Still Unfabulous 🌌

​ I feel nothing most times. The way people choose to feel everything, I choose to feel nothing. Not the confusion of a boy who isn’t sure he wants me, Not the confusion of a girl who does. I choose to feel nothing None of that pain None of that desire Instead I chase faraway dreams, New elations… I think to myself, ‘This is mine’, Then I know it won’t be mine. I think to myself  ‘Maybe I can be yours’, But I know thinking will get me nothing  So I choose to feel nothing Wanting to be yours makes me not mine so I don’t want it. But If I had to choose  If I had to pick who I’m just mine  Waiting to become yours. It’ll be nothing till I know I’m yours Till I know I will be the yes to everything you want, Everything you desire, I’ll be yours. But once I’m sure Till then it is nothing.

​ I wanted to be 19 forever I used to say it all the time.  Sometimes it meant that 19 would be when my immortality began. It would be the beginning of my own never ending. Imagine. Every year with 19 candles. Sometimes I’d wonder if I was admitting to myself that it would be the best time for me to leave. 19 was special. Not a teenager. Not even really an adult, Everything & nothing all at once. I could say goodbye at 19. 19 would preserve me. I turned 20.  I couldn’t believe it. All those days that led up to it that was fueled by this anonymous depression. All those tears that I shed that I blamed on ruined plans & excuses I can’t even remember… This age. This change. This numbing realization that I would do it. That I had to. Left with a life I had never really wanted and not knowing what to do with it. 19 would have been perfect. 20 would be a tragic shame. I pushed through. I enjoyed the happiness when it came.  I lived through that heart hurting sadness....

​ Dear Siya, I’ve learnt a something new. A thing or two from Heartbreak. It is a pain that lives. It has a mind of its own. Places it must go. When I'm conscious of where it goes, I feel it take root in my feet. I can’t get up. The weight is too much. The pain is too heavy. Sometimes it lives in my hands; I can’t lift them to eat. If I move them too much it feels like they might break. When I think I have bested it, and they work to put food in my mouth, it travels to my stomach. It makes it impossible to keep in what I have managed to swallow. When it is time to rest it flows up to my brain. It takes away my ability to sleep. It stops me from dreaming. It is a living thing that hates me and punishes me for its existence. I blame myself for creating this thing. This thing that leaves me at the brink of tears, fighting the urge to cry in public spaces. This thing that makes me sad and angry and bitter, so that it is on the tip of my tongue to lash out and share my unhappiness. This...

​  I  do this thing where I trick myself & make myself believe that I haven’t been in love, That I don’t know what it’s like to be driven by that madness. I tell myself that I have never felt so deeply about anything or anyone.  That it is a touch that I have not felt, a house I have not lived in… But when I am honest, when my mind plays no games and I am clear, I remember you. Us. I remember that I loved you. I remember what it was like to be in love. Anything was possible. Everything was real. I remember that there was nothing that could keep me from you, nothing I wouldn’t do or say for your energy on my cheeks, to see laughter in your eyes that I put there. I remember the pain that came with your tears. You made me hate them. What they meant.  They made me useless. But I remember that I was your rock through your pain. I was always what stood between you and your sadness. You were always what stood between me & mine. I remember what it was like to be love...