Dear Mum,
I lied. I’m sorry I did it again. After promising a thousand times that I won’t lie again. I guess something triggers me each day. Maybe it’s the fear of loosing you, or you judging me, or I’m not confident of myself, or maybe, just maybe, I was born to lie.
I told you I don’t have friends. I lied. I have friends from all walks of life. I have friends that morally upright people like you won’t keep. I have friends that morally upright people like you will judge us for mingling with.
I have friends from different occupations. Others are prostitutes. Others are thieves. Others are jobless and do anything to survive, including acting as powerful witch doctors.
You see, we do anything to survive. Life is hard. Despite our different “careers,” we hold each other’s hands. We ensure none of us sleeps on an empty stomach. We ensure all our children are in school. We ensure no one lacks money for medication. In our circle, we learnt the art of sharing.
We meet as much as we can. Mum, during our meetings, we talk about everything. We talk about our horrible jobs. We talk about our unsupportive families and friends. We talk about our children’s future incase one of us dies. We talk about our fear of going to prison. All this we do over a cheap bottle of whiskey or vodka, that’s what we can afford. You know alcohol makes you open up?
When we’re done, everyone goes back to their hole happy. Ready for tomorrow. Praying that tomorrow will be better than today.
But, dear mum, will it?
Your daughter,
Irene.