But Aren’t We All Gorgeous?

I think this is the longest I have gone without being loved or thinking that I am loved romantically, that is. But sometimes, I like to believe that I am not the only person in the world who is pining for love. I think of this as one hardship that we all seem to have acquired that we have been trying hard to accept, but we can’t because we don’t want to. It’s like a party where everyone is forcing you to drink, but you don’t want to since you don’t like the taste of alcohol, and you know that your body will reject it. Except the party is most of your friends who are allegedly happy being all by themselves and alcohol is the fact that you don’t have romantic love in your life. 

We all know of melancholy, after all, we have felt it at some point in life, but we find ourselves in situations where explaining how we feel is an arduous task. None of us can understand the depth of the pain that the other person might be going through. No matter how empathetic we may be, we are still not that person. 

We tend to resort to music, books, movies, poetry etc that transforms us into beings who know how to endure that trauma that has been bestowed upon us by the ones who surround us and we simply oblige while making it our own; “Yes, please share with me your sorrow since your blood runs inside my vein, your pain is mine. If we are not related, even so, I would rather be subjected to your rage, however painful it may be, than not have you in my life at all. I want you, no matter what.”

We want a part of ourselves to live inside the other person and theirs to live inside ours, sometimes for eternity, sometimes only for a short period and sometimes not at all. The duration of that short period is subjective. I wish it were objective, life would have been different, and I would like to experience that for a change. 

Grief is enervating, even just the thought of it. A tear down your cheek is like a warning that soon you are going to be rendered exhausted and getting yourself to do anything after this one episode is unpredictable. I often find myself in a state of oblivion while grieving, confused about my identity, clueless about what will become of me and how things would have been different if ‘it’ wouldn’t have happened. ‘It’ being the reason I might be grieving. At least the pain reminds me that my feelings and emotions were real and true.

The obscurity of it all drives me insane. I believe that these redundant thoughts, these insecurities that we build in our minds make us beautiful, and that is why I like to believe that all of us are gorgeous. The funny thing is, no matter how content we are in life, we will yearn for problems. We will search for the tiniest of mishappenings and setbacks in order to move forward and become happy, again. I wonder whether I want to be in pain in order to feel things, or would I rather be stoic and insouciant to everything? Can I even stay stoic?

Hello, everyone! If you liked this Poem, do check out the related posts. Comment and like if you would like to read more similar works from the author. And don’t forget to share this on your social media channels.

Hi! I am Simran Tuteja. I am a twenty-year-old undergraduate student majoring in Mathematics from the University of Delhi. In 2019, I was diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety disorder and that is when I started writing. I am a writer for The Teen Magazine and DamnFitt magazine. I also have a WordPress blog.

Instagram- https://www.instagram.com/simrantutejaa/


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