my life, poems etc.

On being a slut

My cotton briefs sit by my lacy bra leṭte  

Ink stained fingers wear seductive reds

My hair dishevelled and lobes twice pierced

Legs pour out of the shorts stretched across my derriere

Christian faith nestled in boastful cleavage

My morals looser than my lovers by the sewage

Brought up in elite upscale high rises

 I drive downtown for my sunrises 

The thunder reigning over me

Making your structure a mockery

And yet I am a slut for nothing more

Than all these sins my sisters branded me for

All these luxuries I allowed myself

Cashed out on the moral credit I once held

This generation they call themselves new

Rebels like me the deviant few

Monogamous monotonous daughters and mothers

On your wrinkles the dark age hovers

The feminist you claimed to be

Pigs more understanding than she

my articles, my life

Why is ’13 reasons why’ important?

Anyone who is keeping up with trending news topics would be well aware of the controversial Netflix series release of ’13 Reasons Why’

For those who don’t know about it yet, the show is a drama series following the story behind a high schooler’s suicide. It explores the 13 reasons that compelled her to do the unreasonable as she had confessed in 13 tapes. And as irrelevant as it sounds to many adults presently scoffing at “teenage” dramas, I promise it’s not. 

The series isn’t centred solely on the suicide, while it is the crux of the plot, it opens its panels to more issues. Issues like ‘bullying’. 

‘Bullying’ too meek a word to cover its impact. It takes many forms and many victims. It can be peer pressure, societal expectations or even parental pressure that motivates fear in young adults. Children at the burgeoning age of choices. Sadly also the age with the highest suicide rates, a fact informing cynics that we too have problems. That age doesn’t determine the severity of the issue or if it merits aid. That all things deadly aren’t physical but also mental.

There is much talk about how the show may be triggering to other suicidal individuals or survivors. I wouldn’t argue with that. But I will tell you this- The series doesn’t glamorise suicide as the only way to justice. It explains the impact of an individual’s absence on people. The impact of people refusing help or being too ignorant to be concerned enough to offer.The fact that while you may feel alone, you never are. There are always those who would be there for you, tell you better. 

The series also talks about rape, the struggles of closeted people and many more problems struggling to walk out from under the veil of taboo in “developing” India and even the world. It is a series that adolescents must see. A series parents must see. A series families must discuss. Because no one looks suicidal unless you look hard enough. Because suicide isn’t cowardice and mustn’t be ever pitied. Suicide is a comment on an individual’s social environment and not their strength. Because they always leave signs. And there are always reasons. Because there are multiple stories to answer one ‘why’. And to understand that you must give this effort a chance. It has become an epidemic that needs to be stopped.

And you must be the one who helps do that. Don’t be someone’s reason why. 

my life, poems etc.

On fear

Daylight passes in nerve racking anxiety

As my heart searches common ground to bond

And night comes a forced conversation

A small hope of tomorrow for one sided love

And I hated living an obsessed infatuated doom

But years had jailed me in anxious prisons

With empty nights and secret days

A pathetic circle with you across

My aching mind cries ever lost

And what I seek know I won’t find

But searching everyday for an end a cure

When frustrated I almost confess my soul pure

Panic stopping my sin in my lungs

Breath ragged gasps of misfortune 

Said nothing of deep fears repressed entrenched

For future spelled us only miles and seas

Spaces I couldn’t believe you’d foresee 

In the end truth left torment torn

Knew the world not for me but some other

You were yours and I was mine

And since we spoke of nothing more

a daisy's life, my life

Self Pity July

This is July and so far it’s killing me. The writer’s block lasted a year and would’ve continued if not for sudden drives of exhilaration in the middle of the night. 

Without further ado I’ll get into  what my life looks like right now. This year is one of decisions. Its my last year in high school and I have just realised how little I have lived it. After repeated episodes of social suicides I reserve myself to safe choices. To people who have grown to accept me for who I am. Fully aware of my life on the relationship front, I have started researching on cats. The Scottish fold and Bombay cat stand a good chance right now.

Academically, I might as well be an incompetent bum. A complacent back bencher who slides in his chair, sits tongue-tied throughout education and walks out wearing the pretense of ignorance to hide the reality of accepted failure.Thats who I have become.Swimming has reduced to being just a workout. I no longer enjoy it or excel in it.

Sadly enough, hardly anything makes me happy now.I don’t een remember the last time I laughed loudly or smiled stupidly .Can’t blame anyone but myself for this. But then again, I dont know how to stop. I secretly beg for a sign to prove myself wrong but end up predicting my own shortcomings, slowly rendering me into invisibility. Alone.The only one in my grade who hasn’t ever connected with anything or anyone yet.

I’m not a daisy.I’m like chimney smoke.Aa reminder of the fire that used to be. The undesirable inevitability. I hope I get into a college and make myself a life I’d like myself in.More than that, I hope I learn to smile more then cry.

Setting the sob story aside,I’m going to focus on getting better and writing more:)

a daisy's life, my life

the rant

Tests are finally over and i can live my life again!!! 

This is how i should have felt but then the reality cracked in …. We live in a world of sadists and deadlines. A world where imagination goes to die and freedom is an illusion.

Yes…i am refering to the dreaded subject of HOMEWORK!

Considering that i only spend 6 consious hours at my house…the time for homework i have not!! Living in a family functioning like a circus…with a never ending circuit of crisis, the presence of homework is overwhelming and repulsive.

But ranting about homework is ever so common. The thing i wanted to rant about was how i dont get enough time to do my favourite things in the world: read and write. by the time i come home i am fragile as a daisy (– that pun tho).

The problem remains… My routine doesnt allow me to have enough time to enjoy the apparently most amazing time of my life…who spread that rumour?!

Now, I can tell from personal experience that being a teenager in this century is ANYTHING but fun!! And if this is seriously the best time of my life…then i cant wait to get old!

Sarcasm aside, it deeply disturbs me to imagine myself distancing from books and writing. 

So, with this post i conclude with a resolution: to write one post weekly at least!

Love

-daisy