I am a Taboo. I have always been one. I shall always be so. I represent [nothing] but a fragment of what my kind faces. I am ephemeral. I have seen things they don’t want you to see. I have felt things they don’t want you to know. I am a taboo. I am invisible yet seen, right under their skins, as it burns through their souls.
You ask me if I ever fell in love? Why would I? I am not permitted to ! I live in a world that denies the existence of my pain, finds good culture when I’m hiding behind the walls of their deep rooted sins and poison filled souls. They want me to study but only enough so that the others can shine over my achievements. I have to be second because what will I do by being first? I have to let them stand over my hard working bones as they dance over the grave of my determination, self-esteem, and independence. I can’t really live for myself now, can I ? I can’t let my emotions show because it would reflect on my poor control over self. I can’t wear clothes I like because if I do so, it would reflect on my innate desperate need to seek negative attention from all directions and I wouldn’t want that, would I? I can’t sing loud or dance in gay because my voice would be the wail of a siren consumed in need and my moves would be an invite to an enthralling consummation. I can’t paint because I am the perfect portrait waiting for an artist to gaze and draw my lines and colours and curves and I can’t mess myself now, can I?
I am to be a dove, a damsel waiting in distress for a good Samaritan to help me back on my feet. I am to wait for my modern knight in shining armour to be swept off my feet. Oh no, do not be mistaken, it is not because I am incapable of doing things by myself, it is to prove and bow to the ever glorious sheer masculine tendencies, that shall make me feel the need to be protected and until then I shall bind myself in the un-relying corsets of expectations from a perfect damsel. I shall grow until the magnificent ages under the finest tutelage of wise mentors who teach me the skills to make scrumptious food, the wielding of knives, not for defence but on the chopping board. My mentors shall also teach me the age old talents of adjustments and compromise because I need to have hearts big enough to hold huge egos and inbuilt issues that they shall wear as badges of honour. I shall also learn the fine art of talking sweetly but not enough. I also have the privilege to choose to work and earn but not more than them, but that should not be a problem because I am learning to compromise, I promise I am. I would be a castaway if I wouldn’t follow the rules I need to exist, the long lost ill intended albeit necessary laws. I would be a taboo.
I guess it is a little too late. The train has left. I have broken through the pinions of unending niceties, and I have too many curves to fit in the mould. I am too thin; I am too fat. I am too tall; I am too short. I am too talkative; I am too silent. I am too educated; I am too illiterate. I earn too much; I earn too less. I eat too much; I eat too less. I am too kind; I am too selfish. I am too busy; I am too lazy.
I am everything; I am nothing.