try to breathe in.
try to breathe out.
his hands are on my sternum.
my mind blacks out the image.
i’m wringing my hands together.
no...i’m pulling my hair.
his breath is on my neck —my ear.
i’m pressing my palms into my eyes.
i’m not sure oxygen is making it to my lungs.
he’s making animalistic sounds.
he’s thrown my body into shock.
it’s like watching in slow motion.
—wait. no.
it’s another girl.
and another.
and another.
it’s me.
it’s her.
god, i hope it’s not you.

They asked me to stop spiralling,

As I tried explaining them

Repeatedly,

How Uncle John hurt me,

Whenever he paid a visit.

Cajoling me,

He slid his hand

And tightened the grip,

Stalled for several hours,

By narrating Vikram Betal stories

And then offered me, my favourite toffee.

Chewing it, i tried forgetting the pain.



I would be

Victim-shamed throughout my life,

Due to our historically intense patriarchy.

Everyone would drag my name through the mud,

So they shut me.

Stepping up against him,

Would jeopardize my life

They thought.

According to their theories,

I was just another irrational feminist.

So they left me,

To live with it.

Haunting me every minute, every second.

It became my worst nightmare

And like a leech, it fed on me.

As they turned oblivious to objectivity,

Trapped in their pseudo-realistic minds.

you now that gut-wrenching, soul leaving your body, existence being shattered type of pain?
the pain that keeps you up at night no matter how fully and totally exhausted you are?
when you're body is just screaming for some rest.
rest that it hasn't gotten in 4 years.
because you can not shut off your mind
so you start drinking and smoking, thinking it will make it better.
but nothing makes it better.
in fact, everything you try seems to only make it worse.
and you just want to be done.
you think that the only way you can possibly find rest is in death.
you think about dying all the time.
your therapist makes you fill out a form every time you see her.
the question that always gets you is "What is your risk of suicide?"
I always put low, but if i'm being honest, it is high.
I should be in an institution because everyday i think "taking all my pills wouldn't be that bad"
every day i just want to collapse and cry until i don't wake up.
you know that crying in movies?
the seemingly overdramatic crying where the girl is sitting in her car and screaming?
that. that is what it feels like in my head all the time.
i struggle to cry because if someone hears me, i'm afraid they would call the cops
it is the kind of screaming you were hear when someone's heart is ripped from their chest
the screaming of someone so broken that it is the only thing that can make them feel again

I sit in the shower, wishing for my brain to work the way it should.
I sit in the shower and let the water beat against my face, hoping that will drown out my thoughts and insecurities.
I sit in the shower and cry because I know no one will hear me.
I sit in the shower and question my importance here.
I sit in the shower and gag myself while I sob quietly.
I sit in the shower and take apart razor blades and let them dance across my wrists so that I will stop numbly staring at the shower wall.
I sit in the shower and wonder, if I should really be here tomorrow.
So, how do I tell my friends I sit in the shower?

my lover is leaving
dancing far away with another
her name, Nin
and as she goes
so does Will
Will who?
Will to live, of course
Nin and Will run far away
leaving gaps in the seats of the theater
empty spaces that will be filled
with people clothed in red
wearing masks labeled
happy
love
nice
giving kisses that leave you empty
flowing out into the bedsheets,
the bedsheets that you and Nin used to hide under
when the thunderstorm hit
when the lightning flashed
and you and Nin watched movies
until Will came in and tucked you to sleep
taking Nin with him,
and you would sleep peacefully,
knowing that they are right outside the door

but when you wake up
there is somebody else in your house
in the spaces that should've been filled
they whisper their names,
they could never speak loud enough to be noticed
Mia
Ana
Nia
There will be no more calm in this house
it is filled with the sound of shattering glass
breaking bones and ripped clothes
ring through the shell of a house
the house that once stood tall
now slumps in front of a heavy backpack
not able to be heard or seen

and you wait for the return of Nin
and for Will to make their way back in

and they come back
in the form of a blue pill
oblong in shape, and glimmering in the light
almost as beautiful as Nin was
and the ingredients on it say
Serotonin

my fault
“well, what were you wearing?”
my fault
“did you not fight back?”
my fault
“you should have screamed"
my fault
"why did you wait to tell anyone?"
my fault
"it just means he thought you were pretty"
my fault
     my fault
           my fault
                 my fault
                       my fault
                             YOUR FAULT.

****.
are you uncomfortable?
                 tell me
                         do you feel sick?
****.
i will say it
        over and over again
                    each time louder
                                and more angry than the last
****.
repeating, repeating, repeating
                                 until you decide to
                                                    take action
                                                            and stop blaming the victim
****.
does it scare you?
            do something about it
                       scream about how enraged
                                          you are that this is even an issue