When my mother was seven months pregnant, I felt all the pain, all the hopelessness of existence in this world. I shouted to my mother that she should not give birth to me. I was already tired of lying there and feeling all the hardships of life, all those days when my mother felt bad. She cried and suffered. If that’s what life is like, I don’t want that kind of life. I don’t want to be like my mother – unhappy. I want to never feel all that bitterness, all the cold that my mother felt. But two months later I was dragged out of my mother’s arms and dressed! – I was told to sit quietly and suck the pacifier.
They pinched me on the cheeks, and it hurt. Pain, how sad I am, how lonely I am, no one understands me. And then… every day for month after month, it became normal, something like breathing. I started to get used to their hands. To the pain. The sadness and the loneliness. To the misunderstanding. – Mom? – When I said her name, she smiled and rejoiced. I know this feeling, it is pleasant and cozy for my mother. I often started to speak so that she felt good. I did not want to see her tears.
I lived only for this – to see my mother’s smile and the joy of her lonely soul. We have no dad. He went far, far away. Where I came from. To heaven. But it’s okay, he will be reborn as a new boy, someone’s favorite son or daughter. He’ll see his mother’s smile. And he will want to give her a smile every day. If it were not for my mother, I would not want to walk the earth. I walked on the earth only for her sake. To stretch my hand and smile, whisper her name and ask for her hug.
But one day she changed: she shouted at me, beat me, hurt me. I don’t know why she did that… I love her, why does she do that? Why does she beat me … I probably call her name a lot. I started to cry a lot from pain and wanted her to stop hurting me. But the more often I cried, the more often she beat me. I was only two years old. I could already walk and ran after my mother everywhere. I asked for food. I needed to eat a lot, I wanted so much.
She just did not understand and was angry all the time. Once we were walking on the street and crossed the road. I was running after my mother, my mother was walking ahead. I could not keep up with her with my tiny legs. A big man ran over me in a car and I fell down. I was not hurt at all. I was lying there and smiling. I was laughing. – Mom, mom … – I whispered. She ran to me. It was so cold. My feet were cold. I could not feel them. And my hands were not moving. So many people gathered around me.
They were holding my head and crying. “What happened, son…” my mother whispered, and for the first time in many days she hugged me and cried. These were tears of pain. I saw them often. But why is she crying? I did not know that. She was crying so hard. She had never cried like that before. Don’t cry mom… I thought she would never stop. Oceans of tears. And then my eyes started to close. The last thing I wanted was to fall asleep. But I did. The last thing I heard before I left were my mother’s words: – I’m sorry.
