She hates that she is a woman
The putrefying weakness perceived in the curves of her body
The naivete shown in her blues
With the unintentional flutter of butterfly lashes
That refuse to meet the glances of those that pass by
The fear-- Of what?
That stereotypes are true?
She doesn't even know
And it sickens her.

She sickens herself.

She hates that she is white
The blandest vanilla
The marble statue
Somehow revered
Worshiped
Privileged
But simultaneously overlooked
Boring
Unimportant
The Caucasian mongrel
In light of the fact that her People
Have no proud history
Which she can name herself heir to

She hates that she is middle class
Not poor enough to struggle
Not rich enough to be free
Just situated dully in the middle
A footnote in the statistic
That they tell her she must use
To identify herself

She hates that her belief system
Has to be called by a name
That she has to choose
To be a part of a group
As part of her "identity"
And she is not allowed
To stand by her own integrity

She hates that she is American
The pudgy, loud-mouthed, laterally-speaking nation
The brashly jumps into conflict
Guns blazing
As its political system decays
In the stench of its overwhelming debt and corruption

But in truth
She hates
That they force her
To whittle her essence down
Into Gender, Race, Class, Religion, and Nationality
A *****-inducing statistic

As if there was nothing more to her
Than the facts surrounding her existence

We were always so good at pretending, weren’t we? We would always climb rooftops and pretend that we were stargazers, christening constellations with our favorite songs. Look, there was Somebody Else. There was Nobody’s Home. There was Chasing Cars.

We would pretend we were souls from the 50s, reincarnated into another life — into another happy ending. We would pretend we were art critics, as if we knew **** about Klimt; as if we could tell apart baroque from classical. We would tell each other our weirdest dreams and analyze them, as if we were Freud or something, that misogynistic pig. Oh, you dreamt about us drowning together in the Black Lake? Oh, that means we were gonna have *** tonight, in the absence of the moon. We would pretend that we’ve circled the whole world and that Italy’s got the ******* blandest pizza. We would pretend that we were rock stars, surfing on the crowd.

We would pretend that we’d read the classics. Was that Harry or Henry in The Picture of Dorian Gray? Yeah, Hamlet was pretty cool, but who was Ophelia? ******* pseudo-intellectuals, we were. Nonetheless, I loved pretending with you. We loved pretending that the whole world wasn’t crashing down — that we weren’t stuck in this ******* of a small town, and that the world spun for us. We loved pretending that everything would be okay — that we could leave someday without looking back. We loved pretending that our lives weren’t all over the place. We loved pretending that we were the brave ones, that we could **** ourselves by 40 because the world wouldn’t be kind when we’re all old and saggy.

We loved pretending that we were too cool for mental breakdowns and for any kind of feeling. Honey, we loved pretending that we were psychopaths, too voided for love and all that other crap — that we hated clichés, while doing the most romanticized clichés anyway. We loved pretending that this was where the chapter would end, and that we were together in our make-believe ending. We loved pretending that we were the ones who stayed and made it.

Now, sometimes, I would pretend that we did. Other times, it would be me pretending I was all there ever was — that you never were here to pretend with me, and that I was okay. I would pretend that the rooftop wasn’t too high, and that I didn’t need your help to climb — that the company of city lights and the empty space were enough, honey they never were. Honey, I would pretend too that I never missed you. But I did.

I always did. More than that I would ever admit.

I would look at the stars, the ones we named but I guess they all had already fallen to the earth. You said that when you died, you would live in the shooting stars so that you could crash to the earth and come back to me. But it had been more than a decade since the angels took you away and I no longer stargazed, except tonight. And maybe, just maybe, when I would catch a glimpse of a falling star, I still wouldn’t wish that you didn’t chase your meds with *****. I wouldn’t wish that we didn’t find bubbles coming out of your mouth, like they were a part of your soul. I wouldn’t wish that I didn’t see you die. I wouldn’t wish that you were okay; we both knew we wouldn’t have clicked if one of us was happy or okay.

Heaven, hell, we didn’t believe in those. But when a star would fall unto my chest, I would wish that wherever you were right now or wherever you would be in the next life, darling, you would no longer feel the need to pretend.

And with no lies, no masks, no pretenses, I loved you. Here. And in the next. And in the lives after that, until we lived in one where we would both have the courage to abandon all pretense and just sit on a different rooftop, sharing silence — sharing honest thoughts — sharing the luster of distant stars. And tomorrow, our demons wouldn’t rise with the sun. And we would be okay.

Don't judge me.
You don't know my life, my circumstances,
My heartbreak.
It seems like people only care about
How they measure up to others.
They are disgraced by people who can't measure--
Disgraced by me.
But no one knows.
No one knows its me.

Sometimes I hate my name.
It happens when I hate my self.
Called out in shame,
No one had time to listen,
Time to hold me,
Time to care.

Do they know what they are doing?
Do they know the difference between put downs
And let downs?
Do they know that the pain they give me
Is worse than any physical pain I have endured?
If they do,
They don't care.
They live to measure;
I can't measure.

But,
How sweet it is
When I get called beautiful.
Who knew I could be beautiful?
Me, the blandest and saddest pretender in the world--
Beautiful?
I'm feeling of worth,
My world is changing.
What he says is worth all the heartbreak in the world.

a  humming flourescent bath
singing the blandest tune

and a sticky tile line graph
forecasting certain doom

as time weaves a boring stretch
on his relentless loom

it occurs to me I'm still
the worst part of this room

It should be dark.

Ethereality is brought upon by shadows
Comforting shades that beautifully waylay prancing lights
permeating mysticism to arouse the blandest of hearts.
Clustered crowns of effervescent greens scraped the sky
Their lithe fingers clasped, uneasy to divulge light
yet they do so for their trunkless kin at their feet

There should be music.

At dusk the chiming of army throats moan
the deep humming legato of elastic croak to their content
rich baritones with an orchestral blend of alluring notes.
Exoskeletal feet, an angels' choir too quick to play
Their voices, violins in concerto with hissing air
that slither in between the crevices of trees for beauty to play

I should be afraid.

A tiny mouse that shifts beneath dry leaves should scare
Rustling grass dimmed by jet skies fill you with dread
The tapping of leafless hands on rusted roof puts you under duress
Flash lightning mimics the morning in negative filter
The heavy blows of drizzling rain harmoniously mix with discordant wind
Then when it all settles, the beating of your own cardinal is unnerving.

Then I realize, all of which I stated are now in memory

That the stone road that always greeted me is now but dry and dirt
That the music I once heard met a sharp end that made everything else flat
That the movement in the brush no longer shivered my spine
That the birds and beasts will never again come to cheer
That the storms that ravaged my midsummer's night dream
is the same storm that ravaged my youth

And without these childhood memories
I am left unsophisticated, rural
Bare.

Resting on my cross,
Moss crawling it's way up.
Interrupt, crows break the silence.
Ever since my mouth has become sown shut.

That image of the woman,
Has been stuck inside my head,
Dread, that sudden realization,
Migration impossible I am tied to a cross.

Around me is grain,
Pain of blandest stings my eyes.
Sunrise is coming,
Running to me she smiles.

Fixing my coat she picks at the straw,
Caww caww, she mocks the crows.
Oh that smile warms me,
Please stay here.

All done now she leaves with a hug,
Tug on my cross I want to wrap my arms around her.
Brrrr winter's breeze blows by,
Goodbye sunrise.

Night falls upon my space,
Taste, the crows all swarm me for salty tears,
Years of torture the crows pick me apart,
No heart, no courage, no brain.

Just the pain of the cross.

i rather have nothing with you than everything with anyone else.
i rather live in a tiny shoe box apartment with you than live in a mansion with anyone else.
i rather go through the sadness of not being able to see you on valentines day than go through the happiness of seeing anyone else.
i rather walk in silence with you than talk about the blandest of things with anyone else.
i could sit in absolute silence with you and still have the time of my life. everything is better when you are around, and sadly you are not, but that's okay. and well, i love you; more than you could ever know.

Chapter 1 – The new kid

It was 8 in the morning; Vaani was already late for school meanwhile mom couldn’t resist making her gallop that whole glass of milk. She couldn’t help it, “ Why do we need this now when I should be chatting with my buddies in class!?” She let out an exasperated argument while holding the hot steel glass. Swallowing it in half a millisecond, she politely ordered dad to drive her to school. The weather wasn’t any different from the day before, however there was this strange shade of dark blue which let itself spread all over the town. The sky was unusually favorable and was worth staring at. Approaching the school building, dad gave a quick reality check and she instantly shifted from her unusually-aesthetic-blue-ceiling dimension. “Thank you, Lord Shiva!”, she expressed her gratefulness to one of the Hindu holy trinity for helping her reach on time. The ultrasonic giggles and chatters in the corridors were the evidences that prayer hasn’t begun till now. After the prayer, quite in resemblance with the daily chores at home, all of them arranged their tables and non-expectantly waited for Ms Prerna. Ms Prerna is the head of the English department in school, the fact that English is a subject taken least seriously by the students is something that she’s not completely oblivious of. They have no Brutus-Caesar business with her, but on the contrary, they do detest beginning their mornings with an hour learning a language they never learnt in class. Ms Prerna stormed into the classroom with an energetic vibe, a clear indication of a 10-minute extension of the lesson. Comme d’habitude, everyone sang out their good mornings in a rhythmic symphony. However, it wasn’t just them alone contributing to the morning paradigm. A throaty and electrifying voice like the arrival of tsunami yet humble and calm like the low waves at the evening beach could be heard with utmost clarity. Ms Prerna furrowed, consequently her wrinkles drowned into the corner of her lips to curve a smile. “I see we’ve got a new kid in class today!”, she rejoiced the arrival of the mysterious voice, and as a part of the necessary tradition, she asked him to come out and introduce himself . Vaani was curious at top of her senses to witness the physicality of the hoarse sound waves meanwhile, the husky lad came out of his chair, the long and heavy strides he took were attributing to his tall stature, as he came in close proximity, one could experience the delicious odor of the seven seas. It almost felt as if all the water bodies reincarnated as a male progeny. He turned. Towering young lad, whiten-hued with a light swarthy shade. Covered in the translucent sheets of skin, his veins ran up and down and finally converged at his wrist. Physique so lithe and muscular, one could substantiate that he wouldn’t have even heard about unhealthy junk. Clean shaven with a downward slanting jaw, lips fixed like a warrior’s bow, stable and subtle. Short hair but every bit uprising. Then, he raised his gaze, stark blue eyes violent enough to execute someone but at the same time, comforting and intoxicant enough to rejuvenate every being. Invoking an obedient smile, he set forth his introduction, “Good Morning Ms Prerna! I’m Neel Samudravanshi and I’m quite excited to be a part of this class.” Neel Samudravanshi, (literally – Blue Descendant of the Ocean). Every bit of his name was associated perfectly with his personality! “A very good morning to you too Neel! I hope you find the environment of the class comfortable and welcoming. I see you’re planning on taking seats with Akaash, he's one of the most diligent boys and I’m sure you won’t face any difficulties adjusting here as long as he can guide you. I’m pleased to welcome you! Please take your seat child.”, the very traditional paradigm of bragging the hospitality was yet again fulfilled by Ms Prerna, but this time she seemed to be reflecting unnecessary geniality. It appeared as if she was saying those diabetic utterances out of some sort of devotion. There was something peculiar about him, something very obscure. Obviously, he was no Derek Hale from Teen Wolf, nevertheless there lied an inexplicable enigma in his eyes. The clock kept ticking with increasing intensity, or maybe it was the sound of Vaani’s impatient disposition desperately waiting for the clock hand to stand ***** at 9:10. At 9:05, she was quite edgy, however, just out of insignificant curiosity, she glanced over at Neel, “How the hell can he be so much involved in this sadistic lecture?”, she murmured to herself constantly scrutinizing the mindfulness of the new lad. The bell rang, one could hear a great reverberation of amalgamated relieving sighs, after all, they weren’t the biggest fans of the subject. The consecutive periods were in this order, maths, maths, chemistry and sports. The school administration was thoughtful enough to award them with a 10-min break after the highly endearing first period and as usual, all the boys and girls gathered around their preferable tables along with their preferable humans, commonly known as “friends”, this is exactly where the purpose of uniforms and identity cards fails. A short span of pause is sufficient enough to cleave the pretentious union into numerous tribes of four or five. Vaani was one of the most desired and voguish girls of the school and yet the humblest darling anyone could ever run into, however today, she incorporated a great amount of inquisitiveness in her actions. Partly rejoicing the short break with her school-oriented social circle and partly switching sight over to the common point of interest, she felt distracted. Meanwhile all this short gala, Neel seemed comfortably addicted to his assigned place in the classroom, motionless, eyes subtly penetrating the mid-point of the rectangular board, face spewing a burning backscattering confident look. Amidst all this, Akaash patted him gently on his back and made a generous effort in transmitting the complicated art of socializing, “ Hey Buddy! I know it’s your first day and it truly ***** to be around a group of total strangers for this long, but you’ve got to get up and interact with them. Judging your taste, the he’s aren’t worth it but the she’s are so totally worth running into!”, Akaash exclaimed with a formal and lame laugh, he definitely was one of the studious and academically extraordinary kids however, that didn’t turn him into a total nerd who spends 2 minutes stammering out of 3 while having a conversation with a person of the opposite gender. To reciprocate some generosity and acknowledgement, Neel finally called it a day on making love to his desk and his eyes weren’t tormenting that mid-point anymore, “ Whom are we starting off with, the he’s or the she’s?”, he asked, by putting on a charming smirk to get along with his helping hand. Akaash led him towards the girl-specific dense region of the mediocre-sized classroom and switched on his mingling device, “So ladies! This is Neel, the brand-new animal in the kingdom and I expect you all to get along with him, behave well with him, help him get through the absurd culture of this wrecking institution hahaha!”, the girls didn’t have the slightest idea of anything about Neel, but his personality was dynamic enough to make any of them fall for him. Tanya reached over to establish an amical relationship by shaking hands with him, but all she desired for was to swirl her long fair fingertips over his vascular forearm, “ Hey I’m Tanya! Tanya Kapoor, I’m sorry the kids here are too much occupied within themselves and it’s kinda hard to look after everyone you know.”, Tanya was a perfect gene of the conceitful teenagers who have a sense of superiority regarding their family, financial stature and physical appearance, moreover they are well-versed with the skills of pretentious-empathy which is why they’re able to dodge the entitlement of mean girls. Totally inconsiderate of the conspicuous semi-seductive motives of Tanya, Neel summarized his reaction in a bland handshake and the blandest smile one could possibly make. The domino effect of befriending was now functional or what one could assume to be a far-fetched attempt in successfully hitting it off with the out-of-league material for which the modus operandi was flattery and well that’s it. However, the last block of the domino was far apart from every preceding one, the one who wouldn’t follow the conventional trend and stand apart. Premonishing Vaani’s persona, Neel himself went ahead and stretched out his hand, “Hey!”, he addressed her. “Hey, I’m Vaani, I hope you won’t have to go through all this tedious intro-procedure over and over again.”, Vaani empathized with him as she knew how dull it gets after a while, getting summoned like a culpable to lay foundations of uncertain acquaintances, whom you might want to annihilate in near future. “I’m sure I won’t have to, Vaani. Thank you.”, he responded with some essence of eccentricity in his words, something that could leave one astray and disoriented in comprehending the verity. Although it shouldn’t come as a surprise, after all one could always get lost in the depths of the ocean.

This is an ever-refreshing circle of
long for-love-attach-suffer for

and when I eat food
they are the blandest meals
for I must avoid any taste of salt
because salt tastes like you...
and when I recall
how sweet
you are
I hurt


and I should not hurt.

if I don't hurt, i will not be deserted, and then i will not hurt.
circle logic.

at least it has a shape.
Otherwise, what form does a life take?
What sense does this world make?
And so, i stay, inside the circuit,
because I have not learned to lead myself away
and if I were to learn that I love myself,
and that I cause this hurt to myself,
I don't know how I could ever forgive me.

I don't have my thing
I don't have something I'm good at
A cornerstone in the foundation of my character

I don't have that

When I grew up I guess I was told that everyone needed that something
Person A is good at this thing, but person B shouldn't feel sad because person B is good at that other thing

But what if person C really isn't good at anything?

Now that I reflect upon it, I think I really wanted to find my thing when I grew up
I really did.
I didn't give up because of laziness

But with every thing, I realised that I wasn't good enough
I had some promising starts but I never quite made it the whole way

I guess that I had this idea that when you have your thing it sort of just comes to you
You can't struggle with one of your cornerstones, you struggle with things that aren't your thing

So I never actually got good at anything
And in my pursuit to find my flair
I may just have become the blandest person alive