Nights.

Nights are calm and serene. It’s peaceful to think of it as a clock ticking to the sounds of rain splatters on a wooden window sill. Closing my eyes shut to sleep and mind staying wide awake feeding insomnia to the mind like drugs and pills. Nights are calm to a calamity occurring in our heads. Insecure outboxed in gifts to our 3 A.M. thoughts. Insecurities pilling up and growing just like a desert, strong winds swallowing confidence up. Mind cleansing clogged to a deathbed. What are we all so insecure about? Because colour of the skin is an age old discrimination process but our minds makes it alive like today I wanna be fairer than the rest. Or is it about a subjective talk of being beautiful, it’s always that we wanted to be good enough to even look at our own reflection and bring out a genuine smile. Insecurities are being fed by our thoughts which counter attack one another to make it an anxiety. “I put a finger down my throat” to be slim as anybody else. Stomach growling, “not hungry today mom”; is all I said. Do you think I should wing my eyeliner more to be better. “Everyone is going there, I should too right?” said my mind; but all I wanted to do was read a book and still be chill ass person.

Three in the mornings, or 4 a.m.; phone in hand, shaking my head to a catchy song. Three in the mornings, or 4 a.m.; tears streak down my cheeks of being the joke of the talk. Three in the mornings, or 4 a.m. cooking my favourite recipe to go with the movie. Three in the mornings, or 4 a.m.; opening the blade of the sharpener to give my wrist the 24th try, hoping to not fail at this too again. Three in the morning, or 4 a.m.; too much workload to finish in an hour. Three in the morning, or 6 a.m.; snorting drugs to let my mind not think of doing the subject my parents like. Three in the mornings, or 4 a.m.; rushing to the hospital to save a friend. Three in the morning, or 4 a.m.; let’s just kick the stool from beneath my feet and hang.

“I painted today and didn’t think of anyone doing it better or worst than me. I just painted to relax myself. It’s not the best painting but I love it, maybe I can sleep tonight. It’s going to be happy dreams. I am gonna paint in my dreams; paint skies, water, a girl sitting, happy faces. paint a lot”. I sleep with a smile. I draw everyday. I don’t want to be an architect like my dad; but who will handle his business? They say I am gifted to paint. And they say family is everything. I want to be a painter, make paintings which probably no one will understand. But with architecture even if I fail in math, my dad will pay my way out. And it’s not that dissimilar.

I was 5 and a little on the healthy side. I loved all things oily and tasty to eat it right. They called me fatty ass till grade 10th till I grew thin. Now all they ask is ‘if I ever eat?’. How do I say no to their faces without the guilt. I eat a granola in the morning and some veggies and milk at night before sleep. I see my ribs poking and smile. No one will call me fat ass again.

Nights are calm and serene. Nights are quieter and dark. Nights make your tears hide and never seek. Nights are the horizon to peace. Peace out of insecure thoughts, so many cut marks on skin, ribs poke out in lapse, eyes shut but voices ringing in head, stool thrown and hanging to stop breathing. Just a moment it takes for it to all start ending. Nights are too calm and too serene.

I am 26 now, yes the voices ring. the voices do sing too. Sometimes happy as it wants to be. Sometimes melancholy like a rain havoc. Sometimes it dances sometimes it flies. When I was 7, I knew that these voices would ring. When I was 6 I was beaten by 4 boys to show I was skinny. When I was 9 I saw this girl sit and cry to her lunch by promising to not eat it as she will gain weight. When I was 8, I knew that this world was a bitter place. When I was 7 I cared to be a little more better, I promised I will be better. When I was 15 I had my share of insecure thoughts. When I was 9 I helped the little in me to eat lunch with her and make her laugh. When I was 23 I knew these insecurities knew no bounds, but I had my own battle, I wasn’t going to frown. When I was 24 I buried my mother and cried, I knew then; she didn’t birth me to be like anyone else but myself. So when I was 25 I was better at all because I gave my best; be it my wife or work or just changing diapers. Now I am 26, and these voices go nowhere; but I don’t believe in them, I know I am better than I was yesterday and tomorrow I will be more. Yes, the nights are calm, too calm to sleep; but I have this serene feeling of giving it time; and it’ll all be just happy.

Genuine smile at the mirror glows. Brushing my teeth to take my morning caffeine shot. Last night sleep was good. Taking my life won’t sort out the worst. Genuine smile at night to match the calm and serene feel.

~D.M.K.