An Essay on my Innermost Verses

Categories: A PicnicEssay

Sipping my coffee from the table that looks out on the lush green lawn, I look at the girl sitting across a young man, on a picnic rug, stealing bites from his ice cream with the man simply looking at her adoringly. That used to be me; impish and cheerful, playfulness was my language. I can still recall the day we met, your voice so enchanting and your demeanour so calm. Few minutes into the conversation, we hit it off so well that we forgot the company we had.

I held them so dear to me, the evenings we spent doing our homework and playing Scotland Yard. I used to reminisce how you gradually let me into your world, sharing your poetry with me, the most intimate ones at that.

You were like an oasis of tranquillity in the hustle and bustle of the life I lived. Then, the winds that passed us by made me feel entrapped. I was confused as you continued to say “please” but I was still filled with unease.

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That day, it wasn’t just you I had pushed away, I walked away from my previous self, exuberating with self digust. Every sunset, I remained quite, blaming myself for all that happened, still feeling the relief for pushing you away. Was I underestimating what had ensued that evening? Were my NOs not loud enough? Who would believe me, the girl who did fanatical things on a whim, about a guy respected for being so sensible and wise? Did I lead him on? Was it my giggles?

It was an unending abyss, one I knew no escape from.

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I was crying for help but had nowhere to go. She is not an exception but a rule, her story is everyone else’s too. It is NOT NORMAL to be bullied for saying NO. Pulling yourself deeper into the perpetual cycle of shame and self disgust is NOT what you deserve. No harassment is lesser in intensity, it is violation of integrity of the person and should be rebuked in all ways possible. It isn’t your fault that a man does not have the basic social skills to differentiate wanted advances from unwanted advances. We also need to start LISTENING to people who have such stories to share and then scream at the top of our lungs, be the voice for those who’re still entrapped, for people whose bodies were defiled and the souls scarred. There’s a lot to be done. The battle has just begun.

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An Essay on my Innermost Verses. (2022, Jan 02). Retrieved from https://studymoose.com/an-essay-on-my-innermost-verses-essay

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