Birthdays never had a special meaning for her. The burning towers on her cake served only to remind of the harm she had caused, the lives that were stolen to give birth to her. Every step she took in the muddy road of age dug a hole and swallowed her own pieces. “There is no use in struggling”, she was taught, “even if you do save the remaining, it’ll only cause you to sink”. So, as the time continued to march, she learned to leave pieces of her benignity behind, to perish in the swamp. The crumbs she dropped on the path were not meant to help her find way back home, she wanted to get lost, secretly aiming to break loose of the ropes that her mother held, to taste the fabled candy house. Yet, no matter how many sacrifices she was forced to make, her feet had touched the dirt once. The misdeeds of her mother ran down her legs smearing their sins all over. “What I do are, all for you.” she was told. Just like that, she took all on her shoulders and kept walking. Each step pulled her in, each year seeded more guilt into her soul.
Then finally, she wept when no one looked and declared:
“If you do anything that you shouldn’t I, mom, I’ll go to hell for you”.
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