So this week's been sorta 'enlightening'; in the sense of self-discovery. I learnt that my friends think that confiding is not a natural thing for me to do even with those I hang out a lot with. And that I have a perverted paranoia of looking vulnerable, and so I don't (among other things) talk about my insecurities. Needless to say, this is all very puzzling to me, as I'd thought I 'shared' nearly just as much as others. Iss khushi (yaa dukh, as may fit better) mein:
I sit at this writing table
Writing about the wonder in my mind
Wonder at the workings of the people around me
Astonishment at what makes me odd.
What was thought natural, is now
Against how it ought to be
What was believed to be sensitivity
Is now a sense of manipulation.
The fountain spews out water
As far as it can;
It thinks that's what it should.
It doesn't see the grimaces on the faces getting wet.
It seems like a flaw,
But no one's correcting it
Is it even wrong?
- But no one's judging.
Like a pentagon-sided ball
I roll around awkwardly
Another side will make me even
But no one's distributing.
I sit at this writing table
Writing about the wonder in my mind
Wonder at the workings of the people around me
Astonishment at what makes me odd.
What was thought natural, is now
Against how it ought to be
What was believed to be sensitivity
Is now a sense of manipulation.
The fountain spews out water
As far as it can;
It thinks that's what it should.
It doesn't see the grimaces on the faces getting wet.
It seems like a flaw,
But no one's correcting it
Is it even wrong?
- But no one's judging.
Like a pentagon-sided ball
I roll around awkwardly
Another side will make me even
But no one's distributing.
