Skip to main content

Nineteen.

I thought I’d feel it when it was done. He saw through it. He saw what I meant, though I hadn’t expected that. It wasn’t perfect, not even close. It was full of flaws, marked by what it wasn’t—the lack of movement, the lack of love. That was all over it. 

I raised my middle finger, but not out of anger. Their hands claimed me, and when they left me here, it was like the abandoned child suddenly became a genius, only recognized once the gold glittered.

Only then did it matter. It was supposed to be about joy, but as I stood there, blindsided, taking every blow that wasn’t meant for me, I felt it. Just a little—the satisfaction. I had done it, but they refused to see it.

My life has always been linked to death. Almost like a curse—someone important dies around my birthday. Coincidence, maybe, but the fear is real.

I can see the preparation for what I walked into, but I see the love more. I should believe in it. I finally spoke of the emptiness. The hollowness that crushes me—it wouldn't have hurt if I didn’t have a heart, a name, something proving I’m human. No joy, no sadness. I feel nothing.

I prayed for something this morning. Tonight, I might pray to take it away. I hope I feel something on this birthday.

Nineteen, be the answer to my soul, not the end of my worth.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Varuthaayi.

"വരാം," ഞാൻ പറയുമ്പോൾ, "പോകാം" എന്ന് പറയാനുള്ള ആ പേടി. My legs prickle like the seeds of a strawberry, and I feel like tearing myself apart today. I keep picking at the wound that heals every two days, only for it to break open again—blood and flesh. I feel trapped in my own skin, my body will never be what I want it to be. There are things I’m supposed to become, but time is slipping away. I applied for many things. I have sent my name into the void—eight, ten, how many more? They have to call me today. If not, I won’t be who I need to be. Tomorrow, I’ll be hopeless again. I can’t hold on to who I am, so how will time hold on to me? I eat the yellow as if it might bring some joy. One piece is thin and crispy, the bite sounds, and I feel it. The next is thick and bland—someone like me must have cut it. One is unexpectedly sweet, even though it isn’t brown like I expected. How it lies to me. I look in the mirror, I look away. Another is too salty. I eat 250 grams of ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Where's My Present?

"True consistency isn’t about frequency—it’s about identity. It is about becoming the kind of person who does what needs to be done, no matter what." For a long time, I thought I knew what I wanted. I chased internships, opportunities, and the validation that came with them. These things were within reach, yet the more I pursued them, the more they felt disconnected from who I was.  It wasn’t that they were bad opportunities—they were, by most standards, great ones. And I wouldn't pass them up if I did get them. But they weren’t my purpose, I realize. They didn’t align with the person I wanted to become.  I had let them define so much of what I did, and in that pursuit, I lost sight of the deeper question: What do I actually want? Ironically, chasing them helped me realize that they were never my end goal to begin with.   Yet, the pressure I put on myself was unbearable. The competitiveness I internalized made failure feel worse than death itself. Fear reduced me to ...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Start. Maybe.

January 4th. That’s when I started writing my diary—not the 1st, not when I was supposed to. Already late. Already behind. And that feeling hasn’t left me since.   I keep skipping things I shouldn’t. I sign up for things and never follow through. I tell myself I’ll get it together, but I don’t. Money slips away. Time slips away. I try routines, I set goals, I make plans—nothing sticks.   Every conversation feels like I’m talking to myself. Every piece of work I create is full of I, me, myself. I can’t escape it, and honestly, I’m tired of it.   But here’s the thing: I need to be stronger than I am. I need to get my driver’s license. I need to stop running in circles before I turn 20 and wonder where all this time went.   The diary feels like a sham, but at least I’m still writing, I guess. I had not even written it for a long time. Maybe that’s something.   I want to know that the sun is there even if its not facing me. I want to feel th...
Post a Comment
Read more