Ben was not in the mood to work today, he was cowering in bed trying to find solace from the silence of his room, trying to keep himself from absolute obscurity, straining to forget about what happened yesterday. Yes, yesterday could be the worst ordeal he had to endure on his painful journey of emancipation, through years of abuse, of being a prisoner of his own character.
He sobbed like a small child, deprived of innocence and the right to choose, the right to love, the right to be his own self, the severity of his anguish is already boundless without adding a layer of guilt and decadence. He started crying. His tears of sadness and turmoil fell from his weary and defeated eyes, the little pride left on his scarred soul slowly disintegrated, vanishing with myriad of torment and secrecy.
So what if I have a heart of a woman?
I am human too.
Why can’t I be myself?
Why can’t I feel normal?
Why do I have to pretend?
Why do I have to hide?
Why do I have to be scared?
Why do I have to be humiliated?
Why can’t they see my heart?
why do I have to be an outcast?
Am I a disease?
Am I an abomination?
Am I a curse?
He whispered between endless sobs. But there was no answer, not even a hint of rejuvenation or hope or pillar. The world didn’t answer. He received no answer. The world stayed silent and still, but it gave him a condescending smile, a look of disgust and scorn, a vague look of understanding. Ben screamed, he kicked and punched and clenched his teeth, for he knew , he knew what the world meant, he knew.
“Be yourself. Come out, but the moment you shut that closet door, we will show you what hell looks like, and boy, it’s going to be ugly, and you will never come out of it alive” – The World.