An Open Letter To Those Who Feel “Too
That was how I freed myself from wanting to be
Much”
I was raised in a somewhat traditional family. The values were
always based on love, understanding and kindness. But all that
inside a patriarchal sexist society. I can’t really blame my family
for being extremely intolerant, but they do not seem to understand
the prejudice inside of them – of us – and fight it.
I, on the other hand, fight it daily. I guess I fight it a bit too much.
I am the youngest one, from a different generation than my siblings. I
am the 20 something who wants to brace the universe with love and
acceptance. I want to – single handily if I must – save everybody from
suffering. I am aware of its impossibility. I am also aware that, as the
beautiful Audrey once said, the word impossible says itself “I’m
possible”. I am seen as a dreamer. They say I live with my head on the
clouds, with rainbows and unicorns.
I don’t. Not exactly. I know perfectly well that this world is a shitty
place. That the human race is vicious. It is a like an autoimune disease:
it wants to destroy itself idiotically, because it thinks – wrongly – that
some of us are different. But are we? Of course. We all are completely
different. Even identical twins are. But does that make any of us right?
Any of us better?
Since I was little, I never understood greed. I thought that my
wanting to know everything about the world was it. But then I
figured that I only wanted to help the others with my knowledge,
not be powerful. I don’t care about being rich. I just hate that
there are poor people in need. I simply cannot understand why
people with so much money want to keep it for themselves and not
help the others.
And it all makes me so… angry.
One of the choices I made as a teenager was to surround myself with
arts, as I found it was the only way I could be myself. Acting, painting,
dancing, singing.
what people expected me to. How I found my voice, who I was and
what I loved. Well, how I began to, at least. But it also introduced me
to a new world of people who were trying to figure out how to live as a
minority (in acceptance, not necessarily in number) in a society which
despises them. I saw how they were just like me, regardless their
gender, sexuality, skin color or wealth. We are all human beings. We
all deserve the same chances. We all deserve the same rights.
So why I, when applying for a job, have more chances of getting it
than a black girl with a resumé as good as mine? Or why a man, with
the same job as me gets a larger pay check? Why am I allowed to kiss
a boy on the streets – or marry him if I want to -, but a gay couple is
judged by the same acts? Why did I always get Barbies and not
HotWheels? Why could I play with my neighbour’s HotWheels if I
wanted to but he couldn’t play with my Barbies? Why do I get to use
the ladies room without question and a trans woman not? Are we not
the same gender? Why a guy looks weird at me if I hold the door open
for him at a date? Is being polite only for man? Why can a skinny girl
use a crop top and I can’t? I do anyways, but I get judged. O know I
do.
I question why the hell am I bellow men and thin people. I am a person
just the same. But worse even, why am I above gay, trans, black, poor
(a much painful “etc.” must be put here) people?!
I know I don’t really know how it is to suffer as they do. But I know
what suffering is and I know it is horrible. I know that no one should
ever feel like that. But I do. Too much. I guess I love the people who
surrounds me so much that I feel for them as hard as I feel for myself.
And it hurts.
Sometimes, I wish I could be apathetic regarding minorities as much
people are. But then I remember that they are in this position not only
because of the ones who rule above them, but because of the ones who
do nothing also. And I can’t bare to be part of the repression. I can’t
bare to see people getting hurt, people getting their right to being
happy with themselves taken away from them.
Why was Lennon singing about imagination? Why is it not reality yet? But I still wasn’t enough.
Why do people say we’ve advanced so much in this century if we Sure we were great, but far, far from perfect, but I told you I wanted us
can’t even accept one another? to change. To take what we had and give it the whole nine miles.
Problem is you slinked about like a teenager who’d been grounded;
I fight my prejudices everyday. I try to make at least one stranger sulking at me in the hopes I’d let you leave.
smile everyday. I make real compliments to people. I say “please”, And so I did.
“thank you” and “excuse me” all the time. I get out of my comfort Now you’re back here, years later, asking for another chance. Talking
zone to make others happy. Because I know that, in this society, about how we were meant to be.
my comfort is lazy and selfish. I fight it everyday. And I can’t However, I’ve got a learning curve; I refuse to let you back in my life
understand people who do the complete opposite. And, even if it at any capacity. I mean how can I love you and love myself at the
doesn’t affect me directly, I get mad. I get so sad. same time?
I don’t hate you, I don’t resent you.
Maybe I feel too much. Maybe I should care more about my happiness But whenever you ask to see me, I will always pause to ensure there’s
than the others’. But how can I be truly happy while the others are nothing else I’d rather be doing.
sad? I guess you can say I carry the weight of world on my shoulders. I I do miss you though, not enough to act on it and that makes me sad.
like to think I’m holding it by one of its strings, bringing it – with lots I did dream that I’d finally decided to take you up on the coffee date.
of help – to the rainbow I’m sitting on. Problem is I needed a shovel and a gift of life to hear your voice again.
And that makes me sad.
— I don’t even know where am going with this.
I write when am angry, my relief comes from watching pretty fires
Written by Batata Rodriguez fueled entirely by my written anger.
Couldn’t burn this one since last year though; so I’ll just leave it here.
Dear Ex Boyfriend, This Is Why I Refuse To —
Meet You Up
Anonymously submitted to ArtParasites
You had me, and you knew it.
You spent months and months and months getting me to look at you When Will I Ever Find Time For Myself? A
like you hang the moon then afterwards you tell me that you weren’t
ready to be mine. And I yours. Poem On How To Surpass The Glorification
That what we had was all in my head. Of The Busy
So herein lies the crucible question; what the fuck had we been doing
the whole time???
5–4–3–2–1
You kept me in ambiguity.
Wake up at 6 and butter your bread
Your couldn’t commit to either being with me or getting out of my
And watch her pour your coffee in your favourite green mug (leave out
life, and that, right there, was the equivalent of pulling down your
the milk, please)
pants and mooning at my devotion to you.
Off to work at 8
See I would have loved you bald…even fat.
Sit up straighter
Rich or poor.
Heads down (Just hit rewind)
Fingers flying on the keys at the speed of sound But you can’t
Spell out S-T-O-P And then
But you can’t 5–4–3–2–1
Glue on the envelopes Till the grass dries
Paper-tape your life together And your dog dies
All the moments that you can’t staple because you’re busy And the children are gone
Alt+Delete what you can’t and want to And you’ve lost track of just how much cheap porn you watched
File away what you can but don’t want to As the years fell by
Break for lunch beings in And you’ve never even seen your forehead crease in the mirror
5 – 4 – 3 -2 – 1 And the trees are gone
Orange juice and cold spaghetti (extra cheese please) And your house now stands in the shadows of industries
It’s dark before you remember mum’s birthday That you haven’t even heard of
A large bunch of roses 5–4–3–2–1
By speed post will suffice One more year
Heads up Before you forget
Screens down What name you call your wife if you wake up
5 – 4 – 3 -2 – 1 Shaking at 4 am
You’ve reached your floor sir Just five minutes more now
Step out, don’t stop sir And a 100 breaths to take
Pauses are made for the weak and you’re not (Watch time slip away)
Dinner’s ready (I’m working honey) 5–4–3–2–1
Read us a story dad (I’m busy tonight) You could have hit rewind
Maybe tomorrow But you were busy…
But tomorrow daddy’s working too
Daddy lives in a world where you lose if you stop —
Time’s up
Blinds down Tanvi Deshmukh
5–4–3–2–1
Until 6 in the morning
Again
Breakfast for one
Smiles for none
And on and on count
5–4–3–2–1
Quick step till you reach the car sir
And then count
5–4–3–2–1
You may cross the barrier now sir