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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() 12:00 AM: When I was younger, I called myself a princess I would put on the pink dress with the frills, pink of the flamingos And father placed a paper crown on my head, stapled together with tiny pins The same ones that mark the raw skin on my thumb now I hate everyone, but I hate her the most She stares back at me, her eyes overflowing with judgement As my abused fingers skim over my arms, belly and thighs If only I could pick up a knife and carve off the flesh there, unnecessary and unattractive Maybe then she wouldn’t be so disappointed in me, maybe then I could finally look into the mirror with the lights on. 12:30 AM: I stare into the darkness searching for all the answers I can’t find within myself I trace my past delicately, probing occasionally to figure out where it all went wrong When did I become the girl who stayed in quiet corners, her only friends imaginary? When did the towers of my castle burn down until all that was left was the bare carcass of hopeless dreams and unfulfilled desires? I choke on the rubble, salt tears soaking my pillowcase Silent screams echoing through the walls of my room, haunted by the memories of what used to be. 1:00 AM: I remember the sweet sound of mother’s lullaby, lulling me into a peaceful slumber Sleep eludes me now, the warmth seeping out of the thin blanket As I lie there with my knees drawn to my chest, forcing back the nightmares The demons are no longer under my bed, they lurk around in the tragic nooks of my brain They exploit my memories, my temple throbs with doubt Mother told me it’d be fine but my lips are too parched to draw into another fake smile. I close my eyes and they whisper, “Your fear will find you”, over and over, I can’t escape. 2:00 AM: Do you ever have a really perfect daydream? But then it starts to hurt because you realise You have filled it with all the things missing from your life And you’re suddenly hit with the fact that It’s not real and instead of being a happy refuge from reality It becomes a reminder of all the gaping holes in your heart that only fantasies can fill. 2:30 AM: The moon whispers my name, a lone dog barks out on the street My breath fogs up the window pane as I peek out from behind the gray curtains Gazing up at the inky blue abyss, my irises reflecting a paradox of emotions How? How do you survive a world that keeps taking? There was no answer from the Universe, only the chirping of crickets and The cold silence of the stars, lovely, bright and uncaring. 3:00 AM: I think we all wait for that one time though That one time when it ends right For the blood will wash away the sorrow too If I don’t live on, the sorrow will die too I used to think that if I just stopped caring, it would stop bothering me Morphed into someone who loved less deeply, but here’s the thing A heart made of stone can still break Did anyone ever tell you? The more you stare into the dark, the more you can see someone staring back at you. Anushka Maity is a 17 year old from Kolkata, India who currently spends her days staring at the computer screen for prolonged hours, reading fantasy novels and dreaming of gaining recognition as an author some day. A professionally trained classical dancer, her other hobbies include journaling, photography, making sketches of haute couture and correcting grammatical errors. Burdened with academic pressure, she seeks sanctuary in the phenomenal realm of books while simultaneously trying to figure out the labyrinth of life. Comments are closed.
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May 2023
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