Kaviru Samarawickrama
I will start with the closet which – as some of you may know – is my den.
And mother, it’s off limits.
I think you will genuinely regret the corpses of memories I hide in there.
This entire room is my palace. I eat, sleep, have conversations with boys.
These walls are my evidence,
But don’t take advantage of what I tell you, mother.
I tell you because you’re worried about my room.
I’m here to tell you, it’s organized.
The clothes are numbered in my head.
Some clothes have expiry dates after dates with boys:
So mother, you can throw those, only, if you like,
But they are at the very back of the closet, quite hard to reach.
I hope by the time you reach there, you will still remember I told you that history has no meaning to me.
That’s why they lie there at the back, mother.
The mess on the floor is not for you to clean.
It’s a representation of how my life actually is.
But since
Since you have a worried look on your face,
I will tell you – to make you feel better – that I don’t
Make bad decisions,
And that my life actually is perfect.
I only hope that you will hear in between the lines mother,
But I know that the first time you will trust my words and,
The second time you won’t,
So I will have patience till you ask me the next time.
I should say that some of the clothes out on the floor are not worn,
I took them out to try but I was in a hurry to meet this boy
And I forgot all the disciplinary procedures you had going on for me,
So I sincerely apologize.
The walls are covered in my talent.
You say it’s nice when I ask but I know you are worried about my sense of emotions.
Your sarcastic tone is hard to miss.
Know that I don’t know how to express my emotions
But I try to keep it on the walls and my sketchbooks
So that red paint won’t splatter on my wrists like my sister’s.
But other than that, I’m doing good, mother.
The mirror is a constant reminder of my beauty.
I know you say I’m the most beautiful girl in the world,
I look in all angles,
Even keep the mirror in different places,
But mother, the mirror lies to me some days.
I hope you know how much I appreciate and love you mother.
Because at the end of the day I know you will peek at the edges of the room,
To search for hidden suicide notes and whisky bottles.
I hope you know how much I love the presence of me
Because you are concerned about my wellbeing when no one else is.
I hope you know how much I love life but this,
This is only just a temporary phase that every girl goes through.
So mother, even if I tell you,
You won’t understand how younger generations work.
You won’t understand my room.
You won’t understand the organized mess.
You won’t understand the small gap between the back of my art canvas and the wall
Where I slid a photo of a boy I liked into.
You won’t understand the small gap between the closet and the wall
Where I spoke with a boy on the phone so you won’t hear the conversations.
You won’t understand the pain inside my closet
Where I drowned in alcohol on some days and spoke to myself and cursed,
Those boys I liked.
I know mother, I know you will be there for me,
But, not right now.
Those are all the things I can’t say to you,
But I will promise to say years from now when it will be a laugh.
So for now know that this room is my safe place.
I hope you don’t interfere.
I also hope you do.
Sincerely from,
The girl who doesn’t know what she needs,
But knows that her mother knows that.
