Boomerang

I don't particularly cherish memories.
Bygones. 
I feel nauseated. 
Good memories are far too good for me 
To enjoy. 
And far too few 
To take note of. 
The more painful ones 
Offer some consolation. 
They are not many either. 

I guess I never thought 
Of registering  incidents in my brain 
As they occurred. 
I scour those leftovers 
And chew on them. 
Like a dog chews a meatless bone. 

I am mostly indifferent
Sometimes hopeless. 
I have been lucky to have people around me. 
I am nasty. 
I once used to be popular. 
I was never friendly
Not with strangers
I once used to be a rogue. 
I was a nobody. 
All my life.
I think I was mostly a conformist. 
A strictly passive romantic. 

Sometimes I feel robbed. 
Sometimes I feel incredibly light 
Without the burden of happiness
Or the weightlessness of guilt.
I feel robbed.
Mostly.

Sometimes I feel a heap
Of expectations inflicted 
By self.
Or disregard for them
I carry a weight of weightlessness
My steps have spring
Ones that I want 
Ones that would someday propel me 
Outside of this Earth
The earth is full of people

People are nauseating
People are memories
People become friends
I have lots of them
I had lots of them
I met lots of them
I created lots of them
I imagined lots of them
I can't recollect most
Perhaps any
I think I am a nobody

People fall in love
With themselves. Mostly.
Sometimes with others
And then fall out of love
They say love is curiosity
They say love is foolishness
They say love is foolhardiness
My family loves me
They are not fools

People cry (I don't). 
I don't cry because I don't want to
Over memories
I wish I had memories
I wish I felt like crying
It is difficult to know something and not experience
Love. Sex. Dhokha.
I have received lots of love
My family loves me
I reciprocate

I cried once. When I was uncertain
Uncertain of myself
But I was never more certain
Because I knew I was uncertain
I am always uncertain
But I am never aware
Maybe I am. But I never acknowledge.
That I cried. I want to. 
Cry. Acknowledge.

I am strong from the inside
Strong as an elephant
Elephants remember stuff
I feel stuffed. 
Like a toy elephant.
Is it memories?
I wish I had a closet
I could clean it regularly
And stuff it regularly
With the elephants in my brain

I am sorry
For most things I have said to people
I know people hate me
I know people love me
I know someone loved me
More than most
I reciprocated
Like to reciprocate
To my family

But there is an elephant
That needs a lot of room
I have a small brain
Small enough to hide myself
Small enough to hide that someone
Small enough to be ignored by the world
But the world never ignores
There is a God who sees everything
In addition to the world

The world does not forgive
It chooses what to forget
The world is a bad place
I was born into this world
Am I a bad place?
Am I in a bad place?
I am afraid. Am I a coward?
But there is a God
I have faith in God

I am not a God fearing man
I used to pray as a kid
Sincerely
Because I was told to
I started enjoying
I forgot suddenly why I prayed
I stopped
But I fear God. He knows I am writing this
He makes me write this

He makes me meet people
People I like. People I end up loving
People I don't enjoy
He makes me yearn for some
He makes me forget some others
I like the flux. I wish had more control
God is an autocrat
I was born in a democracy
I am confused. God makes me feel this way
God is a cheat

God created man in his own image
God is a cheat
Man is a cheat. So are women.
I am an advocate
Of gender equality. Man equals Woman. Vice versa
Woman is a cheat.
But it helps. In exams. In love. In life.
I did not cheat. Except in exams. And life.
My woman did not cheat.
Nowhere.

I am afraid I am not making sense
I will lose my reader.
The reader who has already lost me.
Lost my purpose. I don't care.
I am avant garde.
I am progressive. Just not enough
I have leapt
And come back
To the same place
Boomerang.