What if I accidentally found out I was adopted and the people I called mother and father were not my real parents?
Well!! I certainly won't be shocked at first. Because when I was a kid, I used to think that maybe I'm adopted cause I didn’t resemble my mother at all.
My elder brother made it more complicated by saying stuff like, Mother picked you up from a corner of the temple stairs when you were 2 weeks old or a dump kid like you can't be my sister.
And I thought the same, if he was my real brother he wouldn’t say stuff like this.
He must have hated me at that time to say stuff like this.
At that time so many questions were fighting against each other in that tiny head of mine like, who are my real parents? And why did they throw me?
As my brother said, I'm dumb and no one wants a kid like me, is this the reason they throw me?
I was so depressed that I ran away from home one day. At that time I was only 9 years old.
But, after some hours my mother found me and the rest of the situation was history. Damn! My mother takes a very scary form when she hits her limit.
I promised myself on that day I won't ever dare not to run away from home even if I found out I'm really adopted.
Me being adopted will not put that much affect on my daily life with my family, because I'm not a family person. I don’t have any special bond with my family except my mother, she is amazing.
But of course there will be some moment when I'll go through an existential crisis.
I won't ever be excited for my birthday. How can I be, when I find out that I was abandoned on that day. I will not be able to see my birth certificate or any other documents like the way I used to see them. They will remind me that I've been living in lies throughout my whole life.
My knees will tremble when some random relative will tell me that my face resembles my father. My heart will ache every time whenever I remember that my brother was right with every word he said to me in the past and sometimes I'll let the aches turn into a scream. I don’t even know how to heal my wounds. I'll probably scorch them more while blowing my toxic sighs in darkness.
Sometimes I'll question myself what path I did walk on in the past and where am I standing now?
If my real parents appear in front of me, I don’t think anything will change. I've already been wounded and they have already abandoned me, so what's the point of seeking out them ? I would rather turn my body into a graveyard above the ground than listen to their stories.
Sometimes, some people and their stories need to be unknown.