This one day me and my mum got into a huge fight. It was the biggest fight I’ve ever let myself into. I didn’t remember exactly how or why it started, but it lasted for half a day. We were yelling, screaming, and into each other’s throat for hours. So many hurtful words were being said. So many hidden thoughts and locked emotions finally came out. Smashed mirrors and bruised fists were both our witnesses. It was the longest and most exhausting day I’ve ever had. 

After hours of draining our energy, we stopped. As if our hearts were too hurt that there was no more room even for just one more cut. She was in my room, so I ran into hers and stayed there. I cried in silence. I didn’t understand why, I was far too young to understand why. I just cried and cried and cried until I passed out from exhaustion.

I woke up in the dark.

It was night time. And there was no lights from my mum’s room, no lights from the dining room, living room, or even my room. So I got up and turned them all on. I went to my room and turned on the light as well. And there she was, lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling with red eyes. I thought she was asleep, so I really didn’t know what to do when she turned her head and looked at me. I should’ve said something, but I looked away instead.

“Do you want to eat?” I asked her.

She didn’t say anything. Of course she didn’t say anything. What kind of person asks her mother if she wants to eat after hours of fight?

So I sit on the floor.

Then it was silence again, for who knows how long.

“Why don’t you love me?” She asked.

I was shocked. How could she asked me such thing? How could she even think about it? But I didn’t say anything in reply. I just sit there and remained silent.

I remember she used to call me as ‘heartless’. I was far too quiet as a kid. I never really cried when I was supposed to cry, I never really laughed when I was supposed to laugh. I never really told her that I loved her. I never even really cling onto her arms and did whatever the normal kid around me did. You’re cold, she once said to me.

She was right, and wrong. She was right, I’m cold. I’m not one to tell people how I actually feel. Never was, probably never will. But she was wrong for taking it as a form of not loving. I never said I loved her, but only because love is never the right word to express what she means to me. To say that I love her is an understatement. How. How should I make her understand that she’s the single most important thing in my life, that I’d take anything for her, that I will refuse to go to Heaven if she’s going to Hell. That’s not love, right? Love is way too cheap to describe the way I feel about her.

“Your father is gone. You’re the only one I have in this world. You’re the only reason why I’m still living, why I’m still breathing, why I’m still working, why I’m still trying.” She said again.

And then I heard her crying.

“Say something.”

I didn’t know what to say.

So I hugged her. I could tell she was trying to brush me off, but I didn’t let go. I hugged her tight, in hope that she would understand that I was sorry. In hope that she would feel the emotions I tried to tell her with that hug. I kept hugging her, and then after a while, I started to cry as well. I didn’t know how long that lasted, nor did I care.

Because in the end, I knew she understood my heart.

As I understood hers.

4 months ago with 32 notes 32 notes
tagged as: writing.