sunnydelight227
08-18-2010, 07:36 PM
Time passes by.
Iʼm on the train back to my studio apartment in Manhattan. I spent the weekend in New Jersey. I needed to get out of the city. I saw some faces from the past... old friends, old lovers... er- lover actually, singular. Steph. Sheʼs leaving for Italy next week, for a few months. Itʼll be the first time in three years i wonʼt have her near me, wonʼt have her to talk to.
We started dating the summer after high school graduation. It was supposed to be nothing more than a summer fling. By the end we wanted more but there was something standing in my way.
Things changed ever since my older sister ran away from home to marry a muslim man. I mean a Sikh girl with a muslim man? It was unheard of and made my family and I outcasts in the Sikh community. My parents then vowed to make sure i wouldnʼt disobey them in a similar way. To them this meant reminding me daily that if i was ever with a non-Sikh girl they would disown me.
I was nine years old.
Theyʼll never know how much that changed me, from an extreme loss of self confidence to having a fear of getting close to any girl... even if it was strictly friendly. I donʼt blame them though. They did what they thought was best. They were scared. Fear always makes people do strange things. And after all theyʼre just children... children who turned into husband and wife, who turned into father and mother.
So the Summer was coming to an end. Me and Steph were supposed to end the fling but we both didnʼt want to. We had to make a decision. I had to make a decision.
Hurt my parents? or Hurt the girl I loved?
Either way I was going to get hurt. So I didnʼt make a decision, i continued to lie to my parents and towards Steph... pretending everything was OK. Two years later it of course blows up in my face. Everyone got hurt. I fled here to New York.
Steph and I remained friends though, every once in a while relapsing to have sex in my apartment. Sheʼs the only thing that makes me happy anymore. Ever since my dadʼs stroke left him paralyzed the world doesnʼt seem to be the same shade. But i donʼt like to talk about that.
As I make my transfer from the E to the 6 train I think about my two best friends from high school i also visited, Josh and JJ. Theyʼre both doing alright, as alright as a person can be, i mean. They both seem to be struggling with some sexuality issues... possibly towards each other. Iʼve tried to help, but thereʼs only so much an outsider can do.
We had a pretty morbid conversation last night as we finished our pizza and Sprite. Josh asked how we would, hypothetically, kill ourselves.
JJ joked, saying heʼd go out in a blaze of glory in some sort of epic shootout with the police. Strangely enough heʼs training to work for the FBI.
Josh said heʼd light himself on fire and burn alive. Even after we warned him itʼd be the most painful way to die.
I said iʼd simply jump off a tall skyscraper. I think itʼd be exhilarating to feel nothing but air beneath you. Iʼm curious what iʼd think about on the way down though. Would it be my family?... my past?.... maybe Steph. Whatever my thoughts would be iʼm sure theyʼd be nothing but truth... no hint of outside influence, only me.
I get off at 86th Street and start walking the five blocks to my apartment. All the reasons I left the city come rushing back to me as I walk by a woman wearing a fur coat. She doesnʼt even glance at the woman beside her who wears a newspaper coat and is digging through the trash for food.
Some people make me sick.
As i walk I try my best to not let all the stares bother me. When youʼre a fully bearded, turban wearing Sikh man in a post 9/11 America you canʼt let the stares get to you or youʼll go crazy. Maybe i learned that a little too late in this life.
Seeing smiling faces usually cheers me up, gives me hope that it is possible to be happy. Like someday something will just click and iʼll be content. I see a nine-year-old happily walking beside her mother. She cowered in fear at the sight of me and clenched her momʼs hand even tighter. Her mom didnʼt seem pleased to see me either. As much as iʼd like to, some peopleʼs actions i just canʼt justify. I remember nine-years-old. I remember wishing i was am ordinary white boy so i could just fit in. I used to envy them so much, I certainly donʼt anymore. They grow up and tend to see a white washed world. I see the real world... maybe a shade darker.
As i get closer to my apartment all I can think about is the joint i have waiting for me. Most people say they need marijuana to sleep, Iʼm ashamed to say itʼs the only thing that gets me to wake up anymore.
I get into my apartment. After putting my things away i sit down with a bottle of rum and my joint. Time passes by as I sit and reflect on how I got here... to this point. Iʼm bothered by it. What bothers me more is where iʼll go from here. I seem to be at a fork in the road.
I look at myself in the mirror. The same mirror iʼve been looking into since i was nine. And i suddenly realize- here i am...over ten years later and i still hate every bit of me. And iʼm just as scared as i was then.
Iʼm filled with fear.
A moment passes, felt like a second but couldʼve been an hour. The mirror is now shattered, pieces of me all over the floor. Tears rolling down my face and all i have to look forward to... all i can hope for is that time will keep passing by.
Iʼm on the train back to my studio apartment in Manhattan. I spent the weekend in New Jersey. I needed to get out of the city. I saw some faces from the past... old friends, old lovers... er- lover actually, singular. Steph. Sheʼs leaving for Italy next week, for a few months. Itʼll be the first time in three years i wonʼt have her near me, wonʼt have her to talk to.
We started dating the summer after high school graduation. It was supposed to be nothing more than a summer fling. By the end we wanted more but there was something standing in my way.
Things changed ever since my older sister ran away from home to marry a muslim man. I mean a Sikh girl with a muslim man? It was unheard of and made my family and I outcasts in the Sikh community. My parents then vowed to make sure i wouldnʼt disobey them in a similar way. To them this meant reminding me daily that if i was ever with a non-Sikh girl they would disown me.
I was nine years old.
Theyʼll never know how much that changed me, from an extreme loss of self confidence to having a fear of getting close to any girl... even if it was strictly friendly. I donʼt blame them though. They did what they thought was best. They were scared. Fear always makes people do strange things. And after all theyʼre just children... children who turned into husband and wife, who turned into father and mother.
So the Summer was coming to an end. Me and Steph were supposed to end the fling but we both didnʼt want to. We had to make a decision. I had to make a decision.
Hurt my parents? or Hurt the girl I loved?
Either way I was going to get hurt. So I didnʼt make a decision, i continued to lie to my parents and towards Steph... pretending everything was OK. Two years later it of course blows up in my face. Everyone got hurt. I fled here to New York.
Steph and I remained friends though, every once in a while relapsing to have sex in my apartment. Sheʼs the only thing that makes me happy anymore. Ever since my dadʼs stroke left him paralyzed the world doesnʼt seem to be the same shade. But i donʼt like to talk about that.
As I make my transfer from the E to the 6 train I think about my two best friends from high school i also visited, Josh and JJ. Theyʼre both doing alright, as alright as a person can be, i mean. They both seem to be struggling with some sexuality issues... possibly towards each other. Iʼve tried to help, but thereʼs only so much an outsider can do.
We had a pretty morbid conversation last night as we finished our pizza and Sprite. Josh asked how we would, hypothetically, kill ourselves.
JJ joked, saying heʼd go out in a blaze of glory in some sort of epic shootout with the police. Strangely enough heʼs training to work for the FBI.
Josh said heʼd light himself on fire and burn alive. Even after we warned him itʼd be the most painful way to die.
I said iʼd simply jump off a tall skyscraper. I think itʼd be exhilarating to feel nothing but air beneath you. Iʼm curious what iʼd think about on the way down though. Would it be my family?... my past?.... maybe Steph. Whatever my thoughts would be iʼm sure theyʼd be nothing but truth... no hint of outside influence, only me.
I get off at 86th Street and start walking the five blocks to my apartment. All the reasons I left the city come rushing back to me as I walk by a woman wearing a fur coat. She doesnʼt even glance at the woman beside her who wears a newspaper coat and is digging through the trash for food.
Some people make me sick.
As i walk I try my best to not let all the stares bother me. When youʼre a fully bearded, turban wearing Sikh man in a post 9/11 America you canʼt let the stares get to you or youʼll go crazy. Maybe i learned that a little too late in this life.
Seeing smiling faces usually cheers me up, gives me hope that it is possible to be happy. Like someday something will just click and iʼll be content. I see a nine-year-old happily walking beside her mother. She cowered in fear at the sight of me and clenched her momʼs hand even tighter. Her mom didnʼt seem pleased to see me either. As much as iʼd like to, some peopleʼs actions i just canʼt justify. I remember nine-years-old. I remember wishing i was am ordinary white boy so i could just fit in. I used to envy them so much, I certainly donʼt anymore. They grow up and tend to see a white washed world. I see the real world... maybe a shade darker.
As i get closer to my apartment all I can think about is the joint i have waiting for me. Most people say they need marijuana to sleep, Iʼm ashamed to say itʼs the only thing that gets me to wake up anymore.
I get into my apartment. After putting my things away i sit down with a bottle of rum and my joint. Time passes by as I sit and reflect on how I got here... to this point. Iʼm bothered by it. What bothers me more is where iʼll go from here. I seem to be at a fork in the road.
I look at myself in the mirror. The same mirror iʼve been looking into since i was nine. And i suddenly realize- here i am...over ten years later and i still hate every bit of me. And iʼm just as scared as i was then.
Iʼm filled with fear.
A moment passes, felt like a second but couldʼve been an hour. The mirror is now shattered, pieces of me all over the floor. Tears rolling down my face and all i have to look forward to... all i can hope for is that time will keep passing by.