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How can I miss you when I never even was you? | Hind Dihan

Who would I be without the choices I’ve made?

What if there was another person that I may have been,

had I chosen the road untaken, the path undiscovered?

All the people I could have been


(the people I should have been).


The girl who pursued classics,

who traversed the world viewing it in shades of antiquity and myth.

The girl who fled the nest sooner,

in search for the freedom of the skies.

The girl who remained, in spite of it all,

who formed roots where there was only unfertile earth.


Who would she have become?


Would she have been a better, braver and more beautiful person?

Would she have been kind,

where I am cold?

Would she always tell the truth,

instead of the lies that I spew?

Or would she have been the same as I?


Sometimes, I reach for her hand, to hold her

she refuses it indifferently,

not willing to even look at me.

As if by being who I am,

I’ve forsaken my chance of becoming her.


In spite of her rejection, I yearn for her still, for fear that she is a better person than I

that she is a more dedicated friend

a more devoted daughter

a more diligent student

I have no reason to believe she would be all those things,

yet I also have no reason to believe she wouldn’t be.


Leading me to the most haunting question of all:

How can I miss you when I never even was you?

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Ma | Danya Bhasin

Her brown opal eyes gazing into mine, haldi stains on her hands Amla oil coating every thick hair strand, perfumes of her ancestors tragedies hundreds of torn up families, but never distorting her own

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