The Visit.

(A piece I wrote many years ago about a trip to India before the divorce, I decided to experiment a little with the style of writing, switching from 1st person to 3rd person to 2nd person).

Having spent several weeks already in the sweltering heat of Calcutta, the end of my visit was fast approaching. It had been a frustrating trip and I felt anxious to get home. Seeing my distant relatives has been hard. We are not close and I have always felt a barrier between us. Whether this is due to a difference in cultures and upbringing or because I had chosen an uncertain and dangerous path. They all hated him and had made that very clear to me. 

Her immature ideas and careless behaviour had led her to this point. She had isolated herself from the people who cared for her, who worried for her. Instead she began her destructive journey with this hateful man. She was not shy like her sister, she was outspoken and blunt, inadvertently insulting everyone in her cancerous path. She had no feeling for others, only herself. But nobody truly understood what the young girl carried on her shoulders, how could they? For they were not suffering from it, they were not the ones caught up in the tangled mess. The poor girl, still young at fourteen, having to drag around so much mental baggage. They could not and would not see her hurt or feel her pain for she did not always display it.

You should be strong and not concentrate on what they say. You chose this decision and you had every right to. It is your life after all. A rubbish one, a pitiful one, but yours. Do not be ashamed of the choices you make. Thank goodness you will be home in a matter of days and you will be able to relax. No more criticism, no more insults. Nobody to warn you or verbally punish you for thinking for yourself and expressing the way you feel. You will have your freedom back. At least for a little while.

 

I never did get that freedom back.

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