"No one can hate me, Yaveeda Singh, more than I hate myself." I said it three times. Like a mantra, every morning as I rose out of my cradle of rest. As I looked at my worn down mirror, I said it directly to the reflection staring back at me. The poor thing's taken a toll having to bare the sight of my fucked up self all these years. God bless my mirror. He shows no lies. He sees through me. Maybe that's why my reflection always seems disfigured, as if there's something within fighting to escape. It's who I am in this world. I wanted to be treated normally, as if I weren't invisible but at the same time, I don't want to be seen. It's irony that even I can't seem to comprehend because, my mind is my worst enemy and trying to understand what goes on up there has left me with me self regret and a whole load of mental disorders. Five to be exact. I have anxiety, clinical depression, ADHD, OCD and well of course, I'm bipolar. In a nutshell, I'm fucked. Literally, the definition of mind fucked.
Being 20 years old, with all these issues, is hard.
I often wonder where I went wrong but a big header, shining brightly and bold, appears in my mind shouting "BIRTH!" Seems pretty legit actually, considering the miserable life I've lead since then. I was just two years old when my dad passed. We lived in Florida. It was great, well so says my mom and the photographs, from which I still looked a bit distorted. But happy, there were smiles, the genuine ones that you can see are extremely real. Unfortunately, that's when it began. My parents were never married, apparently my grandmother hated my mother and didn't want her as a daughter in law so when poor ole' daddy died, nothing was ours. There were no records of him ever having a daughter, somehow they just disappeared. Seems as if my father did a good job hiding the fact that he had a common law wife and a child from his parents. At that time, mom was too distraught. She didn't want any more of the confusion so she did what she thought was best. Packed her shit up, took her child and left the country that they'll make her leave eventually. My mother was born in Trinidad and well yeah, dad was a US citizen. Mom was poor, dad had riches. Which is why my piece of shit "grandma" never trusted my mom. She thought she was only going to marry my father for the money. Well plot twist grandma, your grandchild is now bat shit poor and living in a fucking shack in Lopinot, only one of the most haunted places in Trinidad..
Haunted, yes. That's where my interest lies. See a gal like me "nevah had no friends," so I basically provoked the undead for fun. It really was actually. All the times I gained their trust and lost it and woke up with marks on my legs, it was a hell of a ride. Please note the sarcasm because it's hell. I once thought it was fun but now it's not. I thought jumbie (ghosts) would be just like every other thing there was but I was wrong. Maybe I entered a world I created for myself and got lost. Growing up, I was never normal. Far from actually. I saw things that couldn't be explained to just anyone. Little boys, with feet turned backwards to balls of fire entering through the peepholes of doors, I've seen it all. I had no one else to explain  these things to but that was kind of the beauty of it, no one to judge. I don't need another random person calling me crazy. I know I am crazy but that has nothing to do with the things I've seen. My undying love for traditional West Indian folklore was more than visible if you ever stepped foot into my room. There were pictures and books everywhere, relating to every mythological creature and paragraphs summarizing my research and encounters with each. I've seen a lot of weird, inexplicable shit. For example, the one time I was walking through my village, it was a very  foggy night. The winds howled and tossed branches to and fro, sending leaves floating through mid air and I noticed amidst the leaves, there was a speck of red light being carried off with the wind. Now to any normal person, if you see this please run. Run! Run in the other direction! ASAP! But, silly little me, decided to follow this red hued dot until I came across a cottage where I knew a very poor family lived. It was run down to the point where there were gaps through the roof under the sheets of galvanize, allowing the speck to enter. Peeping through half of a window, looking past the cardboard that blocked the other half, I noticed the dot disappeared. Instead there was a woman, very old. Immediately, I recognized her. It was old Mrs.Kerry who ran the parlour in our village. Surprised to see her, I kept looking only to see her flesh. It was as if she peeled her skin off her body like a bodysuit or that she's been severely burnt. Then it hit me, the speck was a tiny ball of fire and right away I knew what that meant.. Soucounyant! Peering carefully, I noticed she went into the bedrooms and came out looking a lot healthier than she did before. Her skin look replenished and years younger, as if she found the fountain of youth. A bit disappointed that I didn't get the complete view of what went down in the rooms but, from my knowledge, she went in there, sucked some poor soul's blood and came out looking fresh. Digging into my pocket, I reached for my phone that unfortunately let out a huge rang in the tune of Slipknot's Psychosocial. ”Where yuh dey?" questioned a very worried mother. Seems like mom was calling because I went too far to get some air. I hanged up the call ensuring her I'd be back shortly and when i peeked straight ahead...Damn it! I was fucked. The ole blood thirsty bitch looked up and was staring directly at me. If I ever wanted to intentionally shit my pants, it would have been then. Might have even pissed in them too. The fierce stare she gave me had me taking a few steps back from up against the window, to well.. Yeah falling the fuck down. Did I mention I'm clumsy as hell? No? Well I am. "Bloops!" goes me onto the ground and out came the wicked witch, pacing through the door. I was beyond scared. Did piss my pants a bit but kept a straight face, she looked at me with such vengeance and said slowly while wrapping her hands around my neck "Tell ...Anyone...And..You're... Dead."  With that being said, she disappeared. ”Yeah bitch, keep running!" I yelled when she left, just to maintain my dominance.. Okay. Yeah I did just got some of my life squeezed out of me by an old lady but everyone knows, the one with the last word wins. If you didn't know, then now you know. Oh well. I ran back home that day, panting heavily and was out of breath Didn't even let mom know I was home, just went straight to my room to start writing about what I had just witnessed. For someone like me, an opportunity like that was extremely worthwhile. Well worth the risk and pissing myself of course. Nonetheless, it was a great experience for me to document. Just something to tell the kids ..If I ever do find a mate who is equally as messed up and wants to make children who are twice as messed up. Well, back to my interests. Right now men aren't one of them. Speaking of interests, there was this one time, my momma set up a date for me. She had been speaking about how lonely I am and that it was about time that I seek a partner. So, just to get her to shut up, I agreed. On that day, I was shocked, more than I was furious. Ever been so angrily surprised where you just laugh? Because that was my exact reaction. Looking towards the direction of a female, Alia, in her early twenties. She wasn't really nice and dressed like a complete guy. Snapback, tattoos, felt like I was singing a song. It was horrible. I stormed out of there right after I had my date. She wasn't appealing because I am straight but doesn't mean I have to pass up the great food. During the course of the date, we barely spoke. I am awkward in any conversation with strangers, basically anyone who's not family or who's not myself or my mom. After the meal, I let her know the situation but here's why I stormed out.. "Thanks for the meal, Alia.".. ”I had a great time but  umm there's something I have tuh say." And this was her response "No need to explain. yuh mom told meh to just make yuh feel good and ensure you was comfortable, she thought you like girls which is why I'm here.." She continued. ”But I'm not and she just beg meh tuh come down here and be nice to yuh so you'd get out the house a lil bit also you're not really muh type either."
Well that sent my blood pressure skyrocketing. The audacity of this little cunt. I STORMED OUT! Tears running down my cheeks as I ran past the maxi stand. I needed to run far away. To get away from here. From an earth where my own mother has to hire people to pretend they're interested in me. Where the thought crosses my mind that she knows I'm not a lesbian but still hired a female because she couldn't get a guy to even sit down with me. This is what was playing over and over in my mind. Wiping away the tears, I pulled myself together. I had classes today and I needed to be on my best behavior. I got to maintain that GPA. I was pursuing my bachelor's in Visual arts. Yes I love folklore but my deepest passion, art. It's how I express myself. Expressionism and surrealism are my keys to survival. I need that way of venting. My story through brush strokes. Every blank canvas represented a new chapter in life or even a new day. Because that day was full of events, I was told to describe my day using two colors. I grabbed the red and blue. Trying to compose the simplest yet most complex piece to cover every event of this day. Successfully, my pain and sorrows brought me the professor's attention and I was quickly at the top of the class. Artists are suckers for any form of expression.  Be it a poem, a song or a good portrait. And I, I had the kind of unsettled soul that awakened senses when placed upon paper. I bled my heart out on a white page almost everyday for closure. It soothed me. As if paper had ears, they listened to me. They showed me that beauty can be seen from the hell that holds me. There's greatness in even the weakest part of me. And just like that, I slowly started to appreciate my mind. See, I'm not that damaged in darkness. Being a light soul in a heavy world is diminishing my ability to  shine. I'm  turquoise and this world is grey. The irony, I hate bright colours but I want to be the person that a dog will never bark at, the kind of person to stop a baby from crying.
The one who just heals everything with a simple touch or fix every situation with just a few words.
But, I also want to be the person that lightning strikes and when it does, just let it strike me twice
And if not, I just hope I receive love from the one person I was actually interested in.. Because, I'm way too colourful for this black and white life.
Sitting across from me was the most charming  young man I'd ever met. Not that I have met many but damn, he was seriously a contender. Not really in ways because I spoke to him but his eyes, they were promising. They told me how much I needed them in my life by just looking up at me. If eyes told stories then give this man a medal because I was definitely reading that shit.
”Cannabis Eyes" is what I called him and on my first week of seeing him, this is the nickname I gave to Yuvan, my first love. Tbh, I have had a crush before but nothing quite like this. We were four years old and in preschool. Adrian had the coolest backpack in the class and everyone wanted to sit next to him. Some day I had a pack of Oreos and he told me that if I gave him one, I'd be his friend so I did. I was excited, my first boyfriend but only until he came back to me and asked for another Oreo because his fell. I was down to the last one but I didn't want to lose my only friend over a cookie so I gave it to him. He was so happy and so was I. Swinging my head side to side, I noticed Sarah, the little girl who laughed at my haircut was eating an Oreo and Adrian was too. That little liar! He gave her my cookie. I gave him my last cookie! I was so angry I wanted revenge right away. I didn't want to be his friend anymore. I took a pencil, marched up to him and said ever so nicely "Adrian if you're really strong you can break this pencil .." Without hesitation, the little shit broke my pencil.....and my heart too. Crying, I hurriedly went to the teacher and told her that Adrian broke my pencil, he couldn't deny it. Everyone saw, including that bitch Sarah. So, he got detention and well she, I pushed her off the swing at recess. I got my revenge.