I wish I could be all the lovely things you thought I am. I wish I could live up to the youthfulness that my body exudes. Or just ask my thoughts to leave me alone for a minute and smile like I have got no care in this world.
When I passed that neighbourhood again, this time for a different reason, I found myself wondering, again, that how I am no longer who I was. And what I am right now is not what I will be next year. As for the million times I feel embarrassed and ashamed for the things that I’ve done and the people whom I’ve wanted, I still can’t forgive myself for it. For every time I’ve fallen back on substance abuse and every time I’ve felt pangs of anxiety because of my warped up self image, I feel this stinging pain that travels from the recesses of my mind to the locked up crevices of my heart, but instead of making me cry it makes me want to sink inside a bath tub all day or never leave my bed.
People have called me frigid for never not knowing what I want. They’ve called me reckless for not feeling comfortable in opening up to them. Cold, distant and detached perhaps were the right words for my ‘sun-sign’ (do they really work?).
So for every time you ask me to smile, I would wish it was just that easy. And for every time I faked my laughter and excitement, I wish you could see the devastation my existence bathes in. Everyday it becomes harder and harder for me to absolve myself of the crimes that I’ve never done.
There are still brief moments of clarity and freedom. The moments where I say to myself that life is so beautiful and I deserve every last bit of happiness. But when you’ve been sad for this long and have been told that something’s wrong with you every time you bring it up, your sadness becomes a part of who you are. It will crawl up your skin the minute life catches up and all you can do is wish, pray and hope for things to be different.