A Note From The Freshman Year

A note from my freshman year

Precisely a rant

In I don’t know  how many languages,

Scribbled on a handmade paper, maybe

Never to be read ever again.

Not quite sure, whether

Written for a me ‘then’ or a me ‘now’

But definitely written,

In a space that knew no lure to fall into

And no limits to halt itself to.

Three years later,

Hours and days and months, of

Becoming a thing that made itself to be seen

And those rare moments, of

Unbecoming to see itself.

All this while I never knew that I had an existence beyond myself

I had myself imprinted, reflected

And then closeted to oblivion.

But loss made me curl up myself and shrink

And love; made me reach out a little

So, there I stumble upon this relic from the past

That seemed like a fossil of myself

My truth reduced to words that were unbound of grammar,

Or bereft of language

And quite surprisingly, I did not shiver

Now that the dirt has enveloped, the corners

Curled up and the surface yellowed by age

The paper still felt so alive

So familiar

The note felt like myself, not so distant

So, as I began to read it, I

Felt very uncomfortable of the things I hide away from

Some truths too innate came

In like confessions

Whatever it was, wherever it came from

It was not a mirror to me,

It was a revelation.

A couple of reads and a mixed ride of emotions later

Silence made me travel time and let me

Come face to face with this belittled and confused self

And I couldn’t help but to embrace him

And much like yesterday, and a day before

We both smiled and cried at the same time

So, here I am

Making sense of the world that once noosed around my neck

And putting a brave smile to that love

Love that speaks my language,

Love that sings my songs

The note that I now safely put back to the closet

Is no more a discarded rant,

It’s an escape that shall take me to my roots, and

Remind me of

Where I come from.



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