THE DIARY OF A 20 YEAR OLD - VI

I HATE SHARING!

 

I was 9 years old when I saw a friend of mine using my pencil which my dad gifted me on my 8th birthday. I never used it. Something in me made me run towards her. I snatched away my pencil and broke it into as many pieces as possible. My friend saw me with horror. She picked up her bag and shifted to another bench. She never talked to me again. I regretted of acting so miserably rude. I changed my school soon. I don't remember much about that girl now except that she was really a good friend of mine.

My mother gifted me a tiny brother when I was 12 years old. It made me enrage with anger when I saw my mother kiss my brother and feed him. She scolded me often and I had to share my toys against my will. I hate the tiny beast (I thought). I hated my mother for sharing her love that earlier belonged to me only. I laugh aloud now thinking of how immensely crazy I was. I love my brother more than anything incredible!
I am writing this not because I regret about how I was; but because I have not changed a lot since then. There are still many circumstances which arise daily when I have to share my belongings with my friends , relatives and strangers without my will.
But am I really writing this only because I am jealous often when I see my things in hands except my? Not really! There is something which is terribly disturbing me from within. There has to be something serious and logical.
It was the day I entered my college. It was the greet of a tall handsome guy that started all the hazardous miseries in my college life. I have always been a soothing and sensible kiddo of my parents and my teachers in school. But there was something infectious in that ''hi'' which smashed my life into bits. I soon fought with my boy friend and destroyed the relationship I always wanted to be since the last 3 years. I was bound in a feeling which never was a friendship but I was afraid of calling it love. Why?
Alas! That was the worst thing I ever did to myself. The tiny creepy feelings that already managed to infect my heart were hazardous and life threatening.
I soon realized I was sharing him with another girl. whoa! It was she or me. I knew it. I let it be her. I respected her. She loved him more than I did. I wanted him to be happy. He was happy with her.
:)

Soon this feeling dropped down to pure friendship which soon got engulfed in the hatred I developed for him ; I am afraid ; I don't know why I hate him. We don't talk. I don't know why but I fail to be the natural me in his presence. Its disturbing and irritating. Still I love to be around him. Its freaking and crazy.

But true enough, I won't ever  learn to share things! ('_')

 And if I talk with attitude- ''I  prefer donating than sharing! ''

 

 ('_')....('_')('_')