We need to talk

Daunting. Even the thought of it. You contemplate over and over.. consider and reconsider, again and again, if you really REALLY need to talk. I don’t want to nag him too much, you thought. What if he finds me annoying? What if it’s all just in my head? What if I’m just overthinking things? What if I’m just being too sensitive? Maybe it’s the time of the month. Yeah. Maybe it’s my shedding uterus talking. She needs to shut it.

So you shut it.

The voice is still there though. Through many many moons later, the voice is still there. It didn’t go down the stream along with the uterus lining.

It builds up somewhere inside.. little by little.. agglomerating to a loud cry. Sometimes, or most, with tears. Sadly, even the cry and the tears are seldom there. It’s just.. silence.

The mother knows, though. She knows. It’s a familiar face. A familiar silence. She knows it too well.

Karma, she said. You need to stop it before it’s too late. You have daughters now. Don’t be like me. Don’t let your daughters be like you. Stand your ground, speak up.

But.. how do you speak up? Where does one even begin?

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