I am a 24 year old married woman, currently putting up in a metropolitan city.
Almost a decade back, when I was a teenager, I got into few relationships with guys. Strangely, they didn’t bring the expected happiness one longs in a relationship. The physical intimacy made me even more awkward. I distinctly remember that my first kiss was an utter disaster. It was a very confusing time for me. Desperate for some answers, I resorted to internet. I came across various communities whilst I tried to search for my own answers. I had this certain attraction towards girls but since LGBT was a subject of sins in my society, I never really tried to approach any girl openly. I was about fifteen then. For a year, the confusing turmoil of emotions got the better of me. I couldn’t understand my own sexuality properly because face it, no one had really broached such subject ever. However, finally I realized I was a lesbian.The realization was not as terrifying as was the confession.
For almost a decade, I have battled with multiple bouts of depression. I have been forced into a heterosexual marriage despite my violent struggles and desperate pleas to my parents. I have been brainwashed and manipulated numerous times. The battle to survive in a heterosexual world for people like me is terrifying. Today, I have gathered up some courage to come out, albeit anonymously to cry few tears.
This confession is to all those ‘dear ones’ who chose their honour and stereotypes over my life and my sanity. The ones whom I trusted the most and was instead back stabbed by them brutally.
Dear Best Friend,
I called you my best friend for a reason. I was just sixteen when I could no longer take those stifling secrets of mine. I chose you as my confidant because I believed you would understand me the best. I remember we were in the school ground. I had called you saying that I wanted to share something important and personal and how excited you were to know about it. We were sitting under that old tree and I quietly told you. Oh how you were shocked and backed away from me. It hurt me, a lot. I pleaded you to not to tell it to anyone. You just stared. As I later came to know through whispered rumours, that you had told people that I had a crush on you and that I wanted to propose you. I only told you because I trusted you. Nevertheless, I became an outcast in my own school, that ‘weird’, ‘queer’ girl who couldn’t fit anywhere. Thank you for that, dear best friend. I have stopped making friends since then.
We were fairly close. You noticed my sad silences. It had been almost six months since my confession to her. I had taken science stream. Perhaps, as you concluded, the studies were taking a toll on me.
Something in your tender voice broke me. I burst out into tears. It had been six months since someone was really concerned about me. Maybe that was the reason I told you about my big secret, in between my choking tears. You are three years older to me. I felt my big brother would protect me, understand me.
At least you didn’t back away in disgust. You listened to me quietly. I felt a bit happy in months. You went out to tell mother. I was scared, yes, but I thought you would handle it better than me. You told her that I must have gotten into some wrong company to have such confused thoughts.
Dear big brother, I lost my “wrong company” six months back. That day, I lost my brother as well.
You summoned me, in a hush-hush manner so that father couldn’t overhear us. You told me that (yes I remember your exact words, they still have the power to hurt me) I was a “r*ndi” (slut) who couldn’t do better than just ogling at girls and sharing such “ghinauna” (disgusting) stuff to a boy.
No mother, I wasn’t a slut to like girls. Your words drowned me into depression for more than six months. My grades went downhill and I barely passed in my subjects. You used to accompany me to tuitions because you thought I would get out of your hands. Mother, you words had already imprisoned me into depression.
As for sharing such “disgusting stuff” to a “boy”, he was my brother, not some stranger. To whom else did you want me to go?
Anyhow dear mother, thank you for killing my innocence.
We have been married for three years now. You still don’t understand why I don’t enjoy the sex. Oh how I want to tell you that it’s the arm of a woman I crave and not a man’s.
So yes dear husband, you have been raping me for last three years. I was wedded to you in a state of depression. I was just 21 when I was forced to marry you because my parents were eager to get rid off their odd, spoilt, characterless child.
I am afraid that if I confess this to you, what will your reaction be? Anger? Hate? Disgust? Divorce? A beating?
I am a jobless woman with no financial support from anywhere. I cannot get out of this nightmare willingly and thus I’m putting up with it. But dear husband, hopefully one day I will.
Dear all, you were my world. Yet here I am, a 24 year old outcast, depressed, raped r*ndi who is slowly dying from inside. Are you happy now? Do you feel blessed that you killed a friend, a sister, a daughter, a wife, a human being?
Editor’s Note: This confession was provided us to one from one of our brave heart audiences. We feel privileged to bring out the tears from the dark corners of one’s life to this platform so that every cry, every plea is heard. We look forward to such more confessions. Kindly step forward and share your story with Upside Me so that it does not go into vain.