We are damaged goods.

 We are one broken generation.

We are Icarus' offsprings,

Flying too high;

Too near the sun.

Hence we drop down on the ground;

We fall,

Without a dull thud,

Without blood.

We fall,

With a million meteors

Accompanying us on our doomed journey,

Making it appear beautiful

To the people looking up at the sky;

Ignorant of the number of deaths

It requires

To create something so beautiful.

We are a generation of dreamers.

We never break from our slumber

Even though the world is screaming

At our ears,

"Too sensitive!"

"Too honest!"

"Too brave!"

Yes, we are a bit too much

Of everything

Normal people can't take in

And will never understand.

We are too real.

We are a generation of artists.

Each one of us

Is art itself;

And the artist too.

We have never believed 

We couldn't be both.

We are mad;

We are wild;

We are living,

Making this wretched life count;

One breath at a time.

We owe it

To the million chances

We have given ourselves

After gulping down pills;

And slashing wrists.

We deserve every bit 

Of this life;

However sad it is.

We are a generation

That has more to give

Than grainy monochrome photos,

That people mindlessly scroll through.

We give pictures to captions;

And not otherwise.

We shout;

We spill;

We rant.

We cannot compromise,

Because our conservative households

Want us to.

We are voices

That will scream

Until we are heard.

We are a generation of the dark.

Dark thoughts;

Darker souls.

We spill ink

In place of blood,

On blank pages.

We are made of busy days;

And suffocating nights.

We struggle with every bit

Of waking up in the morning,

But don't let the world know

That we'd hoped of not making it

through the night.

We hide;

But with SOS signs;

If anyone would just care

To look for them

In the depths of our eyes.

They scream;

"HELP!"

We are a generation of lovers,

Waiting to be serenaded;

To be cared for;

when we can't do that

For ourselves.

We hope a lot

And that's one of the reasons

For our misery.

We keep our eyes open,

But we do trust a lot.

And when hopelessness visits us,

In the form of heartbreaks

Or betrayal,

That is not quite a pretty sight.

But we are a generation of believers.

We think we can move mountains

And change the course of rivers.

We think the world will change;

For the better.

So we sit,

And wait

For the day

When we'd start feeling alright.

Till then,

We appear as a generation

Of Admirers.

We look at pretty skies

And compose imaginary verses.

We try to shape our mess

And pose for group pictures

We are anxious people

We are too good

For this bad world.

But that's the catch;

We know there are others;

Just like us,

Waiting to be recognized

From a distance.

We live on;

In hope of meeting the one

Who would see us for us

And pass a knowing smile

"You too?"

"Yeah, me too."

Image: Pinterest

Where should I begin?

Umm, let's see.

I should start by explaining my existence in this world. Where I was born and raised, the places I've been to, my childhood, the slow slipping in of adulthood, and all that. You get the drill.

I was born in the year 1998 in a small town called Durgapur in West Bengal. To say that I was brought up in a totally liberal environment would be a lie. But yes, my parents always gave first priority to our education. By our, I mean my elder sister and I.

We're a small family of four but our relatives lived very near. My grandmother, whom we used to address as 'Thamma' was really fond of us but she lived with her daughter, right across the street from our house. Hence my earliest fond memories of my childhood are in my 'Pishir Bari' (Paternal Aunt's house). I was the youngest member of the family and hence all my cousins loved me very much.

I was a happy kid but I've been told that I slept a lot. Hence I don't have many pictures in which I'm awake and up to some business. I started school when I was four; in the same missionary school that my sister was going to. My sister was my sole protector in school. She'd take care of all the people who bullied me and took my tiffin. Kids my age were mean but I had my sister.

My sister and I are 6 years apart and hence she could never relate to any of my thoughts but I always looked up to her because her life looked so enticing. She wore short skirts while I had to wear tunics as the uniform. For me, adulthood was that; wearing short skirts and playing 'Throwball' (An exclusive sport invented by our school) with friends.

But then I grew up and realized that life was not as easy as it looked. I struggled with friendships. Everyone I thought to be my best friend either betrayed me or left. And saying anything to my sister and my parents felt impossible because somewhere deep down, I knew they would never understand me. Some things are better shared with people of our age, isn't it?

It was in the year 2012 that I discovered Anne Frank and the joys of diary writing. Finally I felt that I could tell everything to someone who'd not pass any judgement. Anne Frank had pointed it out to me; Paper had more patience than man.

And so it began; the beginning of something good even though it was difficult to maintain secrecy. It is at this point that I should let you know that my school was an asshole with teachers who were much bigger assholes.

I was in my pre-teens and hence a certain attraction towards the opposite sex is natural. And so, here I was, looking at boys and thinking that they were the love of my life. And all of this went into my diary. That topper who'd never notice me, that tall and fair senior who didn't even know I existed and all other crushes; I told them about my feelings in my diary, hoping that no one would ever find out.

I never realized when I started composing poems. Childish, of course, but I liked writing them. I felt it made me say about my feelings in a better way. I hadn't realized when I actually fell in love with writing.

School wasn't great. As I mentioned already, it was a place where teachers bullied the students. I would not say that I was totally innocent but the fact that they'd take such measures to get back at me was not expected. There was no one who could actually tell me right from wrong. Instead, they pushed me to the edge.

I was scared because I had started to realize that I was a disappointment to my parents. There was a sad look that I saw in my father's eyes when he looked at me. I wasn't like my sister, they said. She never faced any problems in school. I was supposed to do the same; pass out with a good percentage.

But it felt like my school didn't want me to perform good. The teachers discouraged me at every step and scared the shit out of me. They had discovered my weakest point; I was scared of disappointing my parents. They attacked me in the same spot over and again by calling my parents to school for humiliation every chance they got.

The complaints were about a boy. As I said, I wasn't completely innocent. I thought I had fallen in love with a boy in my class, who claimed to understand me. I had started to confide in him. He was my human diary and I dreamt of having a future with him. Childish? I know. But it was easy to believe in forevers and happily ever afters then. We were 16 and life hadn't even started. It didn't cost us anything to dream. And, I've always been a dreamer.

I was suicidal. I made childish attempts to end my life. I wasn't aware what really worked in inducing a painless death upon oneself. I tried slashing my wrists in the wrong places, tried swallowing disinfectants and bathroom cleaners and even glue. I wanted to escape the cruelty of the world because for me, that school was the miniature version of the world that was outside. I wasn't brave enough for it; or that is what I thought then.

I'm glad that none of my attempts were effective otherwise I wouldn't have lived to tell my tale. I emerged victorious in the end. With the help of my family, I managed to pass out of that hell hole of a school with flying colors.

But I hadn't given up on my 'love'. I was still determined to work my 'relationship' out. I inwardly felt that I would end up marrying that person. But this is where I started to see my parents as an obstacle towards my goal. They didn't like the boy because of their prejudices. They didn't say anything to me but I could see and feel that they wished for things to end between us. But i

I was the stubborn daughter of my stubborn parents. I didn't budge. At least, I didn't plan to.

Note to readers: So, here's the account of my childhood and teenage; the 17 years of my life that I spent in Durgapur. I didn't know what life had in store for me. But I was determined to find out. My college life deserves more than 2 or 3 paragraphs. Hence I'm breaking up this origin story into two parts. Read the next post to know how college life, hostel life and adulthood treated me.

Thanks for reading :)