“i have dug my way
out the ground
with palm and fist many times
my whole life has been
one burial after another
i will find my way
out of you just fine”
– rupi kaur
I love rupi kaur. I wish I’d known about her in matric when I was a little more sad than I am now. Her words would have pulled me up by the ears out of the ditch I had made for myself, sat me down and told me to get a grip. There were days in the middle of my 18th year when I woke up unable to breathe. I had my lights punched out one by one by someone who hardly deserved my illumination and it took months for me to set myself alight once again.
I’ve been slowly building up a repertoire of demons to avoid. Self-involved, crazy, cowardly demons that hardly compliment mine. With each blow, it gets easier to move on. I cry a little less, I pull myself together a lot quicker, I stop myself from falling into the disastrous black hole inside me that spews out really shitty feelings. Instead, I get new piercings, dye my hair severe colours, cut six inches of him off the ends.
I do everything I can to avoid the devil on my back that whispers soft doubts into my ear. And somehow, it works.
Recently I took a day, I had my first quiet moment in 2 weeks and the feelings that came with that silence were so blindingly angry. I’d been suppressing them with laughs and nights out and studying, I’d been holding them down with assurances that they weren’t there – they don’t exist, I’m okay.
So when they finally boiled to the surface, I took a day. I went for a run just to feel the ache of my muscles instead of the one in my soul. I got home and sat in scalding hot water, kissed my bruised knees and told every single scar and freckle how lucky they are to be so unique. I sat in my lemon-scented towel and traced the lines of my palms, committing to memory the pattern of my fingerprints. I acknowledged that although some people only have the privilege of knowing me for 7 months, I get to have an entire lifetime. I am lucky enough to be in the presence of my own company for every second, I am lucky enough to love myself.
“i will not have you
walk in and out of me
like an open doorway when
I have too many miracles
happening inside me to be
your convenient option”
I have too many miracles happening inside me. There are going to be so many late night giggles, hair cuts, existential musings, star-gazings and barefooted sprints through the rain that you don’t get to be privy to. There’s a million wonderful things that are going to happen to me; I am not shattered – I can not break.
I am resilient and free and wild.
I am not your miracle. I am my own.