warnings: pills / medication, suicidality / suicide attempts / suicidal gestures & ideation, knives, roofs, poison, hospitalization / institutionalization, doctor negligence, illness, marginalization on multiple axes

my name is ______. (____ is my pseudonym, but it’s not really false). i am twenty years, three months and nineteen days old today. i still have trouble swallowing my pills sometimes/often (depending on the pill~ the size, the contours, the shape, the crevices, the indentations, et cetera). i am a writer, though i often write pretentiously. i am also a failed writer. maybe i’m more of a poet, but i want to be both. the whole, in general. if there is a whole. (isn’t a poet a whole too? i’m doing a disservice to poetry to consider it a part of the whole of writing..) i have written lots of stories, but they are all beginnings and maybe a couple finished short stories. i have written them less and less over the years. i was my most prolific around the ages of nine to thirteen or so. i switched from handwriting to computers (mostly) around the time when i was about eleven and a half.

i tried to kill myself when i was fifteen and a half. there were the gestures before that, the ideation– the holding of the knife, the checking for the pills, and so on– and i’m not sure if you count the times i went up to the roof (but didn’t jump) before that. or the time i lay on the sofa for a good while and contemplated taking poison when i was twelve. since then i’ve had a fair number of attempts and numerous, numerous gestures. ideation and attempts, ideation and attempts. i suppose it was that (sort of first) time that really defined things, though. i ended up in hospital involuntarily because it was the u.s. and i was new to things.

i grew up mostly in india. don’t ask me what it’s like. i’m biracial and angry. an angry transnational(?) culturally clashing shifting crossing westernized half white half western south asian indian stranded between source(?) and diaspora. i’m also disabled and angry. and queer and angry, complicated pansexual and panromantic and polyamorous and kinky. i’m deaf or i have bilateral moderate to severe hearing loss and i’m hearing-aided and orally assimilated and it’s not congenital though it happened within a few days of my birth due to severe neonatal jaundice and doctors’ negligence the day i was born. i also have a digitally atypical left hand and i might explain that some other time if you don’t understand, or if you ask. i write poems about privilege and marginalization (others’ and mine, the complexity of selfhood(s) and relation(s) and the spaces fragmented, and the battle lines). i have always been crazy and anxious. i have ocd and borderline seems to fit me as well and i’m regularly psychotic (in good, bad, and medium ways).

i also love art.
.

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