When I was a child, of course everyone was, no achievement as such but those days, I always believed that a blanket can protect me from anything.
I always chose my blanket color myself, I did not let anyone have it. Me and one me used it.
It was my go to place all the time. Everytime momma beat me, I hid myself in the blanket and would cry as much as I wanted. I always believed that my sound did not go out of the banket no matter how hard I cried.
Everytime I had something to share, I would go in my blanket and would talk to my blanket. It wasn’t that I was mad but it was that I preferred talking to it and share my things because I believed, my blanket understands me.
I remember, everytime mummy beat me, I would intentionally cry little more than anticipated 🙈. I would intentionally cry hard so that my mom would come to me and take me close, she never did.
I used to cry with a tone that one would think I’m gonna die ..hahahaha !!! Back then, I thought it was cool but then I realized that my nature never mattered. It never mattered how I was, it never mattered how awesome my behavior was, i was beaten up.
Don’t take it wrong, my mom is awesome, it’s just that I have accepted that no matter how hard I try, I would always be misinterpreted.
So every time my mom beat me, I would cry a bit, would sit with mom for a while, would expect her to take me close, I knew she won’t .. so got up and went to my blanket and hide in it.
I remember, everyday I went on my bed, I would pull it all over me and I would count the number of tiny little holes in it and would sleep counting them.