Frozen

We have had our experiments, you and I, growing up
womb-sharers, love sharers
I know I left you out in the swing when those monkeys came
I am sorry.
I know I have let you down a number of times
and shut you out of my life
We might never be the poster kids of sisterhood

Why is it dear, that I always fear for you...
When I know you are the stronger one
Movies like these only show how much I miss that
true love
but it has always been true, I have always felt this
that your life is precious to me than mine.

Me

I'm me in one of these ways:
When my cocoon is filled with food
When my books coax me to their world
When my partner-in-womb, and crime, and consciousness retrace my life
When my memories remain just that
When my present is alien to the past or future

Mother

Mother,

Why in the age of camera rolls would you snap a picture of me with snot dripping down my nose?

Why would you let me run off wild in to the estate behind our house when you knew monkeys would bite little kids?

Why did you let me collect hailstones, bird poop, worm heads, and butterfly wings?

Thank you for letting me discover these things, for my memory is unique now, separate from the collective memory of cartoon network characters of my friends.

Love is letting me jump from a wall, scared of a dog chasing me. Love is you massaging my hurt leg with hot oil.

Pain

Do you know, that the survivors of the holocaust couldn't bear to hear the bark of dogs?

Memories barking out the cold
drip of scared sweat
When can I ever see you again?
my laugh sequenced in a slideshow
the shutterbugs caught me unawares
their candid shots caught the fear peeping

lipsticks should be red
not for seduction
but prevention
maybe then he wouldn't bite so hard

rape
is when you love, well sort of.

The Headache

It all boils down to choices. And to a large extent, the availability of these choices.

Here I have one of my friends buying a bike, and telling me how there aren't that many girls to offer a ride to in Kochi.
And why would a girl decide to not go pillion with a friend and go instead on a bus ride in the 'red devil' where the only outcome is to be groped?
Why wouldn't she ever earn 'enough' to buy a car for herself, or not have courage to drive by herself?
Why am I not cooling my head  off in the air outside, riding a bike and instead in my room writing 'feminist trash'?

Answer me, voyeurs.
Answer me, people who would never read this.

The history

These minuscule incidences, Lego blocks of indifference form no pattern visible to either you or me. Let us float away, fighting our warped wars, and let us get lost in wishful thinking, and find maybe other possibilities.

That said, let us now delete our Facebook histories.

Being an arts student

When you need to be careful what you wish for, you are in a world that is a bit too happy to give you things you don't quite need. You can then choose either of the two options: wage a war against all of this, or smile. You can either live in denial or conform.

What do arts students do?

Because we have been taught to respect the differences, we choose the middle ground. Always. Like the end statement of all debates not shown national television. Modesty is not how we clothe, it is how we think. We please too many, though we sound anti-establishment.

Dysfunctional

Of all the things we talked about, we spoke silences the best
The unnamed angers, jealousies and myriad affectations
became just another excuse for affection
and
in those moments somewhere, we discovered friendship
and mean words
and hurt each other with slanderbags
I pointed out your flaws when you laughed at mine
Our talks desperate for attention, loud, incompatible
we swim through each day, getting closer
pushing each other down.

Description

Dear guys, 

Because I forget that to lean on to your friends is the best relaxant upon earth,

Because I forget that often, the only thing you can trust is yourself,

And because after over fifteen posts, you will get tired of praising my work and start critically analyzing it,

You are the only readers of this journal to which I will write religiously, everyday.

We hereby enter a contract, and upon my not publishing something, you are credited for compensation.

Happy reading!

And as soon as you get tired of saying good things, 

Hit me hard with 

Words like pots and pans.

With love, 

Yours.