Ten years. Ten long, empty years since my Chintu, my brave, beautiful son, decided he couldn’t face the world anymore. Every day is a struggle, but the anniversary of that day, that black day, it rips open wounds I spend the other 364 days trying to stitch back together. Yesterday was that day. The tenth anniversary. It felt heavier, somehow, an entire decade of living without his laughter, his mischief, his presence. The world outside expects you to move on, to heal, but some wounds just don’t close. The social pressure to put on a brave face, especially in our society, is immense.
My Secret Escape: How I Got High to Survive the Day My Son Left
Published Anonymously
Submitted by a real person and published with their consent. Identity is never revealed.