We are very lucky to live in a world where so many people are ready to help each other. However, I just could not ask for it then, now or ever. I am always inclined to be alone. I am a middle-aged single unmarried woman teaching psychology in a school. I am not sounding so different perhaps, yet I am not like a ‘normal’ woman. I can never be proud of it – it has always been the reason for my depression.
I never had crushes on boys like other girls in school; I was rather closer to the girls. I wondered upon my preferences initially, however, the urge to be like them still persists in me. I was never excited about a man’s naked picture in my biology books; rather I concentrated more on the female ones. My introvert self protected me from bullies, but I always kept questioning myself about my interests. I realised I am different, but the reason was unknown. I was in class nine when I learned about homosexuality. I identified as one later. But no one knows this.
I saw people making fun of homosexuality all my life. I was scared and still am. I frequently had dreams of cuddling and kissing the lips of unknown women in my sleep and got even more scared of being hated. However, me being a nymphomaniac is a realisation which I unconsciously lament about.
My college days were not like the ones shown in youth films. I understood from my early teens that I can never be a lover. But my heart knew no such truths, and so I fell in love with her. I cannot disclose her name as she may hate me for being a lesbian. I saw her on the first day of our college. She was so beautiful! Her long and curly hair, her shiny eyes, her bright smile, her voice; everything was so beautiful about her. I still remember her in a blue saree at our fresher’s party; the swaying of the folds and ends of her saree, her glittering lips, her earrings, her happiness. I had my first genital stimulations that day. She had bewitched my soul.
I never had the courage to talk to her by myself, nor I could convey my feelings for her; being aware of the unwanted hatefulness of my preferences. She was very joyful and sweet to me. One day she was complaining about a shoulder ache and asked me for a massage. I touched her for the first time that day. I still remember the feeling of my heart beats, my emerging warmth, and the sweat on my skin, as I touched hers. Suddenly I noticed a small love bite on her neck. I felt a streak of coldness running into my blood all of a sudden. I asked her about it. She blushed and I came to know about her boyfriend. She got up and went away.
My body started getting colder and colder. I went to the washroom, splashed water on my face and immediately left for home. I had a shower then, and lay down on the bed. My eyes started watering. I closed the door and all the windows of my room and wailed. My pain was not a matter of a line or two; I couldn’t shout and stop my tears. An hour or two wouldn’t do them justice, I cried for innumerable seconds that day.
I still had to be normal with her, but I was not amongst her closest friends. I cannot be a good lover ever, I know, but I still cannot stop thinking about her even today. She is my facebook friend and I am limited to her posts. I am an independent woman now and reject all the marriage proposals from men. My parents get annoyed. But how can I tell them the reasons? Reading innumerable books on psychology still doesn’t help me forget her or divert my sexual desires towards men. I don’t think anyone ever works so hard to change his or her sexual interests. But unconsciously I am obliged to. Yet I still love her.
My first suicide attempt was on the day when I found that she was married to a man. That was just too much for me. I had never made any proposals or advances to her, ever. Then who was I angry upon? I was always sad about my choices but it pains me even more to think of her being with someone else.
Being unable to bear this disgust any longer, I went up to the terrace. I walked towards the railings and looked down with blurry and teary eyes. Suddenly, I noticed a beautiful combination of yellow and white light. People were busy with their work. I realised the beauty of lights against the dusk. I came down as I couldn’t ruin this beauty with my lifeless corpse.
Seeing my sad face, my mother got shocked and started questioning me; but I kept quiet. Seeing me not answering, she advised me to start writing a diary and left the room. I wonder how a mother’s mind can work so fast.
My psychological turmoil is still ongoing. I haven’t talked to her since our graduation. I never had any guides, doctors or advisors to help me out. Instead, I still see people making fun of homosexuals and hating them. It pains me to see people like me being laughed at behind our back. I still continue my suicide attempts as I think that I can never get cured of my ‘diseases’. But I cannot end my life. I fail in this too. It’s not that I am afraid of death, but that I want to live a few more days in her thoughts, I want to spend some more time in love with her.