Can I Confess?

It’s difficult to write this down, I seldom leave my soul bare, but this is necessary, this is imperative, this is of absolute importance.

Every day of my waking life, every second of my slumber, I am haunted; haunted by my mistakes. Mistakes that should not have been committed. I’ve never been adept at showcasing my emotions, especially when it comes to random acts of kindness or even demonstrating a bit of familial love. But when you were ill, when you needed me the most, when I should have been by your side… I wasn’t. And this hurts me till date. I’ve let you down completely. I know you never would have done the same with me. You were always the ‘big brother’, ready to help me when I needed you, ready to step up and take care of me. But sadly, I could not reciprocate. I stayed away during your years of illness, I stepped back and let everyone else nurse you. Oh what was I thinking?

I’m sorry.

Through three and a half years of misery, pain and unbearable depression you hankered on, often alone. You lost your mind, your peace and happiness, and I just happened to steal some more. I sat by you, aloof and distant, blabbering words that were hollow and harsh; no real kindness, no real feelings, not even for you, dada. You were and still are the light of my life, no one else. I just couldn’t say it. Such a coward.

I should’ve said something earlier, done so many things when you were here, but all I could do was avoid your eyes and pretend to be buried in my work. Purging myself of my sins is not easy, heck, I know I can never forgive myself. I know I can’t ask for yours, I only seek your presence. I have never uttered this to anyone, I can never get myself to spill to mum and dad, and I’m sorry, that’s all I can say, and yes, try to be a better person.

There’s so much you imparted in me, my taste and choices in many things are mere reflections of yours. I miss you. I love you. We’ve never said this too. We’ve always had our guards up, never let the real us through, never let each other know how hurt we were or even how much love bubbled over. Mostly anger was expressed purely. We never hid that. We brandished it grandly. But even in that, we searched for love.



Even though this post has been written as part of Blogchatter’s ongoing prompt, ‘Can I Confess’, this should have been up much before. Thank you Blogchatter for providing the starting point.


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