage is shown when with great innocence and respect, you have the guts to speak out your discomfort. This is what my schoolmate did in front of me today. I couldn't have even dreamt of thinking of doing so he questioned the teachers with all due respect. No one had the courage to do that.

My principal understood him and promised to plan interactive sessions in which the teachers would be held accountable. I feel inspired by him, he is so bold and strong. But whenever I want anything like that my personality, my family is always there to put me down. If not my dad, then my brother today whenever he has a good mood he wishes to hug me, and have a playful time with me, then, whenever he wants, he is going to irritate me, fight with me or even hits me.
Looking at him, his teachers, his relatives and friends can never think he can physically hurt me but ashamed of myself and my family, I admit, he has hit me so hard that my body had a swollen edge, and he is proud of it. He can tell it to you with a blunt smile, a nice laugh and feeling of pride. I am ashamed of him.
If I go and tell it to any of our common adult acquaintances, they will refuse to accept the fact. No one believes me, but everyone trust him. Sometimes I think if I'm really crazy because all these people treat me this way. Only my mum, my best friend and my friend ( who I call my sister ) really believe me.

I have learnt to raise my voice against his gestures but at the end, my dad scolds me for being too laud. He never tries to seek the reason behind my cries. One day, if I get hurt badly in my house and I shout out of pain and I die after my screams, I am certain my dad will arrive only after my death, to tell me to keep quiet and to scold me. I don't wish to live here. It's a trap, not a home.

The First Diary Entry

{She hasn't dated this diary entry}

What you see in these few pages is my mom's handwriting and her spiritual notes.

 What a lady! Trying to turn herself spiritual and better with words to remind her to do so.

Look at her determination and self control. She tried her best collecting articles and words for good parenting.

She never showed it to me. I found it myself once while cleaning my set of books. I didn't bother to read it all at once ,but I rather kept it for the right time. The time when I need strength, will be the right time. My parents split and I live with my dad. My mom lives somewhere else and she isn't there for me for some words of wisdom but her notes are there, always. I am privilege.

I always felt an urge to write and to be with my texture of words. My Mom never expressed but now I know that she gave me these genes, maybe quite an excess of it.

I can write a whole book on her. She's so different from anyone else. She is much more dedicated then she should be. It sets out to be a problem sometimes. 15 years of life taught me that if you are always there for someone, you lose your worth. Always being the good one is stupidity and nothing else. 

I am not saying that she has always been good but its only she, who has collected and secured bits of my childhood memories and not my dad. I don't fear if anyone read this. I am proud to be emotionally stable and clear of my feelings.

My dad spends all his income on my family and me but why doesn't he donate me time and talks? Tears fill my eyes but they dare to step off!  I will wipe them brutally! My dad, if ever reads it, will understand me. He might hug me and talk to me regularly but I won't need it anymore. He has to do it on his own. After my call, if he does it, it will lose its worth. I don't ask for much, just some support and a conversation with guidance. He loves me, I know but it is high time. He has to show it. I can't tell myself this all the time and live life. He needs to say it now but I know he won't because he will never understand. He will never know how I feel.

I appreciate his efforts, money and favours  I will return them to him in future, surly. I don't want to feel like I'm burdened with some favour. He is my dad, I know but these relations are nothing but human creations and social obligations.

My dad is a human being like me and he's taking care of me which he surly deserves to take back in his old age. Rarely anyone will understand my crazy thoughts but it will never make me change. I am not wrong, I am just different and I mean no harm.

I don't know exactly what is my family thinks of me but since my birth I have had a tough time with them so, now most of my care has vanished. Their behaviour towards me made me so insensitive. The alienated me! If I am not someone who fits in your family then why should I act like one! I am similar to my mom and so different from my dad so I hear words like "You're crazy!" Being flunged at me. I don't even know why my mum and dad decided to have kids if they hated each other so much! 

Dad takes it cool! It isn't easy! This is India! Marriage and birth both are considered pure and serious here! Having kids and then separating is the most kidish, childlike and the worst Idea anyone can think of, in India! Family is serious, here. They are adults and still don't understand its effect on me.

I want to say to my dad "Remember! I'm a teen girl without the support of a mother! You are my dad! You can be my Mom, just like she can be my father!"

But I don't do it because it will be difficult to make him understand this and to argue over it. I'd rather keep quiet or tell him to leave me alone. If I ever have kids, I will tell them about me and my life so that they can learn from my mistakes. I will never let them know the meaning of depression because I know how it feels like to cry at night. You feel lifeless. 

I want my kids to have a life. I'll never let their little minds and hearts suffer because I know how it decays a little kid from inside. Not only my kids, I would love to have any other little child who is sad. I don't want any child to be more mature than his / her age because one acquires maturity through suffering. I don't want anyone to suffer more than one can handle to do.

I am sure, anyway, that God has a plan of success in store for me but God, with success I greed for lots of happiness and satisfaction and loving family. I know, God understands me and surly, believes that I deserve to be happy.

I write this and my feelings after being inspired by Anne Frank, but I don't want to make a diary entry  because I don't want my life to be similar to hers. Our suffering and feelings are a bit synonymous. I want to be famous like her but not without love and not after my death. I wish to live fame and satisfaction along with true happiness. The feeling of sadness and frustration in Anne is so similar to mine that it makes me ponder if I were Anne frank in my previous birth. I hope not! I don't wish to suffer like her! And more over my poor soul would be reading about herself and would admire herself being Kyra not Anne Frank what a trapping pain! 

I know I am letting my imagination run wild but that's how you make writers! 

Well, enough of Anne, and her thoughts. May her soul be satisfied and happy with her success. May I have an original success story and may I acquire happiness and blessings of Almighty, whom I love. I'm just Kyra and I have an independent life.

Before She Started Writing For Katy

Our young lady finds a diary one day, while cleaning her cupboard, in which her mother used to write some notes for herself. The diary is filled in, but even less than half of it's pages are used.

She decides to use this diary further, and names it Katy.

She befriends this diary as she has always loved writing.

Very rarely would she express her true feelings towards others, and therefore, this was the best way to blare the universe within her.

A universe, such a vast expanse of life, and it's origin, such a powerful energy comprising of both destruction and birth, is hidden within her, and evidently, she couldn't contain something so energetic within her for long.

Katy provides her the solution, being a good listener!

They become the closest of friends in no time.

{Based on a true story}

(Come back on Monday, 17/8/2015 as I start with her diary entries on that day!

Hope you enjoy living two lives as you get regular on this blog- Your life and that of our young lady.)