Being me !

Sometimes you are so used to being strong that you forget someone deep within you is feeling suffocated by your laughter. The time you realize the existence of that suffocation, every thing else around you starts to get messed up! The louder I laugh with all my honesty, the more the person within me suffocates. And I realize the pain it goes through when I cry from my heart.

Being vulnerable makes people take you for a ride, and being strong makes people think you are too practical. I realize this dilemma when I find no words to tell someone how I am. Most of the times my confusion messes it all and people tend to form an opinion completely new to me.

The more I feel 'words' help me to express myself, the more I experience having people who cannot understand them. The more people think of me to be intelligent, the more I feel they would not bear my heavy talks for long. The more I hear advices that I already know of, the more I feel I am making myself appear way too weak.

I am too habituated to expressing myself in a way which most of the people find creative or some intelligent combination of words. Every time someone thinks of me to be ‘Creative’ I feel I have lost the ability to sound and appear normal.

I do not display my creativity when I say what I feel; I am not writing any poetry when I express what deeply hurts me. But every time someone ‘Wow’s’ when I express, i am assured they saw the poet in me and not the girl in me.

Written by Vrushali Deshpande

Am I Pretty?

Starring blankly at her wardrobe,
She shuffles her clothes messily,
And as every dress imagined fails,
She detaches each of them hopingly

Red makes her look fat
Black makes her look darker
Yellow looks stretched from her belly
And orange outcasts her unsurprisingly

She walks through the gate of her school
Blind to people coming in her way
Deaf to words of absolute dismay
She walks shamefacedly to her classroom
Ignoring every giggle during the day
Escaping every comment on her way

Every time he passes by, she calms her nerves
And with this feeling of being unnoticed
It confirms she is not allowed to love

She’s teased on Tuesday
She’s bullied on Wednesday
She’s gossiped about in history
She’s a butt of jokes in geometry

Hurriedly she rushes in her room
Holding god’s idol tightly, she cries so miserably
Tell me why didn’t you make me beautiful?

Every day’s hurt makes you numb
Tears only give birth to self pity
This lesson from life one day everyone learns

Enough! She shouts; enough to this stout!
She reads, she observes
She unlearns, she learns
Her wisdom so evidently pronounced

People genuinely sing ‘Lala!’ to looks just once
But if you sing bad intellectually
Then eventually these are the ones who quietly shun

Written by Vrushali Deshpande