I’m Breaking Up with Myself
Image courtesy of Anna Poloneeva via Scopio
Enough. I’ve had enough.
All the thinking—
the looping, the rehearsing conversations that never happen,
like pacing an empty stage after the audience has gone home.
I’m tired of being afraid of everything—
of people, of silence,
of the wrong version of myself
showing up at the wrong time like a bad understudy.
Waking up, looking in the mirror,
and feeling like my face is something I’ve been assigned.
Standing in line at the grocery store,
staring at ripe tomatoes split at the skin,
wondering if I’m the only one
waiting for my life to start
like it’s been delayed somewhere else.
Stopping mid-sentence—
words drying up in my mouth
like I’ve been caught lying about who I am.
Rewriting texts so I don’t offend.
Offending anyway.
Little digital apologies
stacking up like unopened mail.
Talking to myself—
not the way I’d talk to a friend,
but like someone I don’t know
well enough to trust.
In many ways, I’m a sheep.
I follow my worst instincts
like they’re holding a map I can’t read.
I’m sick of being unsatisfied.
I get what I want
and it dissolves in my hands,
like it was never meant to hold.
What will it take?
Is it even possible to satisfy me,
or am I built like this—
a horizon that moves every time I get close?
I’m tired of being tired—
not sleeping,
just slipping into dreams
that keep pointing at something I won’t name.
I’m sick of watching time move in one direction
while I stand still,
surrounded by the ghosts
of all the versions of me I was supposed to become.
I don’t think I’m going to live up to my potential.
I hate even writing that—
like saying it out loud
makes it more true.
We don’t just need a break.
It’s over.
I can’t keep waking up as you
and pretending this is working,
like the audience hasn’t already left.
I’ve tried to fix you.
You’ve tried to disappear.
I’ll miss you, though.
The way you think too much—
like every thought is something
you don’t know how to leave alone.
The way you care about things that don’t matter,
as if meaning might suddenly appear
if you stare long enough.
The way you almost become someone better—
hovering right at the edge of it—
and then step back.
I’ll still love you.
I just don’t want to be you anymore.
Or maybe I do.
That’s the problem.
nina
A couple of friends and I started a podcast called 2 Curries and a Ranch. Listen here: https://2curriesandaranch.riverside.com/ or wherever you get your podcasts.
Imagine two loud, dramatic, hilarious Indian women explaining to a white man what it's like to grow up and live in America. Join us for laughter, deep thoughts, and witty banter about life, love and culture. We tell it like it is, with honest, bold and funny stories, discussions and arguments. We explore boundaries and challenge norms. Join us for a good talk.
We have a new episode out! Shit, Shower, Shave, In That Order: Listen to us unscripted, shooting the shit about culture, life, and Harry Potter. The topic is us, telling it like it is.