Last week, the ghadat opened a memory box that I had almost forgotten. While its made me pretty sad, I can't help and marvel at how far I have come.
The memory box was a little sketchy, in that it plays bits and pieces that overlap and blur and still cut like knives.
When I tell people that I grew up poor and still have that mentality, I don't think they understood. Not that I ever explained it.
But after my dad has his toe amputated for gangrene. we didn't have much money. I remember exchanging cool drink bottles for cash for veggies to cook.
So poor, that when I was in agony because of teeth issues, the thing I remember was it was cheaper to extract than fix (fix meant multiple visits - that we couldn't afford.)
So poor that I cleaned my cousins house for money (she was a year younger than me)
look at me, Ms Digital Marketer with her own car, and poor person metality and look at how far you've come.
I never want to forget again.
I remain under a dark cloud, and the melancholy remains.