A cocoon of misery,

Entangled in the shackles of hate,

Of loneliness,

Of jealousy.

There goes the hunk of the class.

The stuff of 'girl talk',

The epitome of style,

The symbol of glamour,

Of good looks

And panache.

Wherever he goes,

Whatever he does,

Or doesn't do,

Whoever he talks to,

However pathetic his jokes be,

Those girls just can't stop giggling

At his jokes...

...or at me?

I turn my head away-

Can't stand his stupid antics.

But his goggles and her giggles

Don't go out of my mind.

No, they stay right there,

And torment me,

As the 'stached ringmaster torments the bull,

With a red piece of silken cloth.

I turn my head away-

And whom should my lonely, desperate gaze rest upon-

But the specky, witty smart guy,

Clad in striped t-shirt and cap

Covering his curly hair,

Talking to the girl I crush on!

I stare at the perfect pair

One has the perfect body, the other, the perfect brain

As I hang my head in shame,

And walk out of the class

The college- the country- the world...

Making a solemn vow

Never to be seen again.

I remember ever so vividly,

The glorious days of my school,

Then all we dreamt was coming to college-

Now all I dream is going back there,

Returning to my safe haven,

Where the only identity I had to worry about,

Was the one printed on my handbook,
Ugly photo beside.

Back in the school days I was smart,

I was happy- and best of all,

I had friends.

Real friends.

Friends I could count on.

Friends that didn't look at me

Through the rims of judging glasses.

Friends that didn't care how I looked today,

Didn't care what songs I listened to,

My fashion was not always the "in-thing",

My words were not the wittiest.

They didn't mind.

They didn't care.

Real friends.

I wrenched my hand away

From the handle of the bus,

Walked up the aisle

With a needle's space to move,

And with the air of a victorious warrior,

--a victorious crippled warrior--

Sat down,

The conductor clicking his thing in my ears,

Yelled my destination in his ears,

And put on my earphones,

Savouring the momentary silence.

I'd always thought life would go one step forward

When I left school and came to college,

Now it seems to be going two steps back,

One step of shame,

One of self-pity,

One of ignorance.

I'm terrible at math.

The people I am with

My so-called "friends",

Do nothing to make me feel better.

Every conversation

Every exchange

Feels like a barbaric verbal brawl,

Each of us trying to surpass the other,

With witty remarks and sneering
spit-backs.

Being myself has become a dream,

As I desperately try to be trendy,

And to make my image in front of others.

To fit in,

To stand out.

I laugh at whatever they say,

Agree to most of their opinions,

Even mold my own opinions

To fit the frames they have crafted.

And they've already carved out a niche for themselves-

In this vast spectrum of college life-

I still have to pick up the chisel.

And I don't think I

Will ever find,

Someone who'll understand me,

Let me be my crazy, weird self

Without telling me to be someone else-

A certain Mr. X who

Wears my clothes

Owns my voice

Pulls my hair,

But never was and will never be

Anything more than a dead soul inside a living body.

It walks,

It talks,

It exists.

As does this little cocoon I've built for myself,

Quite the only thing that's been truly mine-

A cocoon of misery, of shallowness, of depression,

Where each eve,

Blinded with desperation, I

Curl up in,

Put my head in my arms,

And cry.