We are hollow like the bottles that we drank.

We are hollow like the bottles that we drank.

I look up at my phone like every morning.

Instagram filled with fabrication of documented lies or I like to believe it that way. I just linger around the idea of using the app day planner but I know what will happen through the day.

I have been living almost the same day everyday since past few years. Which my mum gladly likes to refer as “running out of time” phone blows up with texts from my folks for meeting up as usual.

I find my shoes, get my jacket and try to get some money from mum and make my way out. My mum stops me to blame me for everything under the sun but lends me what I need for a typical summer day of my life.

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Summer days are longer and well summery.
Must be the reason why we feel so warm, youthful, lethargic and timeless even though we are younger as a minute.

We don’t need any policies, no out dated stereotypical rules. We know we are the coolest.

Getting tipsy, running around on summer nights, playing stupid dare games.
We roam around the roads where the houses don’t change; we watch each other tirelessly trying to grow up and we effortlessly fail, we mock at that because it’s humorous.

It must be humorous otherwise the alternative would be something else related with guilt of failure.

Eyes get rolled when people try to shove mannerisms down our throat. They think we dumb? We don’t know that? Everyone does. We just choose to be diva queen in tears who just don’t care.

Eyes study the floor when they boast about their studies of business and human bodies. Makes us wonder why people talk so much!

Eyes won’t stop bashing skulls but still they don’t quit their blathers.
They and we talk like there is actually something to say but the truth is we are just killing time.
Cause we are never done throwing useless words at each other. Words summed up to sentences that never really hits but ends up with burned throats.

I am glad that we stayed to feel timeless, hopeless and useless rebels. We want this summer to end and never end at the same time.

I return with the same old feet and shoes, with jacket swinging in my hand. I try to slip as quietly as possible but the booze won’t let me.

Mum’s voice rings, “who’s over there?” A minute or so flies she is standing right in front of me hands crossed against her chest with a frown blended with anger. I know that look on her face; I see it everyday on every summer night. I don’t like being choked by my mother’s love. So I try and ignore.

She just shakes her head in disbelief and walks away murmuring something about responsibilities, growing up and being tired.

I produce a short giggle moreover a yelp.
I am tired of myself too.
I am Tired of people, Tired of life, and Tired of expectations.

So, I decide to disappear because I have to breathe for another summer day of my life. A year long summer to survive. I try to disappear into my dark room staring the darker ceiling.

We are hollow. But we believe we are brave.

(listen to lorde’s 400 lux)

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Man enough?

Man enough?

(Join us to normalize modern masculinity. Let’s just get rid of these gender stereotypes.)

Maybe I was around 5 years old. My daddy had bought me a new 4 wheeler pedal bike. I was able to learn it as quick as possible and then after few weeks my dad got rid of the small wheels at the back of my ride. 

I was terrified with this modification. I felt that it was somehow wrong but my dad insisted it wasn’t. 

So, I did as he told. I sat on my cycle with out my deepest consent and I looked up at him with a frown of disbelief.

He returned the warmest smile and said, “Go on I will be grabbing right back at your seat” I said, “I can’t do it!” and all I heard was “just pedal.” So, I pedaled as slow as I could but my heart was beating faster than anything. 

I was constantly screaming “Don’t let go yet! I am not ready” But little did I know my dad wasn’t behind me. When realization hit me hard I lost my balance and fell down.
I could feel my tears running down the top of my nose. It felt a bit tingly but in a weird way. From distant I see my dad running towards me with a little box. I knew that box had a brown liquid which would give my wound a burning sensation. I never understood why my parents would give me box of pain instead of box of healing. 

My dad came up to me with that “I got it all under control” look. He wore his spectacles like he wears before doing any important thing and he started cleaning my wound with the brown liquid. My agitation increased and I probably cried louder but my dad said, “Don’t cry. This will just take a minute! You are big boy right? High five, High five me. Say you’re a man: ‘I’m a man!’” 

At the end of the dressing session I was whimpering, with screwed up face flashing anger, gritting my teeth and pounding my chest, barking “I’m a man”

We get that society has pressurized women to look and act in a certain way for centuries. But how many of us has ever realized that men are also expected to look and act in a certain manner? It is depressing as a man to verify and re-verify masculinity, our own identity.

 It is funny how a set of unwritten rules have affected us this much. The responsibilities with bunch of pros and cons are deep rooted in people’s mind. We are expected to be that young angry men with the sportsmanship on the top. There is a liability for men to be presented in a certain ways otherwise they are assumed as un-masculine by all adolescents, pre-adolescents and even adults sometimes.

So, I want to talk about how people and we men ourselves throw this subject under a rug just because we are too ashamed to deal with this.

With women lashing out on banners like, “RISE OF WOMEN” “BETTER THAN MEN” is only widening the gender gap between men and women. I guess this is the time where women should give some space, cut some slack. Just enough with “he is men” and “she is women” I guess this is the high time for young people to be relevant with the modern masculinity, Knowledge of equality that should be passed down to our upcoming generation.

If women are encouraged with being emotionally honest than men should be also encouraged equally to recognize and speak about the spiritual damage they are suffering from years and years. With the media projecting the same heroic stereotypes over and over again. 

We are obliged to form an image of an ideal man that says in a bold letter, “WE ARE MEN WE DON’T FEEL ANYTHING!” Examples of these destructive behaviors range from the socially approved, such as workaholism, to the criminally punishable, such as drug addiction and violence. Men are twice as likely as women to suffer from rage disorders.

Society has bunch of unattainable and unobtainable standard in store for us. This is our time to get past through the out dated ideas of definition of “real man”. Real man is someone who accepts his flaws. Listens to others and let himself speak out his emotions. We just need to stop searching stereotypes in men rather we need to live and let live. Stop slaughtering of young men in the name of proving their own identity.