When my mother was seven months pregnant, I felt all the pain, all the hopelessness of being in this world. I cried out to my mother not to have me in this world. I was already exhausted from lying down and feeling all the hardships of life, all the days when my mom was sick. She cried and suffered. If this is what life is like, this is not the life I want. I don’t want to be like my mother – miserable. I wish that I had never been able to feel all the bitterness, all the coldness that Mom felt. But two months later I was dragged out of my mother and put into little clothes and told: – Jack! – told me to sit quietly, and suck the pacifier.
They pinched my cheeks, and I was in pain. The pain, how sad I was, how lonely I was, no one understood me. And then… every day for month after month, it became normal, something like breathing. I began to get used to their hands. To the pain. To the sadness and loneliness. The incomprehension. – Mom? – When I said her name, she smiled and rejoiced. I know that feeling, it’s nice and cozy for Mom. I often began to speak in a way that made her feel good. I didn’t want to see her cry.
I lived only for that – to see Mom’s smile and the joy of her lonely soul. We don’t have a daddy. He went far, far away. Where I came from. To heaven. But that’s okay, he’ll be reborn as a new boy, someone’s favorite son or daughter. He’ll see his mother’s smile. And he’ll want to give her a smile every day. If it wasn’t for my mom, I wouldn’t want to walk the earth. I only walked the earth for her. Reaching out and smiling, whispering her name and begging for a hug.
But one day she changed: screaming at me, hitting me, hurting me. I don’t know why she did that… I love her, why is she doing this? Why does she hit me… Probably calling her name a lot. I started crying a lot in pain and wanted her to stop hurting me. But the more I cried, the more she hit me. I was only two years old. I could already walk and followed my mother everywhere. I asked for food. I need to eat a lot, I wanted so much.
She just didn’t understand and got mad all the time. One day we were walking in the street and crossing the street. I was running after my mom, my mom was walking in front. I couldn’t keep up with her with my tiny legs. A big man in a car ran over me and I fell. It didn’t hurt me at all. I lay there smiling. Laughing. – Mama, Mama… – I whispered. She ran up to me. It got so cold. My legs became cold. I couldn’t feel them. And my hands didn’t move. So many people gathered around me.
They were holding their heads and crying. What happened? – Jack… – my mother whispered, and for the first time in days she hugged me and cried. These are tears of pain. I have often seen them. But why was she crying? I did not know that. She was crying so hard. It had never been like that before. Don’t cry mother… I thought she would never stop. Oceans of tears. And then my eyes started closing. The last thing I wanted to do was fall asleep. But I did fall asleep. The last thing I heard before I left were my mom’s words: -I’m sorry.
