DAUNTLESS

Because of bullying, I was forced to become an observer – part of wallpaper – 
watching the nuance of situations, feeling the energy,
standing outside the fray.

 
 
 

When I was younger, bullying grenades thrown by my peers devoured me from within. Depression birthed inside my stomach and sent its fingers crawling across my bones. Low self-confidence settled dust-like along my ribs, a corset to hold back my words. Soon even my teeth began to glue shut. Because of bullying, I was forced to become an observer – part of wallpaper – watching the nuance of situations, feeling the energy, standing outside the fray.

I became silent, almost like a mausoleum of words. So I did what most diffident and introvert human beings do – I went online. Every night, my blog became my canvas and little by little was wildly filled with words.
But on a drizzly, winter morning someone had left a hurtful comment addressing my thick eyebrows. Fear and anger consumed every ounce of my being, every thought of my mind. I felt worthless and subsequently, deleted everything. A month after that incident, I received an email from a well-known photographer. They were interested in taking pictures of me. When I arrived at the studios in London, the photographer hurriedly stood up from a leather chair and said, ‘your thick eyebrows are beautiful.’ That moment became the unexpected break I desperately craved for. I went home, poured my heart out and spit every fossillised word on my blog. I woke up the following morning to a barrage of emails but one stood out and precisely, four words: ‘your story saved me.’

Today this voice from everywhere, from everything thunders quietly in my soul. Because of writing, freedom flies through me, breaking every chain shackling my heart, flooding me with joy, peace and love. Writing about my own experiences became my first taste of delicious insurrection. I found novels and poems between the silences of dusk that split open my eyes – and I was no longer a captive of sadness. I found Plato, Kerouac, Huxley and Proust painting the path scarlet for my personal moon to reach to the other side. 

Through the course of my life’s journey, I’ve learned that people fall into three categories – one might be like Achilles, who was driven by passion; a Don Quixote who followed his dreams; or a Hamlet who questioned everything. I strive to be a combination of all three. 

Someone once told me that the purpose of life is to find your gift but the meaning of life is to give that gift away. And that’s when I realized that writing has a boundless, unpredictable power that can triumph over life’s pain to transcend, unite, escape and inspire. And today the magic of this comes into play. In a world filled with evil and darkness, human beings seek refuge to poems, novels and other forms of writing. And that is why I am dauntlessly venturing into this new chapter of my life – to inspire people, to save souls.