— I'm Glad Your Sickness, Marina Tsvetaeva (translated From The Russian By Elaine Feinstein)

James Baldwin, If Beale Street Could Talk

“The acquisition of a book signalled not just the potential acquisition of knowledge but also something like the property rights to a piece of ground: the knowledge became a visitable place.”

— James Wood, Serious Noticing: Selected Essays

I’m Not/I Am

I’m Not…

I’m not the girl who would tie your tongue.

I’m not the girl who turns your head.

I’m not the girl you’d ask to prom

Or even on a date.

I’m not the girl who likes frills and lace.

I’m not the girl who’d be flirty or flighty.

I’m not the girl who you would daydream about.

I’m not the girl who everyone sees,

The one who beams beauty, radiance, and so carefree.

I’m not the one to be in the foreground.

I’m not visible to anyone.

I Am…

I am the girl you’d pass in the halls,

Who’d probably like you from afar, but never say a word.

I am the girl who’d sketch or write,

My words never reaching your heart or eyes.

I’m the girl who stands in the rain

That mixes with her tears and drowns out her cries.

I am the girl who is always the second choice.

Why on earth would I ever be the first?

I am the girl some would torment

Because I’m different and hide in the background.

I’m the girl that’s invisible to you.

The one you’d never remember until we meet again.

“The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.”

— Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

Since that fateful day in 1492, Columbus has been seen as a hero in the eyes of Americans. Recently, the horrible crimes that he committed have been the topic of a national conversation. Columbus Day is certainly a hot-button issue, but there is only one morally sound decision: America must abolish Columbus Day and replace it with a day to honor his Native American victims.

As his explorations have become a staple of U.S. history, Columbus has been molded into a symbol, not a real person. Many supporters of Columbus call him a “symbol of American success”, but he was more than a symbol. He was a complex human being, and idolizing him lets us ignore his flaws. Columbus has come to represent heroism and exploration. These are important values, so why should we taint them with Columbus’s name?

Columbus does not deserve to be honored for making a navigation mistake. On his expedition, Columbus was attempting to sail to India, not to the Americas. He ended up landing in Caribbean Islands through no effort of his own. This mistake resulted in Native Americans being called Indians for centuries, an inaccurate label. 

Columbus is often credited with discovering America. However, he didn’t discover America, because the Native Americans were already there. It’s impossible to discover a region that’s already occupied with millions of people. Furthermore, Native Americans were extremely knowledgeable about the climate and ecosystem of the Americas, and deserve honor much more for their contributions to our understanding of geography. 

Columbus enslaved the Native Americans, seeing them only as a means to profit. This wasn’t his first time trading slaves, though. Before his expedition, Columbus made a living selling African slaves in Portugal. Through his ventures in Native American slave trading, he created the Transatlantic slave trade, setting in motion our country’s most shameful and horrific piece of history.

Columbus was responsible for Native American genocide. He committed the first mass genocide of Native Americans, a massacre of 8,000,000 people. Within one generation of Columbus’s arrival, about 15,000,000 Native Americans were killed. By time Columbus left, only 100,000 Native Americans were left, and by 1542, there were only 200.

Columbus day isn’t just not “politically correct”. It’s a holiday that celebrates one of the most evil, genocidal, and racist people in history. His kill count is on par with everyone killed in World War I, and yet America still idolizes him. It’s the responsibility of legislators to replace Columbus Day with Indigenous People’s Day.

Don’t touch me if you don’t mean it.

The War Boys (2009)

“it was a cry / meant for no one / but the moon—”

— Sujata Bhatt, from “The Langur Coloured Night”, Collected Poems

Sometimes I feel like I am in a bathtub filling up faster than I can drain it. And lately, the drain is clogged and I am drowning and drowning and drowning.

I am losing air faster than I can handle; killing me slowly, suffocating me with black spots filtering over my eyes, decorating my room’s walls.

It’s a strange sensation, that of time running out. Who chained me to the bottom of this bathtub in the first place? Who is turning on the water, was it me?

I am the hand of ruin; the catalyst to my own destruction. Salvation seems beyond reason and unfathomable beneath the water.

Writing was my drain.

It breathes fire into my lungs and ice into veins. It’s the only time I feel in control, powerful… alive.

Now, the doubt, guilt and shame ties me to the silence. It weighs me down and binds my hands below. I don’t think I can tell which way is up anymore.

Words are losing meaning and the space between them is an abyss.

I am told to have hope. To write of the sun after rainy days. But what do you write about when the sun burns you charred and the rain soaks you to the bone?

God, I need five more minutes of peace.

I know it’s too much to ask, I haven’t been your favorite for years.

I am drowning, lost and fearful.

My heart has turned to solid as my body sinks further. Is floating up even worth it at this point? Or should I let the darkness continue its course? After all, who am I but a hollow vessel to tell it to stop.

"What cannot be said will be wept"

~Sappho

Saying the truth aloud could free me from this burden.Or will it not?

It's all new to me,what I'm feeling does not fall under any of the categories I've explored so far. I've fallen in a deep calm, like a lake without shores.

All I've collected in my life so far surrounds me.

I can't tell its purpose.

It does not feel as if it's trying to drown me,or even coaxing me into drowning myself.

It's distracting and compelling.

A friend told me something which is not far from the truth.The lake promptly absorbed it,and I could not see the end of what its raw form meant to me,not as I would've intended to.

It all weighs heavy on my soul.

I'm transitioning from my self-created alter ago to what I believe is my true self.

Is it hurting?I can't tell.

True pain does not feel as this does.

Maybe I'm not in pain.

It's not an option I can exclude.

Let's wait and see how this longed metamorphosis will take place.

2021/19/01

You take in the image; the bed that I sit in is a throne of safety. Your eyes are disappointed. Mine are enthralled. You ask, "what's the matter?" I tell you, "you know." You ask, "what can I do?" I tell you, "you know." The crescendo of metal from the chair excites me, and you are on your knees begging, "what can I do?" I rest my palm on your sweat soaked crown, and my final response - "you need to get your shit together." The echo of your cries mix with my empty laughter as the wolves remove you. It is followed by silence broken only by the dull dripping sound of saline against nylon. Ah, it's time for meal number five.

January 19, 2021