Diaries: Chapter two
I know that Jonah was a young kid, and I know that kids aren’t, at any case, murderers or haters, and I know that he didn’t hate me because of a fault that I had committed against him or slip-ups I had done. Come on, I couldn’t walk or speak. How could I commit anything? And I know that we were both suffering from similar circumstances, but I don’t know why he thought of hating me, why he thought of killing me, why he should pass all anguish to me, why I should drink from the same toxic glass, and why I am coerced to be this loathed Elizabeth, and I really don’t know why he didn’t try to love me. I may support him and help him with his life. I don’t knoww why he preferred hate and killing to loving and sharing troubles with me, and why he was afraid of telling his truth in order to get some support. But I think that he had his OWN reason. Maybe it’s because my parents thought of Jonah’s birth as the most execrated mistake They had ever done.
My mother and father didn’t love each other at all, and my mom was coerced into this marriage, as she wanted to escape her family’s ignorance… she hoped to get her salvation ticket from the daily torture she receives in the home. She also sought what she really needed and didn’t have in her home: wealth and welfare. And this seemed affordable for a rich man like my father. My father, a forty-year-old man who is diagnosed of chronic diseases, felt being obliged to this marriage, too, as he demanded a beautiful lady, my mother, to only gratify himself without committing sins (Job well did! You didn’t commit a single sin to commit multitudinous sins!). Also, he wanted someone who would care about him, and he craved a child to prevent his brothers from inheriting him. This seemed like a vile business deal: I will save you from your loathed home and give you some money, and you are going to prevent my brothers from inheriting me and satisfy my lustful nature.
Literally speaking, my mother was sold. My father paid a lot of money and jewelry to my grandfather in order to have his agreement on this marriage proposal, then my grandfather forced my mom to break up with her lover and marry my father.
Jonah was abhorred from my both parents, my father’s siblings, and my mother’s siblings. And I think you know that my parents detested him because he was the only reason for them to live together and my sister’s and my existence. My father’s siblings were paupers (but my father was rich because he was only working in Dubai), and they really coveted my father’s wealth, and Jonah deprived them of all these exquisite dreams.
My mother’s siblings had only girls, and only my mother had the boy, the beautiful boy from the first pregnancy. I should admit, Jonah was beautiful. Seems Ok, yes? but for an ignorant community like theirs, it was a disaster not to have girls, as girls as always are considered as a shame. Thus, they thought that my mother went to a sorcerer and asked him to prevent all women in her family from boys.
Jonah was despised since the softness of his nails without any reason. He faced a lot, and he used this experience against me. But I think he got bored of being the victim all the time, and he started to act as the guilty since my birth, and he really was proficient. We are all victims of other victims.
Yet, this is not an acceptable justification!!
That’s enough about Jonah. I have given you the thing you need about Jonah without any prejudice or modifications to make you see the picture clearer. And now, let’s discuss my part… let’s talk about my influenced-by-Jonah life.
I grew in my home, surviving death two times and bearing all that mentioned above. I was a very normal girl who didn’t, at all, understand the struggles between my parents, why my mother was always sleeping on the ground, and why my brother was always breaking all my toys, but I was always feeling terror. I had heard a lot of weird sentences that I couldn’t understand at all:
My father: “I think that it’s my right to make you sleep in our bed, not the ground!”
My mother: “I want to end this gloomy life. I hated you and hated your life”
My father: “Hey! Let Elizabeth cry and come to my room NOW!”
My mother: “I can’t bear this. I don’t want to do it anymore!”
I had these girl and innocent interests of making pink always involved in my dress code, drawing my country’s flag, monuments, and some sketches that are illustrating poorly-drawn characters, and wishing to be this Alice in Wonderland or this long-hair princess in “Tangled,” but, all these wishes were gone with my first Jonah’s gift for my sixth birthday: my nickname, “the nauseating.”
Jonah kept calling me with this nickname until I felt that’s my real name is “the nauseating,” not Elizabeth. He used to tell anyone who meets me for the first time about this nickname, supporting this claim by providing evidence. He used to tell them that I wet my bed every day, and he was making fun of my scruffy and baggy clothes, and he was alarming all to avoid being near me because my hair that’s full of lice might infect them. I really didn’t want to be this nauseating girl, but I had no care from my mother, and I was always afraid of Jonah, People’s eyes, and tomorrow… where I may meet a new one, and he is going to tell all about these nauseating things. Jonah did alienate me, and he didn’t want anyone to love me, thinking that he may grab all the attention back to him again. This was obvious in my school, as he told all my schoolmates about me, and he used to find out new techniques of practicing bullying against his sister.
In school, my classmates sent me to the back of the class, avoiding all my disgusting effects and the lice’s possible infection, and I had no friends or could make any friends. My schoolmates’ parents told their kids to avoid me: I am a student who is sitting alone, wearing scruffy clothes, had lice in her hair, isn’t clean, introverted, and doesn’t participate in sessions. These all might influence their children and make them like me. Being hating and avoiding me, the children thought of making fun of me, and Jonah supported them. He taught them this cursed poem:
The nauseating is sitting there;
she has a disgusting hair;
All must avoid her.
The nauseating is sitting there;
her clothes are scruffy,
and she is uglier than our bulldog Murphy.
The nauseating is sitting there;
she is crying all day
and childishly causing dismay.
We wish she dies Today;
we will be happy and say Hooray.
Reading the last verse, I presume that this poem is chilly for young kids. But I know that they really didn’t know what this means, and I know that the only thing they know that they know that the song, or the poem, is hurting me and making them laugh.
This poem ruined my childhood. I wish I died that “Today”. But you know? it’s not my fault to have a careless mother. I know she is suffocating; however, letting me be the nauseating and not blaming Jonah is not the “solutions” for her disastrous problems. This nickname wasn’t Jonah’s only gift, as he used to give me long-term gifts… a daily dose of depression and crying. What a gentle Bro!
I remember who painful it was when Jonah pulled me from my long hair, and I remember how scary it was when he locked me in my room, prohibiting me from Sponge Bob Square Pants, and I remember that he was doing this daily. I remember that he was saying “Good Morning to me” after taking a photo of my wet bed. He had a special album of these photos that were shared with my classmates, my relatives, and anyone who could love me, telling them about my nickname and singing this poem. I also remember that he didn’t feel satisfied my ruining my self-confidence in the class by this nickname. Generous, Bro!
Jonah used to visit me in my class to tell my classmates about “Elizabeth’s new jokes.” He had taught them how to make fun of me and how to make me silent all the time. Through intruding into my life and knowing every single thing about me, Jonah divulged all my embarrassing secrets, and I felt that I am like a secret office whose key is in its keylock. Jonah worked hard to destroy me in the class to prevent me from making any friends in my first year of school.
I know that Jonah wanted to revenge for himself, as he was fed up with the role that amiable, heartbreaking victim. I know how excited he was about being the criminal! And I know that he was working passionately to replicate his childhood with his own touches that is full of antagonism.
Jonah made me forsaken, introverted, antisocial, hated, disgusting, and afraid!
And all what happened next was only some hopeless solutions for the problem.
For a child who bore all these tragedies and didn’t get any piece support, I demanded something that could help me forget… something that I could pour all my anger inside without hearing any yells, screams, or weeps… something that’s not weak like me. And it was Food. Food is my solution to end any sadness tormenting my mind or hardening my heart, as I used to overeat until I feel that I am going to faint. Overeating would make me think only about getting rid of these huge amounts of food inside my belly and forget about all my problems. Not only that, food, for me, was a method of revenge. I usually imagined Jonah as these fragile biscuits. I used to put these biscuits inside the very hot tea (Torture), wait for them to sink in the cup (Dying), then take them out of the cup and throw them in the nearest rubbish bin (Letdown and hatred). But this didn’t seem great all the time, as I was putting on weight, squandering my perfect body and the fast speed that always made me win any race and my health. I started to collapse…
Three years after…….
I didn’t only gain some weight, but I also got a special gift for my ninth birthday: Diabetes. Now, I have a reason for not joining activities in my school, not going there and here, and being only in my home without doing anything. Thanks, God! But I had no reasons for feeling ashamed without doing any shameful thing, and I had no reasons for getting these hurting injections, and hearing my parents cursing life and circumstances whenever they see me. And with diabetes, new ornate presents were gifted to me from Jonah.
Jonah wasn’t a miser at all. He used to feed me his daily meal of loathing to be replete until he cooks up another meal, as whenever I feel hungry for depression, I will receive my meal. Thus, being diagnosed with diabetes – because of the obesity caused by depression – wasn’t enough for such a generous person. He really wanted to put his creative touches and give me his usual, special gift… another reason for despising him, agonizing from life, and crying. He gave me a new nickname: the fatso. And he gave me a new poem:
Run. Run. Run… Escape the fatso;
She is big as elephant;
Her belly is enormous.
You may think that she is pregnant;
beside her, you are a poor ant.
Her face is ugly;
She is nasty like a monkey.
Run. Run. Run… Escape the fatso;
She is disgusting and fat.
When she runs, she causes horrible splat.
Yesterday she was the nauseating,
Today, she is the nauseating fat!
Run. Run. Run… Escape the fatso!
A new nickname and a new poem mean a new stage of depression and suicidal thoughts… another disease that will ruin the last remaining thing of my life.
I was very fat, and I didn’t know why. But with this poem and Jonah’s daily does, I started to figure out my horrible condition. I started to hate myself and my body, and I lost the last bit of self-confidence. I became uglier than before: someone with big buttocks, cheeks, and belly. Not enough for someone failed to kill me!
Jonah didn’t only bully me in the home, but he also made fun of me, using really funny methods, in family gatherings and the school. He wanted to destroy me, and I really remember the three stabs that made my heart bleed silently.
One day, I entered my class where I saw all my classmates pointing and laughing at me. They were signing that poem. I didn’t realize why they were pointing at me until I saw the board. It was before the starting of the first session by 10 minutes, thus no teachers or anyone is supervising. Jonah was using the computer that was showing a video on the board:
(A black background with a white text)
Once upon a time, there was a big elephant.
This elephant was huge, and he used to eat every single thing in front of him.
(Then, the video showed my picture while I was eating, and a lot of Chocolate was inside my mouth.)
This elephant is called Elizabeth…………………
I couldn’t continue the video, and I escaped the class, feeling my warm tears on my cold cheeks, and ran to the nearest closet. When I reached, I looked in the mirror to see my sweet face. I saw my brown hair that tried to hug my brown tearful eyes. I was exhaling and inhaling sonically: a fat running for a long time without breaks. Then, I started to feel that I am losing my consciousness.
(No, No, No. I am not going to lose my consciousness and wake up in the hospital wondering about what happened, then receive mental support, then the story ends. But I always did that.)
This situation and this video made all my classmates afraid of me, and they looked at me as this gigantic elephant who would eat their breakfast, hurt them with her big hands, scare them with my ugly face, and chase them in their nightmares. So, they started to bully me (they thought that they should start before I do this), and they began to create their own jokes. Jonah was a just a stimulus, but he was the main reason and the most hated one!
This stab taught me how to escape, how to cry, and how to be alone with a reason, and it taught me to stay in the closet for a long time to escape the world and be with myself to talk, cry, or support myself.
Time passed… It’s Halloween, and my sister joined my school!
All girls were wearing awkward outfits: lovely Dora in a horrific cloak, Funny Patrick with scary teeth, pumpkin masks and grim reapers, and Witches. But I haven’t worn anything, as my normal clothes and my normal style were horrifying. The school had a special atmosphere, and the teachers were giving us candies and sweets for free. The school seemed to be a place for playing, tricks, and games, and I really liked this atmosphere – not for long.
I was walking with my younger sister, who was dressed like a witch, to my classroom, as there were a lot of candies and I hoped that she will take some of them. She was full of love and enthusiasm for this celebration, and I really felt glad for her sentiments. But all this was gone when I entered the classroom. I was shocked…
A giant poster featuring an unpleasant photo of a dirty pig was put on the wall, and it was surrounded by a horde of students, and it had a severe caption:
“Exclusive photos for Elizabeth Stewart. Copyrights are reserved.”
I, as always, collapsed and headed to the closet, but this time something different happened. My sister ran to the poster, cut it was her little fingers, and stared at the students like if she was telling them to stop doing this. Then, she ran to the closet to talk and support me, and we had a talk that changed my concepts about the world:
Anna: “Elizabeth, why are they bothering you? Did you do anything wrong?”
Me: “Actually, I don’t know why they are doing this, but I know that we still young kids, and we don’t know what’s right and wrong. So, they aren’t meaning to insult or defeat me. They are just having fun but in a wrong way. You can ask JONAH! He may tell you what is going on!”
Anna: “Jonah? I don’t like him. I sometimes feel that I hate him. Don’t be sad, please. They are all bad boys. Please, don’t be sad at all. I love you, and I will help you with Everything, Elizabeth!”
I started to cry; and immediately, Anna hugged me and patted my back and shoulders, saying with her soft, sympathetic “Shshshs… Everything will be ok.” Then, I begged her: “Anna, please, don’t let me alone. I really need you by my side. I need love. Promise me.”
Anna: “I promise you.”
Then, she squeezed me in her arms, then I felt that I am full of love and hope only. Sorry, Anna for everything I did against you. I really love you, but you did some mistakes.
Now, I had no solution to end this. Only one thing that may end this life.
I really was fed up with all that Jonah did and all his modifications and creative touches to humiliate me more and more, and I really hated being weak and fragile.
One day when all were sleeping, I went to Jonah’s room which was enlightened. I knocked the door, then I entered without having his permission. His room was very strange, as it was my first time to visit this room. It was expansive and full of things (a lot of cartoons, some tools, and some objects). When I entered, he looked at me and didn’t say a word, then he returned to his laptop and continued doing what he was doing. I sat beside him, then I said: “Jonah, can we talk for a while. I won’t take a lot of your time. Please”
Jonah: “Sure, but me fast because I am not free for your useless stuff.”
Me: “I feel that you hate me, and I also feel that all my classmates hate me. What did I do? I really don’t want to lose my brother.”
He gazed at me then said: “Ummm. I will tell you the secret, and you should know that it’s something out of my control.”
I was stunned for a long moment, and I looked at him with interested eyes.
Me: “What Jonah! Please tell me…”
Jonah: “Because of this.” He was shaking my big belly, and he laughed out loud (Yes, it’s called lol)
I really didn’t know what to do, but I did one thing that made me lose all my ego.
I begged Jonah while I was crying: “Jonah, please, tell me why you are doing this. How can I improve myself? Don’t laugh at me, brother.”
Jonah: “Look. To have an answer for this important question, you should something impossible. You know what it is?”
I felt the surge of hope flowing through my veins, then I nodded frequently, opening my eyes, and said in hopeful tune: “What? What can I do?” I felt that my tears are vanishing for a while, and I thought that Jonah may tell me the truth.
Jonah: “You need to get rid of this.” Pointing at my belly and laughing more out loud.
I was shocked, and I really didn’t know what to do, but I just ran out of the room, heading to my friends: my thirsty blanket who used to drink my tears and my strong bed who used to hear my silent cries.
These are the three situations that made me detested Jonah, but they aren’t the only. My next nickname (The current one that’s used to call me while I am writing this book) is the most significant nickname in my life…
Welcome to the end of the first part of my-influenced-by-Jonah chapter.