I become a kid when I am ill. Rather, I become a neglected kid. Resentful that no one is around me to help without asking. Refusing to ask for help myself, because it feels ridiculous. How could I ask a friend to cook me khichdi? How could I let my mother, who I make more than, send me soup via a courier?
I know it’s likely food poisoning this time, but I feel as though all the anger in my body has risen up the layers of my skin. It feels like venom is making its way through my pores, metallic and boiling. It makes me cry out. Whimper, like a child. It’s only natural, after you’re safe, to begin to process prior events.
I have been swallowing too much poison from men. Forcing down the indignities that seemed to manifest one after the other these past few weeks. The lack of replies, the ridiculous calls, the shit-eating grins down the phone, the ludicrous requests. I’m not big on violence, but I sometimes wonder, if I was bigger, stronger, would these men say such stupid things to me?
It’s sad. Some of them really are pathetic. Emotionally unintelligent. Cowardly. I wonder what it would be like if I ever got to be any of those things. Can’t imagine ever running away from a fight. Not even a fight, just a confrontation. Never afraid to face myself. Always got to try. These men, on the other hand, are so weak.
I feel pathetic for even feeling hurt by them. Why should I be upset over someone who doesn’t call? Why cry over the lack of emotional intelligence presented to me? Why think twice about a man who was so drunk he pissed on my bathroom floor? That really is sad.
And yet.
I’m upset that the man who can read my body with the pads of his fingers alone, who played piano for me as I fell asleep at 4am in a different timezone, who curled his body around my own and wrapped his hands around mine, has for all intents and purposes forgotten that I exist. I won’t call him again. I’m upset that the man who stayed with me until I fell asleep, stroking my hair, telling me he wanted to care for me, couldn’t muster up a simple apology. Would rather let me go than be with someone he couldn’t control. I’m upset that the man who I did like but thought had a real problem with drugs and drink chose to block me rather than face himself.
Really, I’m tired of getting disrespected over and over. And frankly, I’ve been so quick to cut them off the moment I see the behaviour, but by then it’s just too late. Damage is done. Would that I could take their words and stuff them back into their mouths, watch them choke. God knows I’m already drowning.