“i have to forget more than just you” – Nayana Nair

love, for me at least,
was (is) not something
that can ever be abandoned

but it turns out
it is also not a flame
that i can preserve (save) by myself

as the fireflies
in my heart fade (die) silently,
i try not to let my existence fade in my own eyes

it is so unfair (sad) that the “me” who loved
should make excuses to the “me” who is suffering now

it is unfair (sadder)
that i have to give up on love
just because someone gave up on me

“What I Remember (20)” – Nayana Nair

I am told I am not wise,
that I do not have the intellect
that could make anyone swoon over me.
I try too hard, put too much effort
to be considered worth protecting.
I rank even lower on the stats of beauty.
I know that since I have found discarded papers
written by boys-who-will-always-be-boys
who document my plummeting desirability religiously.
But since I am not the type to conform
(tsk tskÔÇŽso many vices)
I cannot help but choose to take on the role
of the bitter girl
and judge in my mind everyone
who cruelly prosecutes me in jokes and harmless fun in my absence,
but are kind enough to leave behind enough clues
for me to figure out where I must stand in this world.

It has become my habit to consider them desperate,
manipulative and not worth my time or attention.
I know now, how to look down on everyone who looks down on me.
It’s a wonderful feeling really.
To feel like a flawed monster with some control.
To be free from the want to be understood by the “cool” people.
To stop expecting for things to change.
I have enough paranoia and enough stubbornness
to last this lifetime.
I have enough reasons to hate passionately all those who hate me.
I may know too less about life,
I may underestimate the phrase “but-tomorrow-you-might-need-them”
but I cannot turn my other cheek
and I cannot let myself want to be a friends/minion of theirs.
My heart may be dissolving in my own acidic hate for this world
But at least I know I took on my own side in all my fights.
I may not expect much from world, but expect a lot from myself.
This is the bare minimum I can do
to preserve myself in this world that changes everyone in the name of fun.

“The Dying Voices of my Angels” – Nayana Nair

Hold this,
whatever this is.

Hold this
till I find a way to hide it,
get rid of it,
or kill it.

They say I will die the moment
I set the monster in me ablaze.
But this is the reason
warnings no longer work on me.

This is why I cannot live the way I want.

This is why ‘what I now want’
is ‘what I never ever wanted to want’.

Don’t take pity on me
nor on this thing that eats me
and replaces my every cell
with hateful words
and spiteful actions.

Why are you holding me down?
Why are you holding me back?
Why do you want to preserve me like this-
at my worst?

I am becoming better at creating excuses.
I am becoming better at forgetting the hurt I cause.

It kills me to see myself straying away from my ideals.
Doesn’t that matter a bit?

“Draw” – Nayana Nair

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I do not draw you.
But my memory of you.
A time in my life,
the moment lost.
With only a memory left behind
that withers everyday.
I do not draw you
to preserves you,
who lives well off
in a warm home
in a cold country.
But I draw you
who lit my mind,
and froze my heart in an eternal hope
The only you I could ever love,
yet never love.
The one who burns my life
one day a time.
The one who I must forget.

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