I wonder. If I have been a braver, tougher little girl and not a quiet, wet-blanket drop of sugar in the corner, maybe, I was a better, person. Strong. Tough. Demanding. And very much mature.
I wonder. If I faced all those girls torturing me with their existence with fierceness, would I be less afraid. Would I be less sensitive. Would I grow thorns and scales like they did, and would I hurt someone whose soul is identically like mine; afraid, bruised and eager to run away?
I wonder. If my mom was less in-control of everything, if I had the freedom to choose my way, if I have seen my options of who I am to become without the chains of restraints; perhaps I am more than just a normal face in the crowd. I’d be soaking in my own career and busy growing up and growing rich.
I wonder. If I did not choose the kind, geeky, invisible friends I had since high school, would I find the real meaning of friendship? Will I be able to enjoy anything other than the quiet moments and the snickering behind a Pea-brained teacher who’s actually a genius? Will I find a spot somewhere in the girly, popular club instead of the gloomier art club I am in? I already have the answer.
I wonder. If all the trauma in my youth did not happen, will I be happier? Will I be at peace? Will I be living a good life without knowing the presence of death looming over anytime? Death is such a good reminder to live.
I wonder. If I have seen my ghosts in the earlier part of my life I could have done many things. I could have psycho-analyzed the whys and hows. Heck, I may not even question anything. Just because simply, I understood everything can’t be understood.
I wonder. If I had held the many hands that reached out to mine, I’d probably be living a normal married life, with three kids and a little funny house. Plus a man to call a husband.
I wonder if things were different. If something changed earlier down the road of my life’s journey. I wonder where will I be.
Definitely not in this place. In this little room. In this little, four-walled room with a laptop in front and a piano behind. With lots of books in the shelf, lots of boxes of clothing, and lots of time to daydream, to hum and write. I will not be here, imagining dreams bigger than my little heart could carry. I will not know how weak, terribly frightened and useless I am. I will not know how great, loving, forgiving my Father is.