The Human Experiment: Convoluted Thoughts on Growing Up Too Late

I want to be my very own human experiment. Growing up never feels like it follows a linear narrative. It is quite circular, as a matter of fact, and the events can never be explained through a causal mechanism.

Growing up is quite convoluted.

I will leave home soon. I will leave this semi-painful house with these stained walls. Soon I will say goodbye to the floor where I sleep every Sunday night, listen to my favourite song and cry about how this feeling isn’t what growing up should feel like. Soon, I will say goodbye to the mirror that has seen me love different versions of myself every six months. I think I will have a family this time. I think I will have people I can trust with my heart. I hope they understand that even amidst their mockery, I find comfort. And yet, I still feel lonely every day. I don’t understand romance. Maybe I never will, maybe I don’t want it anymore. Constant abandonment has led to a persisted form of bewilderment. Constant loneliness has led to a persisted form of distorted self-perception.

I long for when I don’t have to rest my head on these tear-stained pillows anymore. I long to forget the smell of alcohol and the sounds of their insults and regrets. And yet, I will miss them. I will miss my mother. I will miss my father. After all, I am the product of my mother’s sacrifice, of my father’s remorse. I am the product of dinner table arguments. But I realise that I am the product of my shortcomings, of the chances I never took, and my experiences, or maybe even the lack thereof.

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I long for peace. I long for more family. I long to be cared for. I long to care for.

I want to fly on the highway again. I want to hit speed breakers, fly through puddles and the muddy water drench our clothes, clean our dirty souls.

Soon, I will have to find a new home to weep in, to evolve and experiment in. Soon, I will make a new family. I hope they know who they are. I hope they are okay with me building a home in their heart.

I will not let this chance go to waste. I don’t want to understand the circularity of this narrative. I don’t want to waste time trying to understand anymore. I just want to live, and for this melancholy to go away. I want to be my very own human experiment. I want this experiment to fail a hundred times before it succeeds.

Ansuya Mansukhani is an undergraduate student of Liberal Arts in Pune. She expresses herself through writing and enjoys reading, cooking, photography and everything ordinary.

Featured image: Taiki Ishikawa/Unsplash