*Trigger Warning: Mentions of rape
An essay about me written by me sounds like the perfect opportunity to turn myself into a God. But, I’m told that the world isn’t ready for that yet. So, I’ll be taking the high road here, and will be telling the story of a mortal. Ah, the potential……
Now, deconstructing myself sounded like an easy job in my head when I pitched the idea. I should’ve known better than to trust my inner voice.
I was supposed to go all Philosophical here, explaining how the identities we create intertwine to create our real personality. But, I’ll be taking a different angle here. Namely, how the battles we fight on a daily basis forms the basis for our identities.
I am a writer. A good one, I’m told. Here’s the thing- my personality changes according to the type of topic I’m working on. So, I can be anything from arrogant to carefree to professional. That’s what makes me good at writing. Because I can slip into personalities like changing clothes. One could argue that it makes me untrustworthy. I won’t disagree, but you only know this about me because I told you. What you think about that, is your business, not mine.
I’m openly Bisexual, and I hate that label. All labels, for that matter. Gender, as I’ve come to know, is abstract. I understand that I might be going against numerous people who’ve fought their entire lives to be identified as queer, but I’d rather be identified as human, not queer, not straight, not as a man- as human. I think that’s the more important struggle- to be seen without the goggles of gender, or sexuality, but as humans.
I’m a rape survivor. It happened when I was 12. I was petrified by the events, so naturally I kept it a secret. That meant I had to fight through a serious case of PTSD on my own. But, I was a stubborn, hard-headed child who just wouldn’t back down. That attitude got me through a lot of struggles in my life, and I’m not about to back down now, but that struggle took a toll on me unlike any other. If it wasn’t for the company I keep, I would have been in shackles a long time ago.
As much as I want to say that I’m an open book, I’m not. I am a lot of things. The struggles I faced the rape, the bullying, the humiliations, the broken hearts, the time of poverty- everything showed me something unique. I’m impulsive, because I know how life can turn upside down in an instant. I constantly analyse every moment of my life so that I don’t make the same mistakes over and over. I write to vent myself, to let out the pressure and tension. I’m stubborn, because I know no one will fight for me, and I know second chances are rare. I don’t hesitate to try new things, because that’s how you live. I’m not afraid of failures because they have taught me more lessons than school and college combined.
There was a time when a smile was the best mask I wore. Now that I’m through with that time, I make sure I enjoy myself whenever I can. This may come across as a childish and carefree behaviour. Irresponsible, even. But I always keep my promises, and make my presence known where it counts.
The faces I wear, are not something I hide behind. They’re souvenirs of the wars I fought. Or maybe I just need a good therapist. But hey, I came a long way, with just a few scars and hell of an experience, and without any lasting damage. I think I’m okay, right?
