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“My place in this cruel landscape” – Nayana Nair

when i stood

in front of the respected uncaring adults
who could never see me,

beside the fickle-minded fun-seeking friends
who smoked ‘idgaf attitude’ every night,

holding the hands
of the demanding demeaning frightening voice
of the one i wanted to love,
the one i almost loved,

i knew how to smile.
i knew how to let them off the hook.
i knew how to care for all those
who don’t have to care for such things.

and so i make it through another day,
another month, another year,
trying not to break anyone anymore,
trying not to abandon anyone,

making a list of all things that were once beautiful about them,
convinced that this imperfect me deserves only suffocating relationships,
careful not to see hope in any short-lived moment of affection.

“Beyond Repair” – Nayana Nair

46167-Snow-Covered-Tree

At some place in my life I realized that
I was ruined beyond repair.
And when I was done with all the crying,
with all the cursing,
and being therapist
to the girl that I was .
I grew up enough
to know,
that even if I can’t be what I was,
I can still be someone.
No one had to fix me.
Someone just had to show me, that it can be done.
And all the hope, that I thought was lost,
was back in the air that once seemed suffocating.

“Hobby”- Nayana Nair

Posted on

art-colors-drawings-grunge-Favim.com-3016440

My hobby is
to find an unclaimed space in myself
and then try to color it.
Because I am bored.
Because I have trouble
that are taking up much more spaces
and this is the only space left for me
in my own life.
And here I create,
I paint my desperation, self-doubt
on the whites of my eyes.
Again I create a monster,
again a little more space I lost,
again I lost a little of my life,
and I wonder why do I suffocate myself.

“Stuck in roles” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

child1

My mother was not always my mother
She was someone else before I was her child.
Can we ever admit to our self
that our parents are also still children,
who have to act as adults.
Cause there is no other option
and they are stuck in their roles
and we want them to remain stuck.
We want them to be responsible for us,
we want our childhood to continue
even at the cost of theirs.
No matter how they suffocate.
I guess, it’s easier to believe
that my mother has always been my mother
and I am always her child.
And that’s how it will always be.
But sometimes I want to be friends
with that girl,
the girl that she was.

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