The Game

*Something i wrote when I was seventeen.

 

I am a vegan

Who feels sorry

For the suffering animals’ souls

 

I am a virgin

And yes I’m seventeen years old

But I feel

Like I’m one of those

Suffering animals’ souls

 

So I put up the walls firm and tall

This way, I can heal

From the wounds which cut me deeply

That I bleed

Every single night in my dreams

Where I see myself left

With only bones

Buried in the bottom of the dungeon

To which

I am confined

 

Yes, I’m seventeen years old

A vegan and a virgin

I can easily

Spit out these identities

But still feel baffled

Still, feel frazzled

 

why?

My parents asked me

They never fathom

 

Every day, I try

I think

It’s because every day I try

To be “something”

Be polite, be positive

Be generous, be happy, be a lady

Talk louder, be a boss, but not too bossy

Be indispensable, be in control

Make us proud

But remember

Be yourself

 

I am tired

Of this game that we call life

Playing by the rules

Written for someone else

With a knife on my throat

I toss the dice

And try to survive

 

But this game is not fair

Not from the very beginning

 

They say even though

Life itself is an empty existence

Aspire to fill it

With a sense of belonging

 

But hey

I did not consent

To playing this game

Yet here I am

Trying to makes sense

Of all that I have not signed up for

 

I am tired of this game

And if the game writers

Have mercy at all

They

Would just leave me alone

 

I can’t recognize myself anymore

Like the suffering

animals’ souls

 

I remember

When I was twelve

Standing next to a bookshelf in my room

With Anna Karenina in my hands

Telling dad that I hope to study literature

and philosophy in the future

 

He told me blatantly

That I couldn’t possibly

make a career out of it

 

he wanted me

to be more like him

a lawyer

or perhaps

a law professor

 

I remember in middle school

I wished I could be

More like my brother

Because apparently

He was a born winner

And was adored by every creature

 

I was not made for this game

And that wasn’t acceptable

For a kid in middle school

She just wanted to be normal

No one liked that girl

Who sat in her seat

Reading all day long

Lacked of human interaction

 

You see

I think the rules of this game

Is written for and written by

People like my brother

 

Over the years

I slaughtered myself

Changing the soul

Bit by bit

Compromising

To society norms

 

I don’t recognize myself anymore

Like the suffering

animals’ souls

 

and if the people in this game

have mercy at all

they

would spare me a round

and leave me alone

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