Posted by Aweracker gray
February 25, 2017

NOTE: This post has been self-published by the author. Anyone can write on Youth Ki Awaaz.

In the past month, I’ve heard a lot of people talking about me, where am I? How am I? Where am I headed? Why did I vanish all of a sudden?

In the last 25 days, I have questioned myself again and again. Time and again, one thing that remained constant. If I can go back, take my actions back. Take everything back. Fantasized about how things would have been today, when I would have thought about myself and not about what I wanted, what I desired. The very thing that I desired, will never happen. There are something in life that will never be yours, I learned it the hard way.

The one thing that remained constant though, was, at the end of the day nobody cares. No one really gives a shit that you’re wearing a mask everyday to work and telling people that you’re fine. Even if you are sharing your feelings, and people say they understand. They don’t! I was told a million times, Hey, Yash, everything will be fine. Don’t be negative. Don’t sulk. You need to go out more.

But, in the end they never understood, actually, I never did. They haven’t faced the problems I have faced, and I wish, they never do.

I have been brought up by fabulous parents. I am proud to say this. But I have also had my share of ups and downs. My share of faltering around. So much so, that the purpose of my life became an aim to fit in. To be cared about, to be known, to be acknowledged and loved. It became so very negative, that I tried to become someone I am not. Someone who I can never be.

I started to question my race, question my body, question my diet, question my integrity, questioned my talents and questioned my love for myself.

A million times, I have been ridiculed of where I am from, Bihar, I have heard million times, You Bihari Chut! I have heard a million times, Yash, you are so fat. I have heard a million times, “I can see your briefs through your shithole of a jeans”. I have heard a million times, “You are here to write for us and you can’t even speak proper English.” And I did, what I could do best, masked them. Make them others, feel like everything is totally fine with me.

Yeah, sometimes it actually hurt me, sometimes it actually made me feel miserable.

Sometimes I locked myself in the office loo, and cried, and cried and hoped that Dad, please come back and save me. But what happened? Nothing. In the end, I came back to a broken home. A home which was devoid of any happiness.

I was living alone, away from family, away from people who actually cared.

And it started messing with me, I committed things I am not proud off, actually I hate myself for it. I am 23 years old and for god sakes, Fuck this. I have tried to end it, I have tried to get lost, drown into alcohol and wake up like nothing happened. But it always remained.

Countless weekends I have stayed at home, because no one wanted me come out with them. I tried everything, I went to places, I went to helping groups, I talked and called people, who knew my condition, and yet nothing seemed alright. Nothing seemed to work.

They did not understand, that a boy, a simple boy has left everything behind to start a new life in a new city. A city people called the best city in all of India to work in.

They did not understand, that maybe this guy had a harsh history with abuse and being bullied time and again. Maybe they never knew that this guy has been made fun of his appearance all his life. Maybe this guy does not have the wits to answer back, and as a result he has been the butt of all jokes. And maybe all he needed was a hug and a friend who could have asked him, Hey Yash, Let’s go out have some fun.

And lately, I did something I am not proud of. I got consumed by hurt and sorrow, it fuelled my self pity. I wallowed about my problems and felt devastatingly insecure about life. I felt as unwanted as someone can ever be. I came home and cried a gazillion times, trying to change myself. And believe me I tried. I tried, I tried and I tried. But one thing that stopped me, was my love. The love for others around me. I changed myself into something that I am not, actually I tried changing into something, but at the end I became she self-pitying, hollow shell of a man, who just wanted to be felt loved, by the use of making others feel guilty about his condition and his suffering. Not to mention, my self-respect went to negative by this point.

And then,

I don’t know where and how this happened, but the very people who made fun of me, were the people I still find interest in. I started working out ways to be cooler in front of them and be likeable. I tried impressing them as much as possible. I went out of my ways and did everything, financially, emotionally and even physically, hoping that one day, They will acknowledge me.

But I was utterly wrong, and I hurt myself, mentally and physically. That was the end of it, I finally revealed my wounds and my hurt (hoping for some pity, I hate myself), I lashed out at these people, and at the end, it resulted in, me getting fired and getting done. Left alone, sent back home, depressed and devastated. A threat, that there will be a legal action against you if you don’t leave. Leave the job that you loved more than anything in this world at that moment. Leave because, if you don’t you’ll be made to bend over and fucked for your whole life.

And now, I know, where I faltered, where it went all wrong. It went wrong in trying to achieve things that was never going to get to me. It went wrong when I actually believed in people, that they will actually understand the pain I have gone through. How very madly I want others to feel loved. Because, believe me, I have gone through hell, and this, helping others, is not a social service, it’s the drive that I don’t want anyone to feel, what I’ve felt, every single day, from the past 6 months, from the past 9 years.

The 12 year old kid, who was made fun of because of his complexion and his bad grades. The 16 year old kid, who was made fun of because he could not speak English properly and came from a native eastern state, never knowing that this guy just lost one of his parents. The 23 year old boy, who was made fun of because he was from a backward state, had a big fat belly and wasn’t just good enough to hangout with.



And as for me, I am going to be okay, like I have always been, but know this. Your hate and you outlook towards others will define what kind of person you actually are.

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