ME
I actually love myself so much. I am a straight narcissistic. I changed my picture on my social media the other and haven’t stopped looking at it since. I swear to god, every time I unlock my screen, it’s me. Well, I wouldn’t fucking put my own picture on my phone screen though, now that’s just not classy.
People often tell me that they thought I was arrogant looking when they first came across me. I do hold a very intense expression when unguarded and by myself. My features are a bit intense too. They always say that they were apprehensive to talk to me, but this never holds though. I am not an arrogant person, I am not even too harsh, unless I want to be. My voice is soft as fuck, and I am more introverted than anything. Most people describe me as being quiet and soft. That is true.
When I was born, it was raining, and we were smack in the middle of Ganesh Chaturthi, that year. it was a big complication, the labor lasted for days, and it was very, very difficult. The doctors said that they could only save one of us – mother or me – and my mother went into a coma after giving birth to me. I was lucky to be born, to be fair, in a situation like this, all chubby and with a head full of curls, it seems. My mother wasn’t conscious for another few days, and then she did come to, she was pretty weak for a bit after. They had to ask other new mothers to feed me. People loved me in the ward, they say, because of all the hair and the chubbiness.
They even had to change my name thrice when I was born. First, they had named me Cynthia, which my bother hated, and then, when Jemery nana went to change it, he spelled it wrong, ‘Sophi’, and then they finally managed to do it correctly. I also changed my name again in twenty eighteen, because this numerology fucker said it would help me. Now it’s spelled with an ‘H’ at the end, and sometimes I feel like it doesn’t belong to me.
There is a lot of things about myself that feel like they don’t belong to me, especially these days. These days I have become a bit more morose and weepier, but that’s purely situational. I have become more socially anxious than I used to be, or at least I am more vocal about it, since I have a partner to lean on and who really helps me work through it. I used to just internalize all of this. I am more tired than usual, that I have ever been before, but that's just because we work service. Only recently have I managed to claw my way into some architecture work. It was really fucking amazing, very exhausting, but amazing. I spent the last five weeks of my life working fifty hours every week and then coming home and going off until three four in the morning.
I have live a number of different lives, too, and it had been amazing.
Growing up in Mumbai was extremely fucking volatile. I don’t really remember too much of my childhood, but it was volatile. We lived in a lot of different places, mostly with grandparents and uncles and aunts. Shade and I would also live with different people sometimes, and away from each other, and that seemed to be okay too. When I was born, things were rough, and when my brother was born, things were even worse for a while. I was born in the slums near the fish markets in Dahisar, and it was really nice, I lived with my grandparents in the slums near the highway in Dahisar east too, that was where most of my extended family used to live together for a while. I remember going to the shops when was younger, all of them were placed along the front, along the roads, obviously. I remember buying chilies and getting it wrong. There were so many earthworms there, and there wasn’t really any separation between the inside and the outside. I fucking hate earthworms.
One time I got my foot stuck and cut when I was taking a shit in the public latrine. Imagine that. When I was younger, my grandfather used to take me to the temple at the end of the road, a small one, and we would go and feed the money there, every evening, and it is probably one of the fondest memories of my childhood. One time, we went to go feed the monkey in the evening, and we weren’t able to find him in the cage, and we looked and looked, and before we could leave, the monkey came out of his hiding from under somewhere and attacked nana, and it was fucking horrible. We went in the hospital together in an ambulance, he had gotten bitten, and at that time we didn’t have any fucking cellphones or nothing, so someone – I am assuming – ran down to our house to tell them about the incident. I went to the clinic with him, and I sat with him while he got a tetanus shot.
People often tell me that they thought I was arrogant looking when they first came across me. I do hold a very intense expression when unguarded and by myself. My features are a bit intense too. They always say that they were apprehensive to talk to me, but this never holds though. I am not an arrogant person, I am not even too harsh, unless I want to be. My voice is soft as fuck, and I am more introverted than anything. Most people describe me as being quiet and soft. That is true.
When I was born, it was raining, and we were smack in the middle of Ganesh Chaturthi, that year. it was a big complication, the labor lasted for days, and it was very, very difficult. The doctors said that they could only save one of us – mother or me – and my mother went into a coma after giving birth to me. I was lucky to be born, to be fair, in a situation like this, all chubby and with a head full of curls, it seems. My mother wasn’t conscious for another few days, and then she did come to, she was pretty weak for a bit after. They had to ask other new mothers to feed me. People loved me in the ward, they say, because of all the hair and the chubbiness.
They even had to change my name thrice when I was born. First, they had named me Cynthia, which my bother hated, and then, when Jemery nana went to change it, he spelled it wrong, ‘Sophi’, and then they finally managed to do it correctly. I also changed my name again in twenty eighteen, because this numerology fucker said it would help me. Now it’s spelled with an ‘H’ at the end, and sometimes I feel like it doesn’t belong to me.
There is a lot of things about myself that feel like they don’t belong to me, especially these days. These days I have become a bit more morose and weepier, but that’s purely situational. I have become more socially anxious than I used to be, or at least I am more vocal about it, since I have a partner to lean on and who really helps me work through it. I used to just internalize all of this. I am more tired than usual, that I have ever been before, but that's just because we work service. Only recently have I managed to claw my way into some architecture work. It was really fucking amazing, very exhausting, but amazing. I spent the last five weeks of my life working fifty hours every week and then coming home and going off until three four in the morning.
I have live a number of different lives, too, and it had been amazing.
Growing up in Mumbai was extremely fucking volatile. I don’t really remember too much of my childhood, but it was volatile. We lived in a lot of different places, mostly with grandparents and uncles and aunts. Shade and I would also live with different people sometimes, and away from each other, and that seemed to be okay too. When I was born, things were rough, and when my brother was born, things were even worse for a while. I was born in the slums near the fish markets in Dahisar, and it was really nice, I lived with my grandparents in the slums near the highway in Dahisar east too, that was where most of my extended family used to live together for a while. I remember going to the shops when was younger, all of them were placed along the front, along the roads, obviously. I remember buying chilies and getting it wrong. There were so many earthworms there, and there wasn’t really any separation between the inside and the outside. I fucking hate earthworms.
One time I got my foot stuck and cut when I was taking a shit in the public latrine. Imagine that. When I was younger, my grandfather used to take me to the temple at the end of the road, a small one, and we would go and feed the money there, every evening, and it is probably one of the fondest memories of my childhood. One time, we went to go feed the monkey in the evening, and we weren’t able to find him in the cage, and we looked and looked, and before we could leave, the monkey came out of his hiding from under somewhere and attacked nana, and it was fucking horrible. We went in the hospital together in an ambulance, he had gotten bitten, and at that time we didn’t have any fucking cellphones or nothing, so someone – I am assuming – ran down to our house to tell them about the incident. I went to the clinic with him, and I sat with him while he got a tetanus shot.
I travelled a lot to go to school; I’d wake up at fucking four in the morning to get ready to go get a hour something long bus – the first person to be picked up and the last person to be dropped. My grandfather would take me all across the whole of Dahisar east and we would cross a hill and the entire market and walk across the rail lines, to go to the Dahisar west, because the busses wouldn’t go as far as our house anymore, and we would wait there, in front of a huge bank, and meet my mother there. She would bring us snacks and my lunch. She would always scold my grandfather because he carried me over the hill and along most of the way on his shoulder. I was too big for that.
I do a lot of stupid things, and I used to do a lot of fucked up things too, and my memory of most of this is partially lost to me.
When I was older, I really failed at studying, it was really fucking boring, and it was so hard, and I did not stand up to a lot of expectations that what been put on me, just like almost every fucking one else on this planet. For a long, long time, I didn’t know what I really wanted to do in life, and who I was or who I wanted to be. It was all so confusing. I used to drink so much at one point in my life, so much, every day. I guess I have always been deeply depressed and not known it. It was crazy, that period of time, not one fucking hangover. My brother and I used to sneak out of the house all the time, to go out, to get drunk, whatever the fuck. It was so funny, there was a bell at our door, so to not make any noise while coming in or going out, we figured we had to open the door slightly, reach up and hold the bell, and then, holding it out of the way, open the door completely, step in, and repeat to close the door. It’s funny that we never got caught, we had two fucking doors in that house.
One time I came home so drunk, it was a wonder how I even managed to get into the house, I don’t even remember where I was drinking at, or whom I was with, but I came home, and went to bed, and then threw up all over myself and the fucking bed, and then cleaned the entire mess up. I couldn’t even see anything at this point. I put all the ruined sheets into the basket and stumbled around the bathroom to clean myself. I don’t know how, but I ended up with my head under the tap. Cold water running on my head, into my hair, around my neck, in my nose. It was one of the most beautiful feelings I have ever experienced. I lay there for the whole night, passed out half the time and then pulled myself into bed and got a blood test the next day for food poisoning or some shit to show for the mess that I had made.
I was put into Architecture school, and that changed my life. I am an Architect now, it’s been a decade.
I met a guy I fell in love with and that changed me. I found myself. I discovered the person I wanted to be, and I realized a lot of things about who I was. I began to really love myself as I fell in love with him. Being with Tanish was the first time in my life when I saw myself. I knew who I wanted to be then. It was so beautiful, to fall in love like this, in a twofold way. Things got very complicated then, and I also realized that I am a person who loves complications. I moved away and fell in love with another person, and that was a joyride that ended with a crash and then ended again with a lot of self-discipline. I learned about how I loved. It was lovely, to love someone, to learn to be with someone else, to understand and experience true intimacy. It was heavy, all of my feelings for this man, and I loved that, I have always been a feeling person, and it was nice to be able to lean into this, into a big love, into all this passion. I realized that loving someone else made me more myself. Heartbreak even more so. I made big mistakes then, I didn’t think I was good enough with the first one, and I didn’t think being open about just how much I felt would be a good idea later. I was not mature enough then.
Going to Auroville was already the best move I had made in life, but going back again helped define my entire being, and has made me the person that I am today.
Just very recently I realized that even though I say that I was single and by myself I that period of time when I went back, it is not necessarily true. Sure, I wasn’t in a relationship, but that was just in definition. I was still going around with a cunt – on the low – and also cheating on him with so many fucking people in the back. I was by myself though, I became myself. This was when I really defined my own being, my personality, my attitude and my behaviors, myself. I learned to respect myself, to love myself so completely, and learned how to be happy, to make myself happy. I became so strong.
I do a lot of stupid things, and I used to do a lot of fucked up things too, and my memory of most of this is partially lost to me.
When I was older, I really failed at studying, it was really fucking boring, and it was so hard, and I did not stand up to a lot of expectations that what been put on me, just like almost every fucking one else on this planet. For a long, long time, I didn’t know what I really wanted to do in life, and who I was or who I wanted to be. It was all so confusing. I used to drink so much at one point in my life, so much, every day. I guess I have always been deeply depressed and not known it. It was crazy, that period of time, not one fucking hangover. My brother and I used to sneak out of the house all the time, to go out, to get drunk, whatever the fuck. It was so funny, there was a bell at our door, so to not make any noise while coming in or going out, we figured we had to open the door slightly, reach up and hold the bell, and then, holding it out of the way, open the door completely, step in, and repeat to close the door. It’s funny that we never got caught, we had two fucking doors in that house.
One time I came home so drunk, it was a wonder how I even managed to get into the house, I don’t even remember where I was drinking at, or whom I was with, but I came home, and went to bed, and then threw up all over myself and the fucking bed, and then cleaned the entire mess up. I couldn’t even see anything at this point. I put all the ruined sheets into the basket and stumbled around the bathroom to clean myself. I don’t know how, but I ended up with my head under the tap. Cold water running on my head, into my hair, around my neck, in my nose. It was one of the most beautiful feelings I have ever experienced. I lay there for the whole night, passed out half the time and then pulled myself into bed and got a blood test the next day for food poisoning or some shit to show for the mess that I had made.
I was put into Architecture school, and that changed my life. I am an Architect now, it’s been a decade.
I met a guy I fell in love with and that changed me. I found myself. I discovered the person I wanted to be, and I realized a lot of things about who I was. I began to really love myself as I fell in love with him. Being with Tanish was the first time in my life when I saw myself. I knew who I wanted to be then. It was so beautiful, to fall in love like this, in a twofold way. Things got very complicated then, and I also realized that I am a person who loves complications. I moved away and fell in love with another person, and that was a joyride that ended with a crash and then ended again with a lot of self-discipline. I learned about how I loved. It was lovely, to love someone, to learn to be with someone else, to understand and experience true intimacy. It was heavy, all of my feelings for this man, and I loved that, I have always been a feeling person, and it was nice to be able to lean into this, into a big love, into all this passion. I realized that loving someone else made me more myself. Heartbreak even more so. I made big mistakes then, I didn’t think I was good enough with the first one, and I didn’t think being open about just how much I felt would be a good idea later. I was not mature enough then.
Going to Auroville was already the best move I had made in life, but going back again helped define my entire being, and has made me the person that I am today.
Just very recently I realized that even though I say that I was single and by myself I that period of time when I went back, it is not necessarily true. Sure, I wasn’t in a relationship, but that was just in definition. I was still going around with a cunt – on the low – and also cheating on him with so many fucking people in the back. I was by myself though, I became myself. This was when I really defined my own being, my personality, my attitude and my behaviors, myself. I learned to respect myself, to love myself so completely, and learned how to be happy, to make myself happy. I became so strong.
Coming to London was a bit crazy too, it was where I met the love of my life, my partner. He shows me every fucking day the meaning of being loved by someone. He is the only person I can be myself with, and so completely, it blows my mind. We live together, and we laugh a lot, we play around a lot too, and we are almost always fucking angry. He makes me happy, and he understands me. He says that he wants to cut his skin open and stich himself to me so that we can be one person and be together for every single moment of our lives, and isn’t that what literally all of my fucking poems are about?
I learned how to ride a bike. Someone once told me that they were so amazed by me, the way that I had changed, how they had seen me go around on a moped looking a bit small and lost, and then seen me on a bike, sunglasses on, all grown, doing my thing, running around the whole of Auroville by myself. It was so weird to think about this when I was in London, in the first weeks here in twenty-two and I was so fucking afraid to even go to the grocery stores that I starved myself for three days and called my mom crying and at the height of a panic attack.
I have done so many fucking stupid things in life. I have never been afraid of consequences. I usually do things compulsively. It’s fucking amazing. I am also very selective about how and with whom I spend my time. I value my time, and I am more introverted, less social. I get sad easily and I whine a lot, and then I just fucking do things. My voice is soft. I don’t like to talk too much either. There have only been three people I have encountered in my entire life that I can talk to endlessly. People think that I am soft too, but I prove that wrong all the time. The one thing I will always stand for is self-respect. I don’t like to be treated unfairly.
I have been letting my hair grow long for some time now. It gets really hard to wash it, so hair-wash day is only once a week. It looks beautiful. I like cats better than dogs, and I would love to adopt a lot of pets one day, but then I am not sure if I would be a good caretaker for them. I water my plants too much, I kill them, if I see even the smallest bit of anything wrong with them, I freak out like this. Not sure how that would fair with animals, or even children. My panic usually has no restrain. Anxiety has take a very central role in my mental make-up. London has roughed me up so much, it feels like I have aged a million years, but I guess that’s all that you can say about growing into an adulthood, into the world around you. Most days I feel so low, not even being held by the love of my life, all of his sweet, sweet words, do nothing to help. Most days I am just thinking of surviving the next couple of hours and the last time I had a day off I slept for eighteen hours straight and wake up wishing I could sleep some more. I love to sleep, I really do. I love it.
I learned how to ride a bike. Someone once told me that they were so amazed by me, the way that I had changed, how they had seen me go around on a moped looking a bit small and lost, and then seen me on a bike, sunglasses on, all grown, doing my thing, running around the whole of Auroville by myself. It was so weird to think about this when I was in London, in the first weeks here in twenty-two and I was so fucking afraid to even go to the grocery stores that I starved myself for three days and called my mom crying and at the height of a panic attack.
I have done so many fucking stupid things in life. I have never been afraid of consequences. I usually do things compulsively. It’s fucking amazing. I am also very selective about how and with whom I spend my time. I value my time, and I am more introverted, less social. I get sad easily and I whine a lot, and then I just fucking do things. My voice is soft. I don’t like to talk too much either. There have only been three people I have encountered in my entire life that I can talk to endlessly. People think that I am soft too, but I prove that wrong all the time. The one thing I will always stand for is self-respect. I don’t like to be treated unfairly.
I have been letting my hair grow long for some time now. It gets really hard to wash it, so hair-wash day is only once a week. It looks beautiful. I like cats better than dogs, and I would love to adopt a lot of pets one day, but then I am not sure if I would be a good caretaker for them. I water my plants too much, I kill them, if I see even the smallest bit of anything wrong with them, I freak out like this. Not sure how that would fair with animals, or even children. My panic usually has no restrain. Anxiety has take a very central role in my mental make-up. London has roughed me up so much, it feels like I have aged a million years, but I guess that’s all that you can say about growing into an adulthood, into the world around you. Most days I feel so low, not even being held by the love of my life, all of his sweet, sweet words, do nothing to help. Most days I am just thinking of surviving the next couple of hours and the last time I had a day off I slept for eighteen hours straight and wake up wishing I could sleep some more. I love to sleep, I really do. I love it.