What is wrong with me? (Part-1)

The view of the son

“Ahmad. It’s your turn.”

The teacher called me up to the stage. I gripped the paper tightly in my hands and cautiously made my way to the podium, making sure to not let a single step miss or turn topsy-turvy or to seem stupid and awkward. Though, to an audience member, I must have seemed like a penguin walking his way up to the stage as I walked with my legs not bending an inch.

The fear was real and so was this moment. It was finally my time to shine. I opened my mouth and came down Thor’s hammer and my mouth was sealed. Not a single word could escape my lips and my breathing became shallow and I swear to God I was about to faint till I heard my Mom whistle ever so loudly and scream, “ATTA BOY! THAT’S MY SON YA’LL!! WO HOO!!” Her cheer, though cringy and quite embarrassing brought me back to my senses and I was forced awake and restarted all my networks. Within minutes’ the whole hall was buzzing seeing the attention my Mom had managed to stir so to first grab everyone’s attention I did the “Hello. Check 123 123” which surprisingly worked quite well in my favor.

Times like these I thought to myself; times like these were when I could only truly appreciate my mom. Otherwise, if I’d even try to go near her she’d shush me up and shoo me away. It was only when I was at such a distance did Mom ever truly acknowledge me and I felt like her son otherwise she’d always kept me at an arm’s length never letting me near her even an inch and if I tried to force my way through she’d go and lock herself in her room. I expected her. No, that’d be wrong to say. I wanted her to touch me. To hug me. To kiss me. But no. Never. Not once. I never received love in a physical way from my mom. It was only when she had her back towards me or when she couldn’t see my face or when I was at a distance from her that she actually acknowledged me as a son and not an object. Something meant to love and not to hate. Something she could give words of acknowledgment and confidence with just a few screams. Whispers were also a no seeing my Mom didn’t like me near her.

I seriously do not know. Maybe she has an allergy. But she hugs everyone else so why only me? I touch the other kids and hug them. I sometimes kiss them on the cheek when elated and they don’t seem to get the disease that Mom seems so afraid of contracting from me. I wonder what’s wrong with me. I wonder why my Mom doesn’t like me. Maybe I’m adopted? Is that the truth? But everyone says that my physique is just like my mom. Being her son my body has the exact same shape and size as she did when my Mom was a teenager. So what is the problem?

Ah God. My mom’s all good and everything but I wonder why she hesitates to shower her love unto me…

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