The stranger things

1.

I have conversations with myself. Regularly. 

I imagine you up 

my stranger. 

I place you like a counter on a board game 

into moments 

which just like you

don't quite exist

2.

I walk past litter only to

walk back.

The guilt is like gravity-

rustling crisp packets and lonely branches 

pull me

back.

3.
I write poetry down
then erase it

I am scared

4.
I don't like talking on the phone-
always worried that I won't know
what to say
how to say it
when to hang up

so I don't call people
and people never call me
and I am left

hung up

5.
I cry often.
at unlikely times
in public places.
walking to school
in the staff room
on the train

So I look up

To catch the tears
and dull the pain

6.
I refuse hugs.
always

but really

most of the time
a good hug

is all I need

Heavy

In the mirror I see me

Her eyes carry bags
drowning with the
weight
of unshed tears

I ask her for a way out

but

we refuse.

Growing up is...

• realising that it has happened while you weren't looking, whatever it is...
• lying down, sprawled on your prayer mat when you've finished praying and feeling too tired to sob your heart out (true story)
• hearing conversations between your family about 'suitors' and realising that you're not in school anymore- the distant reality has arrived.
• getting a 'proper' job and realising that you're going to be getting a salary (say whaaaaaaat!)
• driving (this is a big deal for me) to work with your tote bag in the back
• taking out your younger brother into the city then having to accept the fact that he trusts you- with his life.... don't lose him- literally
• seeing old friends and having to accept that so much time has passed that you need to re-introduce yourself (alternatively, you can walk away and pretend you actually don't know them)
• having to actually think about what day/time you can meet people because EVERYONE IS BUSY
• feeling sad a lot of the time
• achieving independence, maturity, perspective... and it feeling underwhelming and overwhelming all at once
• not feeling happy but not feeling unhappy either- and not being able to understand what happiness would look like for you
• people having conversations with you about things which you feel too young to hear about
• having to take it day by day because it hurts too much but at the same time planning ahead because apparently that is life
• having an address book including people from years ago and people who you don't talk to anymore
• realising that you are that new generation adults used to talk about
• crying, crying and crying

I need a hug-

- but I am not a hugging person.

The last few days have been strange; a close relative of mine is staying with us because of personal issues, my cousin had her mehndi yesterday where her sister-in-law unleashed her marriage and family burdens on me, the same cousin's wedding is tomorrow, I start work tomorrow and I am back at school on Monday. It's a lot. But at the same time I'm not a victim in any of this. I am okay. It's just that there are a lot of thoughts going on in my head. To get it all out I'm going to bleurghhhhh it here:

• The process of moving house is strangely ceremonial; the act of packing things into boxes is bizarre. Surely, your life should be bigger than the boxes it fits inside. Alas, life exists beyond the material things and I have realised that when the boxes are packed, that's when you see your life as it really is- I suppose it returns to being in a state of affect.
• Marriage is delicate, precarious and fragile glass that cracks no matter how softly you tread on it. 
• I'm nervous about going back to school. There are people who I'm scared of seeing.
• My puzzle hasn't gone well this half-term. I wanted to have finished it. I haven't.
• I am annoyed all the time with people I care about but I can't (or won't) tell them. Things said can never be unsaid. 
• I am stuck in a loop of too many conversations with too many people who are all living in my head. 
• I visited the 'Artist and Empire' exhibition at the Tate Britain today with a friend. 
• Hands. Just, hands.

This be the verse.

I learned to take each day as it came not because each day was precious, but because the alternative was painful; looking ahead meant facing pain in the future too - the pain in the present was enough. 

When I was fifteen, I tried my hardest to tell myself things would get better. They did. Mostly. 

There would be times when my thoughts would stumble into wondering about the future. I wondered, will things change and will it stop upsetting me?

Years later, I am reminded of Larkin's poem- although I personally would switch 'parents' for 'family', in the poem.

We learn the hurt when we are young. Life numbs the pain but also remembers and re-remembers it. It doesn't ever leave us. We think it does but it creeps up like a shadow. Like an email you thought you deleted. A text you thought you didn't send. The door you left open by accident. 

Today, I remember that 15 year old girl. I want to tell her that she was right; it gets better. I am better. 

But I don't want to tell her that now, the pain she feels is different. It's another shadow that creeps behind; another email she thought she'd deleted; another text; another door. 

Another, another, another. 

Questions and answers, in no particular order.

Fish- I think. I can't be sure.

How many cups of tea do you have in a day?

I waited until I knew that no one else was in the bathroom.

How often do you remember it?

I told him first.

Did you mean to?

Always

Why did they not leave together?

It was too late to make changes.

Would you have gone?

I promised even though I knew that I couldn't-

Would you vote for the tiger or the wolf?

She laughed at me then handed it back.

Tell me the truth- what happened?

I am still falling.



*This poem is inspired by Sarah Kay's poem "Questions and Answers, In No Particular Order" from her poetry collection 'No matter the wreckage'. I love her poetry, highly recommend giving her stuff a read. Visit her website here.

What's on?

My brain is a TV screen and you
are the pixels that crackle when I'm not sure
what channel I am watching.

Sometimes, I jump
into a long running series
and forget
that I haven't
switched channels or
paused for a while.

Then I hear the crackle
and feel the dread
and see the fuzzy black
and white and grey

and I remember.