Life without Full Stops

By Garima Dixit

These days I have been researching Marfan Syndrome, a chronic disease affecting connective tissues. It was already seven in the morning, but it seemed like the sun was still sleeping. As I walked out onto my balcony with my coffee, the sky was dark, and the weather was pleasant. 

The last time I slept was two days ago, so I was exhausted. The blanket was still covering Avi, so I stepped into it and held him tight to feel the warmth and sleep. He hugged me back and his soft lips gently touched my forehead.  Memories of my past flooded my mind as I fell asleep in his arms.

Having reached 7th grade, Abhya Sinha realized she was still alive and needed to prove her existence in this world filled with billions of other creatures. "Abhya get out of your room; you are climbing over my head with each passing day," my mother screamed. I was annoyed. She never realized I was a teenager, and I also had some desires. 

I think I know what is suitable for me. My parents didn't have to tell me every step, but they restricted me from everything I wanted. "Don't cross your limits, I'm telling you. As your brain has stopped working, it has gained weight. You are the oldest in the family. You are supposed to act responsibly. Do you even care about yourself or your family?" after a pause, "Abhya I'm talking to you." she continued. I thought silence was a better response than arguing back. So I walked back to my room and closed my eyes.

Screaming at the top of my lungs would make me feel better. But I can't. In my anger, I scratched myself and sobbed, telling myself everything would be alright. Years passed, and so did life. My feelings were not shared with anyone. I was still the same. As a child, I piled my feelings up to avoid hurting anyone. Despite feeling broken, I had to concentrate on my studies and be happy. I had everything I needed to be satisfied; this is what I've always been told. 

Life might be even ruder in the future, so I must always smile. It might make others jealous.

"But why must I deal with all the chaos in this house? I'm not a robot; even I need a break.", my mom yelled. "It's not always you. I earn. Despite my busy schedule, I am trying to help you. I prepared breakfast yesterday," my dad responded angrily.

(I'd like to know what else I need to make myself happy early in the morning.) The arguments they had over useless topics always made me feel like a worthless child who couldn't even help her parents. It felt like I was the reason they argued every time. I tried to control my anger and so rushed to the bathroom. 'What a relief! The house is always noisy and chaotic, but it is a pleasant place to be. I doubt that God will ever allow me to explore heaven. It's like heaven for me in the bathroom.', I told myself.

"Love! How do you feel now?" Avi asked. "I'm better, but I want to stay like this for a long time," I replied softly. Afterward, he hugged me tightly and gently kissed my forehead and cheeks. It helped me overcome a worthless dream.

"Life is a mystery, isn't it?" I asked. "It seems you are more mysterious than life," he replied. "Your work ethic is frustrating, Abhya. Why do you work so hard? Relax. Life is too pretty. Feel it," he added. He had no idea what I was thinking.

 Usually, I would have told him, but it was already eleven when I looked at the clock.

Avi walked out of the blanket. I followed him. We brushed our teeth and got ready for another working day. Each time I realized I had wasted half a day, I thought of what my dad used to tell me. He always wanted me to be ahead of time so that I could enjoy every moment. Growing up, I always hated the constant nagging of my parents. 

But now I have realized they genuinely wanted my best (but I guess they were more like Hitler).

"You're pretty. I'll be back soon. I love you," he whispered as he left for work. 

I was stuck in my past for the entire day and couldn't get out of it. I returned to my desk and picked up my pen to consider my next move. As I picked up my pen, I remembered an awful and childish idea.

As far as I remember, I was in sixth grade then. As a student, I used to despise social science because we were supposed to write long answers to each question. It was boring. Before the summer break, our teacher rushed through the syllabus, and we were supposed to write the answers she dictated. My hands started hurting because I was moving so fast. I came up with the idea of an automated pen because of this pain. It was supposed to behave as I write with a regular pen.

 My poor state of mind at that time was something I could not even describe because that could never be possible. Could a pen write voice commands given by a human without touching it? This made me laugh at my imagination power. Then I continued my work until Avi was back home. We had dinner and decided to go for a walk. We talked and laughed. It was 1:26 in the morning. He kissed me, and I slept like a baby dreaming about a life without full stops.

By Garima Dixit