Being a Freak... getting Personal

Thursday, August 13, 2009

If you have followed my blog during last (almost) 2 years then you may have noticed that I am not very regular. I tend to vanish for weeks, sometimes months. The problem is – I find it really difficult to open up in front of others. No, I am not afraid of talking to strangers.

There have been times when I have walked up to a complete stranger and asked – “hey, from where did you buy that T-shirt”... (the guy was totally shocked when I did that .. lol...). I maintain full eye contact when I talk.. I am certainly not scared of men or eve-teasers. Or insects/dark/blood/ghosts/thuders etc etc..

I am afraid of being judged and then branded – “weird” in this little space I have.

There are very few people from my “real” life who know that I write. For the world, I am this techie who is a math and science geek during the day. Why do I hide? Why don’t I wanna be known as the girl who can juggle numbers and words alike (well... I am not exactly a “Writer” writer... I know that)?

I hide because I would rather die than let ‘em know that I bleed when I am punched. It’s one of those things that you get when you are raised in a crooked way... the way I was. Sometimes I wonder if my tear-glands even work.
There is no going back once I post this entry. I am opening a door that I have braced with all my might. I don’t even know why I am doing it, why I am opening it now. I have been writing for last 3 years. I have written stories and poems ... all fiction. But is there anything called fiction in this world? It’s just a part of your soul that you disguise with perfect and sometimes not-so-perfect words.

My last poem (Atonement) was almost a scream. After spending more than two decades trying to be a good girl (and succeeding, if you go by the society’s measuring tape), I am finally realizing the fact that there is something really wrong with me. I keep trying to convince myself that everyone feels that way. That everyone hurts....

The worst thing about being a freak is when you start talking about yourself, when you finally open up.. people think you are bragging. Or they think you are this evil person...
Those who get attracted (I don’t mean just the romantic sort of attraction) to you like you for the fact that you are different. They like you because you can talk and act smart.. smarter than them, most of the time.. but the moment you start breathing again... whooooosh.. they wanna ‘fix’ you.. They want you to be a normal person who reacts in a predictable way to a crisis.. or to happiness – to life.

I have caused some nasty things to happen .. to the people I have cared for. I have caused broken relationships.. and I have lost friends just bcz their significant halves felt threatened.. It hurts.. hurts bad. And then I sit back and wonder.. what did I do? More about that later....

Right now.. I have almost no friend in my own age-group.... I just can't relate to them...

I don’t think I made much sense here.. the fact is, I have held back.. held back a lot. If you thought I was bragging then you know what I mean.. This is exactly the reason I don’t write personal stuff here..

I wanna tell people what I like.. I wanna share my favourite stories.. I wanna tell everyone that I finished the complete works of Dostoyevsky before I tuned 14... I wanna share my passion for firearms.. for math.. for crazy weather.. for .....

Perhaps I am testing the waters... I don’t know if I will take the plunge..
It’s Scary.. Letting people know you.

- Chhaya
Mumbai, India

PS: That’s not me in the image :)
PS2: I am absolutely NOT looking for sympathies!!!! I would rather kill myself than change the way i am!!



Sunday, August 9, 2009

Two decades and more,
I have carried this pain.
The weight of expectations
The carcasses of my wishes slain

How much am I supposed to bear?
How much am I to change?
Why can’t I just be a freak?
Why must I wear a pretty face?

The agony is unbearable
The stigma of knowing too much
Too young to be trusted
Too old to be ignored

They try to ‘fix me’,
“It’s for your own good”, I hear
Then why do I smell it,
the rancid odour of fear?

I pretend to be atoned
of my mind untamed
living behind the perfect camouflage
of being civilized again

© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

It started as a write up and ended up as a poem... I am curious to know what you feel after reading this.

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