A writer & user of Now&Me, Ramit Sharan has shared his journey of overcoming self-doubt and accepting his real self with utmost confidence. His deep and metaphorical thoughts will question your conscience, motivate you to shed down all the covers and embrace your true self.
A frowning giant towered above myself. For I reached about its navel. A magnificent round-shaped head supported by a firm and muscular neck. If you crumpled me up I’d fit in one pec of its chest. Perhaps there would be room to spare. The body of it- a shining work, like the well-sculpted statues of greek gods made with utmost care and precision. The color like that of a swollen grape, a purple lather to wrap around pristine masculinity. It bent over with its bun-like abdomen muscles clenched, its horns protruding out of its head. Took both its hands and placed them above my head. It’s sharp triangular nails piercing into my skin. It tore in and tore apart. And my mass was ripped into two and left open. From the head down to the spine till my groin from where on it did not tear.
There I stood, left open and exposed. There I stood, with dissonance riddling my being. With pain becoming a device of myself rather than a phenomenon to avoid. I learnt long ago not to shy away from it. I learnt long ago not to run from it but to embrace it. But to listen to what my brain tells me. To find answers to why there is pain.
I stood unopposed to anyone else. For anyone outside me could sense corruption within, using their subconscious human instinct. I stood opposed to myself. I had managed to be physically worn out by years of unexplainable plight before I even met this giant, with its pointy rhinoceros-like horns stemming from inches above its eyes. If you saw me, you would be too distracted by my immediate shortcomings. A bent back, a beer belly, a balding boy. Yet, when the room was dark and a light was projected onto me. My silhouette would show that partially torn apart, wandering man. My upper torso like a body bag with the color of my skin, its zip flung wide open with two sides of mass suspended in the air, dangling and unsure. From inside emerged the skeleton of my being.
For when they saw my face, it was but a reflection of who they themselves fear to be. But for me, it was the sign of strength amassed over years that they could not comprehend.
A hairless, naked, crying man who sat inside. Who spoke only to create an illusion of safety on the outside. For his shrill voice commanded the spiders of superficiality to net together with a web around me. The one that held together an image portrayed to the rest. For when life takes a stick and pokes at the rubbery, shriveled, hidden man. He does not know anything but to shut down. How to hide.
There stood that marvelous giant whose purple skin reminded me both of the innocence of a Teletubby and of the galaxy, so vast and ever-expanding. And reached into me to find that man crawled up inside. With its nails, it found him and with the confidence of its strong palm grabbed on. The hairless one with rubbery tubes of fat caressed in its palm and rescued. Exterminated from my existence. Now, apart from myself. The giant did what it had to, took what it needed to take and left.
And so I stood. And so I walked. And so I lived. Exposed and afraid. Of those who were, Of those who came, Of those whom I had still not known. And so I stood. Finding the glue to seal up the exposure. Not knowing what it’s called. Not knowing whom to call. Not knowing anything but myself.
And as I was left alone, with no guidelines, to find that glue. I let go of that need to find it. I took on the construction of something new. And within myself, I found the light. A word I had forgotten.
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