Aliyawanders

If there’s one thing I wish I’d known when I was younger, it’s that not everyone is truly rooting for your success.

Some think they are — but deep down, they find pleasure in seeing you go through a rough patch.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I realised this, but it must’ve been sometime in my mid-30s.

Ever since then, I’ve learned to play along. I make up stories — about how hard my life is, how terrible people are towards me, how I have to toil just to survive.

And you can see it on his face. You need to notice the small changes — the flicker in his eyes, the way his smile turns genuine. That’s how you know.

Before this, I used to share stories of joy — how much I loved my team, my office, my life, my friends.

And without fail, drama would follow not long after.

This person would always find fault in me. And after I got married, in my husband too. Then, after I became a mother, even my son wasn’t spared.

Everything we do is wrong. The way we sit, talk, eat — everything.

Today was no different.

I met him (no choice, really). As always, most of the conversation was about him. It has always been that way, and honestly, I prefer it that way.

But of course, the obligatory question came — “How are you doing, Aliya?”

So I made up the most ridiculous story I could think of — not too far from reality, but just enough to satisfy him.

I told him life has been really hard for us (I hate saying that because I believe words carry power, almost like a doa — but I knew that’s what he wanted to hear).

I said I’ve been working in a warehouse.

It’s sort of abandoned (it’s not, but it’s quiet and unstaffed).

I told him I have to lift heavy boxes myself, go through them one by one, hoping to find something worth selling just to survive.

Then I added, “Just two days ago, I lifted this huge box and didn’t notice another one on the floor. I tripped, hurt my elbow, and now I can’t even lift it properly.”

That part was true.

His face lighted up — it was almost comical.

He smiled and said, “That’s what you need to do to survive.”

Not once did he ask about my injury.

Later, I told my husband about the conversation.

I bet this story will make its way to everyone who cares to listen.

And if it ever reaches those who actually know me… I can already picture the collective eye-rolls dedicated to me. 😛