Written by Sibiraj Chakravarthi
Kids
there is a trigger warning for this one
in this phase,
i did not like myself very much
i styled my trauma to match my jeans
let dopamine hugs handle my dreams
Slim fit teeth fit my skull pretty well
So well my dentist would tell my words could cut
I don’t know if that was a joke, but i believed it,
that wearing a heart on my sleeve is bad idea,
talk only when it is needed & brush twice a day
soon enough all the problems will go away.
But I had a childhood i didn’t grieve & the pain did not go away.
i wasn’t looking for attention though,
i just slit my wrist skin a bit so a little blood shows
loads of customers at the hospital floor
A Doctor appeared
I said please go away
It was not effective
He looked at my papers with stern eyes
It was not the pity i deserved
Your little guy needs some attention
Down there? I asked pointing down
worrying he meant circumcision-
“Down here”, he said patting my heart,
“You just made a bad decision”. I laugh,
he says
“sadness is just a human condition”
are you saying that everyone is a mess?
that is not true, this is mine.
do not say otherwise
vices plague me like mice do
no piper to call,
too small for snipers to swipe
typed me a long concise letter
apologising for ruining my own life
twice i thought of suicide
but then If i want to actually die
I have to actively try
not great on follow through
as much as wanting to.
and as much as you want to
no one can absolve me from this madness inside my head, inside my genes,
Inside the chromosomes that aren’t responding to my dreams,
so why don’t you just leave man, don’t give me hope, don’t tell me false lies,
don’t tell me everyone else dies everyday, like night flies.
Don’t make me cry.
The doctor was still here, listening-
Don’t you get it doc?
He didn’t say anything.
did he understand?
He asked me-
“Do you think if you arrange words fancy, people would understand,
people would relate, you have to speak up & say what’s actually on your mind,
I don’t care what’s implied-
What is actually your problem?
Define it, none of this abstract word nonsense-“
Okay, that’s fair.
I look at the mirror across the hospital bed,
I look disheveled, slim fit teeth still sitting right,
Okay.
do I need more selfcare? I ask him.
Before he can answer-
You know
I’m a bad son. I’m a bad friend.
I hurt people, i let them down,
I don’t make do on my promises
To others or myself-
It’s not because I’m lazy, it’s not because I’m sad,
It’s not because I’m bad or batshit crazy-
I spend so much time thinking what’s fair,
What’s right and wrong,
should I start or would this action become the catalyst that would undo my life,
I think and I think and I think
I lose days, months –
dazed too much to deal with friends,
going for movies feel like I’m playing defense-
everyone’s who’s who asking how do I do,
what do i do, where do I begin?
I’m as broke as the economy
stuck in jobs sucking boss cocks,
bringing starbucks fucking coffee to stalwarts,
rock hard bottom pavement is a start off,
staring at an arm clock, stuck watching Netflix as wars rage on,
waiting in vain, gaining insights about nothing particularly main,
how do I tell them or anyone
that I’m at the forefront of having none of my shit sorted out.
But everyone also wants to talk about themselves,
so i stay shut-
i let their stories become my stories, their worries become mine,
angry at everyone who wronged them, if they ask me if i’m fine –
i smile. I nod. I laugh. I cry.
They leave knowing a version of me that never existed,
and when I walk home i feel more like air than real person,
like i am in an immersion of my own life.
“so you have no physical injuries?”
Does feeling like you have no muscles count?
“this feels like you worry a lot- do you?”
….
I don’t think I know,
I feel so happy alone, on my phone, hours can pass by,
i wouldn’t be low,
but if I step outside my house, i feel like everyone will hurt me.
I can’t do the dishes without crying but I also feel like a hollow brick inside,
like I can collapse, but i also cannot die.
everyone wants me to be better,
get a thousand degrees, make a hundred million dollars in cash,
buy my parents a home, marry a wonderful person & change the world.
But left to my own devices, i can’t even decide what I want to wear.
Doc I’m afraid my head isn’t working for me everywhere.
“okay.”
…….
There was a bit more silence-
He puts a few ticks on his pad before asking
“Do you have any health insurance?”
I don’t. I’m poor. I don’t have a poem for that.
But I want to get my shit sorted out, I want to get better,
meet someone, fall in love, tell my kids this is how I met their mother-
he placed a hand on my head.
“Kid, don’t take yourself too seriously, you’ll be alright, just…. stop trying to hurt yourself “
But it’s hard doc.
When you see your friends thrive, when all you’re doing is trying to survive,
you feel hurt, like they left you to buy icecream without telling you.
It’s better to be sad than to hide the pain and go about your day,
it’s feels very unfair
when it takes me so much energy to convince myself to wake up
when their day is halfway done.
people like me because I’m fun, I hear everything they say,
i validate who they want to be, but i don’t know who I am,
and how to find myself, i just look at my fan spinning day in and day out,
and life just keeps getting harder to live.
he did not say anything. He just sat there.
I wonder now if I spent most of my life mistaking attention for love,
what if people choosing you is more than you can ask for,
what if asking for their attention is just me setting high standards
“Get out of your head-“
Sorry
” You need to get out of your head “
What does that mean.
he closed his eyes ” what color are my eyes “
I …. don’t know
without looking can you tell me what’s the color of your bedframe or the bedsheet?
Fuck. Green?
” You never looked at me once when were speaking, you’re not here,
you cannot expect life to be nice, if you’re not even playing it,
stop living inside of your head “
You’re not a good therapist.
“I’m a pediatrician”
oh. Okay.
” You’ll be alright kid, just don’t be stupid,
definitely go to therapy if you can afford it
& none of that poetry bullshit “
…… He stood up to leave.
I creaked a little trying to speak-
Thanks… for listening to me.
He smiled and looked at me, I saw his eyes.
Brown, common, just like everybody else
He left.
these were some good insights,
I should note these down before I forget,
Where’s my phone?
Text © Sibiraj Chakravarthi
*
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