Ink Drips: Emptiness, angels and the like.

They said, and this was a huge deal at the hospital back then, that when I was born, I didn’t cry. Technically speaking, a crying baby is a good thing. Doctors even slap the child’s behind to coax him into crying; knowing how the shrill screams of a child is a good way to clear the airways of any fluids that aren’t supposed to be there. I know right? Pretty morbid if you think about it. But that’s actually how they do it.

But I was different. When I was pulled out of my mother’s vagina, I was calm. I have no idea when the butt slapping happened, but this was apparently what happened next; the midwife handed me directly to my father after severing the ‘cord’, and that moment when I opened my eyes for the first time ever, I smiled into my father’s eyes. I freaking smiled into my father’s eyes and showed a zinger of a dimple on one cheek and reached for his face. That day, in that hospital, they called me an angel.

Apparently I was the most visited baby in the nursery for being that angel who smiles. But my fame was short lived. My mother had a very easy delivery with me that the day after, she was cleared to bring me back home. You’d think that this would be that part of the story when I’d be revealing how I change into the biggest brat this side of the Middle Earth. But not really.

Every single account of my child hood tells of a young quiet boy who liked to keep to himself and talked only when he was addressed. I often asked if I was shy, and they’d automatically say that I was the very opposite of shy. I sang and danced. I did poetry readings and bible verse recitations as if I owned the stage. I was, according to most people then, the perfect little boy. By this time, it’s important to say that I was very cute too. Well, I still am now. But back then, I had no freckles, I had pale olive skin and soft eyes. I was still the angel.

By first grade, I got tested and showed a very high IQ – enough to spur on a debate at my private school as to whether or not I was eligible to be placed at a higher grade level. But then, there was that woman who saw me as a threat to his over-achieving son. Long story short, I stayed in my grade level and I was number one by a huge margin. Still, I was everyone’s angel. But now, I started doubting myself.

The time came for that scrawny boy to enter Mordor. Alas, one does not simply just walk into Mordor, as they say.

It was scary as hell. It was when I realized I was gay.

At thirteen, I was seeing a thirty year old man. He was kind enough not to touch me.

At 14, I lost my virginity in a bathroom and I started smoking.

I joined a theatre group which forced me to stay up even past 1 am – which meant that I was given freedom to secretly roam the city whenever there wasn’t any practice. That’s when I “met” people. Those were when I became broken. But the operative word there is “secretly”. To my family, I was still the angel who, by then, to them, was obviously gay. But I knew, I was different. And you could never hide anything from yourself.

High School, changed me. It changed me too much.

I lost sight of who I was. I began to drift. I lost myself. I lost the smile. I grew sad and lonely. I gained weight.

In college, it didn't stop. I lost my body and my face. I turned darker. My eyes, burdened with hatred. I was no more an angel. I loved and lost. The first time I was IN LOVE, I lost her to my own selfishness. All was downhill from there.

I know. It all escalated too quickly. Now, I’m an angel without any wings – clipped off by the years of pain and loneliness. I've lost my smile. I have lost myself.

Everything that this universe has thrown at me had changed me.

So, my dear readers, this is my goodbye. Goodbye, little angel.