And I Lied…

An intense and passionate poem, by Meenakshi, that challenges social institutions, including marriage, exclusively for Different Truths.

When did these lies start?
Probably when the biscuits in the tin went missing
My mother asked me where did they go?
And I said, “I don’t know!”
And I lied
How do I explain to her the hunger I felt when I was sad and hurting?
How do I tell her that those biscuits saved my life and cheered me up when I had failed in my class test?

These lies grew with me
In college I lied that I was at college
When all I did was hang out outside
With my band of gangsters
Roaming the streets, laughing and having fun
When my father asked me, “How was college?”
I said, “It was great!”
And I lied
How do I explain to him that economics and maths made me cry
And my Law lecturer killed me each day with Sections and more Sections
How do I explain that I didn’t know why I was in college and what my life purpose was?

“Don’t you love me?” He asked me
“Not the way you do! You are my bestest friend and I don’t think I love you any other way!” I screamed
And I lied
How do I explain that I was afraid of being in love with the passion he loved me with!
How do I explain that I was unsure if I could fight for him with my family?
How do I explain that my love for him was so deep that I was afraid I would lose him and myself if I admitted it?

“Oh! You look so happy! You are so lucky to be married to him!”
Friends and family gushed
I said, “Oh yes! My husband and his family are wonderful!”
And I lied
How do I explain that the life I had known was no longer mine?
How do I explain that I was expected to be someone who is different from the one who walked through their doors?
How do I explain that I was happy because that was also expected of me?

When the family had eaten up all of the food, I had prepared
And they asked, “You haven’t eaten?”
I said, “Oh! No! I’m not hungry!”
And I lied
How do I explain that I am too tired to make any more?
How do I explain that I didn’t get the measure right?
How do I explain that some days I’m just weary and food is not my solace?

“I hope you are enjoying this!”
He whispered in my ear while he thrust himself over and over in me
“Oh! I love it!”, I said
And I lied
How do I tell him that I’m tired?
Tired of being this person who isn’t me?
Tired of being this person who has to endure that everyone is happy before she thinks of her own?
Tired that she is hollow in the inside, devoid of feelings and that nothing stirs her anymore…

“Are you happy?”
My mirror asks me
“Oh yes! I’m happy!” I answer
I lied
How do I tell you that the girl you knew once is dead and replaced with this old and greying woman, hollowed eyes and muddled mind, smiling through the pain, gritting through the anguish, living a life that is perfect for the others!
And I lie…

©Meenakshi

Photo from the Internet