The Deranged Thoughts Of A Girl

 I was always so adamant to live life on my terms,  A feeling instilled in me by overly opinionated people,  Who decided they knew what was 'best' for me.  I was always too fat to wear clothes I liked,  I was always too silly to be taken seriously,  I was always too dark-skinned to wear the colours I wanted,  I was always too much but never quite enough.  Once I saw my Amma sneaking in saffron in my drinks Because I wasn't fair like my siblings, I was thirteen.  When she stopped doing it, I asked her to add it  To my drinks because I wanted to be fair, I was fifteen.  It pains me to realize that I knew how  I embarked on a journey of rage and hatred for oneself.  So I started again, took back control.  I decided I looked amazing in clothes I wanted to wear,  I have fun being silly but turn wild when I fight for what I believe,  I wear the colours I want and I love that I am too much.  A fresh start is a...

 Trying to ease into adulthood is hard,  When the world keeps bustling with instructions.  Where even the trees sway in a hurry,  How do you expect me to be still.  But I believe the damage is done,  For I panic when I take one lazy day,  Or I internalize rest is only allowed after work,  Or how I am in a hurry even when I relax.   I want to break free from this world,  And find my way, unhurriedly.  I would lay down on the grass with you beside me,  And think a whole lot about how the trees are so calm.  I would turn off my mind and hurrying people On days when the world seems heavy.  I would live as the crazy woman who talks to trees,  And slowly heal myself to live the life I always meant to. 

 Some believe summer solves all problems,  A time to grow and restart.  I wonder why the winter is deemed to be depressing When it has its own sense of magic.   Maybe our hearts make promises to the sun,  To be better, kinder, and grateful for the live we own.  Maybe we kneel down to apologize to the snow,  For letting ourselves go when it became colder.  Some believe summer brings freedom to our lives,  The idea of being free in a life that we made hectic.  I wonder why the winter is frowned upon,  When it has always taught your racing heart to be still.  Maybe winter prepares us for summer,  To let us out of the cage we build from within.  But when we run excitedly towards the summer days,  We always let go of the season that healed us. 

Sometimes I know life is hard to make sense of,  Like how you show anger to the person who Taught you what being angry is,  Like how you are made insecure by someone who Compliments every single stranger,  Like how you beg for love to the one person who Refuses to believe that you are capable of being loved.  It's funny when you return to them angry, insecure, and unloved,  They hold your face in their hands and ask you "Who hurt you, my darling girl?" And you laugh, so, so loud,  Loud enough for the walls to echo "You!",  Only to be silenced by the tears that follow.  Sometimes I know life makes no sense,  Now, I take my place in this world so arrogantly because There's no way the anger I witnessed was just to damage me.  Now, I compliment people for how they make one feel,  Because I refuse to believe that mirrors are synonyms for value in humans.  Now, I speak of the love I experience to everyone I meet,  And make them ...

I wouldn't be ashamed of my collections one day, Of how every narration of my story has a tinge of hate.  I wouldn't talk to you about the days I cried to sleep,  Or how I don't remember being a child.  I wouldn't wish for people to understand me When I have mastered the art of misunderstanding them. I would be proud of my collections one day,  Because I know love always crashes my hate parties,  I would talk to you about I stay vulnerable despite being hurt,  Because I know the universe has always given me back what I lost,  I would stay with the people who are curious As they sit beside me to listen to what I collected today. 

 I feel old and lost at the same time,  I see people living their dreams So sure of what they want.  And I feel myself searching frantically To find a meaning I have never pondered about before.  I feel weak and strong at the same time,  I find people trying to navigate themselves So sure of what hurts and what shouldn't.  And I find myself panicking because Everything hurts even when they call me strong.  I feel trapped and free at the same time,  I watch people fly, sing, and dance So sure of how to enjoy their freedom.  And I find myself suffocated Stepping out of a cage not knowing where to go.  Here I stay, old and lost, weak and strong,  Trapped and free,  Searching and finding new revelations about myself,  Knowing that no matter how uncomfortable it gets,  I still get to write my own story.