A Kaleidoscope of Me by Srishti Uppal

I grew up watching Final Destination,
with my sister yelling at the gory parts
I grew up writing poems,
and I still can’t stand when they don’t rhyme
Rhyming schemes, alliterations
and the act of stripping myself of pride on paper imbued me
I grew up naked- in soul and in paper.
When I was five, I broke my right leg
A motorcyclist rode over it
The sound of my own tongue telling me I’m worthless
is louder than that of bones cracking underneath me
A friend once asked me
roughly how many people I hated
I said
“all of them”
People scare me.
They’ll put your hope health happiness in a straitjacket
and when all that’s left in your skin is pain
they’ll creep up to your ears and ask “why so serious?”
I think thinking about the purpose of life is philosophical suicide
We live in a faithless world
and anyone’s who’s the least bit different
is fed to the wolves to be ravaged
I was, too.
My sister and I once shared the same favourite show
all we share now is mutual ignorance of each other
My only friend was my aunt
everyone else who ever met me thought I was a bloody lunatic
(I am)
My self-esteem fluctuates faster than the weather
the extremes range from judgmental to suicidal
I believe the greatest way I can punish those who hurt me
is by making myself inaccessible to them
When I was five, I broke my leg
I didn’t cry, not even a little
When I was fifteen, I broke my heart/
I’ve been heartless ever since.

Srishti Uppal is an eighteen-year old poet, essayist, and blogger from New Delhi. Her works have been published by The Paper Trains Literary Journal and The Mystic Blue Review. Her most treasured talents include her madly detailed knowledge of Ariana Grande lyrics and outdated vines. You can read her work here.  She is the Founder, Creative Manager, and Editor-in-Chief of Teen Belle Magazine.

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