I Want To Be Authentic. A Complete Stranger To The World But Authentic. Sticking Out Like A Sore Thumb,

I want to be authentic. A complete stranger to the world but authentic. Sticking out like a sore thumb, but authentic.

-Vanshika

I do not know if it counts -outside of tumblr- the mental struggle that I face everyday. The constant fight between the force to race and the force to live. I am not able to do these two simultaneously- race and live. Does this make me weaker than the rest? Or everyone has their own personal battlefields where they put up a strong face while crumpling within.

I feel liberated at the thought of not looking back. As if looking back was holding me hard, to what I did not want to hold. It was scary for me to walk ahead, but scarier to stay back and be held.

-VS

It's been raining all day. I'm not old yet but I'm not young either- stranded in a limbo of young adult. All my friends are cities away, and I'm wondering who I am. My friends are photos and texts. My friends are video calls on Friday nights, most anyways. My friends are one call away but my bones remember the miles between us, hundreds- even thousands. I'm not old yet, but my shoulders bear the weight of countless goodbyes. I'm not young either. I can place a call but I stare at the rain. I can send a text but I write a stupid poem.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned