You gave birth to me, raised me, made me a human being, and loved me unconditionally. You told me all the good things about this world and the people around me. You taught me how I should never let others jeopardize my dreams, ambitions and how I should never be afraid of doing the right thing, even if it’s not in my favour. I remember this one day when I came back from school and seeing me, you asked, “what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” As if you just always know how I am feeling by looking at me. I was upset that day because of a test in which I did not perform well and you told me it does not matter, and that I will always get chances. You always know when I am sad, happy, angry, or afraid. You know all of me. You have always made me feel wanted and loved. On good days, you celebrated with me. On bad days, you cried with me. You taught me to be honest and truthful, always. But Mom, you always lied. You were not honest. You told me lies to make me happy. And today, when I look back, you were sympathizing with me.
When I was not invited to birthday parties, picnics, group study sessions, long drives, and trips, you told me that they probably were jealous of me. When I was not included in any of the group activities, you again said that they are probably jealous of me. When none of my friends wanted to hang out with me, you said they were probably jealous of me. You always said the same thing, they are probably jealous of me, always! And I kept wondering what it is that I have and they don’t. Every time you said they are jealous, they are not your friends, they don’t deserve you, I always believed it because you were the one saying it, mom. How could I not believe you! But at the same time, even though you always had my back, I still felt alone seeking refuge by trying to get involved with my friends, putting in efforts so that they acknowledge me, always hoping that may be, if they get to know me better, they would want to hang out with me and consider me as a friend. It has been ten years now, Mom: I did not reach anywhere.
And you still tell me the same thing: “they are probably jealous of you”. I want to believe you, mom. I did for ten years. But until recently, I realized something: the truth. The truth is that you always lied, they were never jealous. I want to know why you lied, but I won’t ask because I am not prepared to know the answer to this question, not in this life. But I want to tell you something. They weren’t jealous, Mom, they are good people. They were never jealous. Don’t be angry with them, they are still my friends, at least I acknowledge them as my friends.
Mom, you always worried about me being alone because of all these issues. But you can stop worrying now. I know everything now, all the reasons, everything. And you should now know it, too. They never invited me to any parties, they didn’t include me in anything they did, it wasn’t because they were jealous or they looked down on me, but because they didn’t need me, mom. It’s true. They never needed me. They did consider me a friend—I know that now but I just didn’t fit in. For years, I felt bad because I was putting in so much effort but wasn’t getting anywhere. And seeing me, you felt bad, too. I am sorry, mom, that you had to see me being so miserable. But no more disappointment.
It isn’t their fault they never saw me as one of them. No matter what I would have done, I wasn’t going to be included in any of it. It was decided long ago. If you are wondering how I felt about all this. I did feel bad. I felt miserably lonely. I didn’t go into depression, don’t worry. I am still sad, mom, because you lied to me. You knew it all along that they just didn’t need me and that I was unwanted. You should have told me. I know there were times when you did gather all your courage to tell your only child that she was unwanted by her friends, but you couldn’t. You love me too much to break my heart. I understand you mom. All those times when I came home crying, you cried too. All those times when I saw their group photos and became sad, you were sad, too. All those times when I was left alone, you felt lonely, too. All those times when I blamed myself for being so miserable, you blamed yourself too. I am sorry for being so miserable. It wasn’t right for you to see your child like this. You always taught me self-love, but I never learned it. I am sorry for realizing this late.
I am okay now. I have learned to love myself and be enough for myself. You don’t have to be worried anymore about me being sad because I am alone. Even though I am alone, I have learned to embrace it all. But mom, I won’t be able to forgive you so easily for lying. It will take some time—I hope you understand me and always be there for me as you were. All of this took so much for me that there are voids in my heart, I will fill them by loving myself. I have grown up, Haven’t I? Are you proud of me? I hope you will read this letter from up there. I wish I had written it sooner for you to read it when you were around, sitting right next to me eating ice cream in our drawing-room. I am sorry for being so late, mom. I miss you.
I love you, mom. I know you are happy looking at me from up there. I am sorry for not telling you how much I love you often. Thank you for everything, mom.