I Don’t Like To Go Outside Anymore

image source: Palak Trivedi

i don’t like to go outside anymore.

i wear those pants everyday - 

the ones that fit loose but choke my waist.

the same shirt -

the one so loose i lose all my shape.

my mind knew beauty standards are false -

so i feigned confidence against affronted assaults.

everyone else is wrong -

i have no faults.

yet i began to dislike going outside anymore.

i woke up one day to realize my cocoon of falsehood had fossilized the insecurities into my bones and connected all my joints, becoming part of the fibers of my very being.

and i didn’t like to go outside anymore.

and now, as boundaries are set, the cocoon melts off and here they lay - 

all the dismissed thoughts i thought banished, now displayed 

and like exposed nerves, they feel touched and pained.

and now, i awaken to find my jaw clenched so hard, my face throbs through my gums

and my muscles are so stiff i feel them crack and numb

like old rubber bands hardened by the sun.

and now, when i try to speak, my words break 

like unwanted phone calls, the internal dialogue berates,

and my vocal cords cringe at the cacophony they make when they vibrate.

but still i don’t like to go outside anymore.  

someday, i will love summer the way i love the embraces of autumn

and feel more comfortable in the call for less clothing.

someday, i will speak my mind louder than the advantageous aggressor’s yell 

and my voice will not wilt in the winds their spitting mouths create.

but for now,

i don’t like to go outside anymore.