T H E I D E A
You love -
The outside.
The mind.
The voice.
The perfect size.
You love the picture that you have in your head.
Of you and I.
Talking about the world in all its worldliness.
Of you and I.
Debating about religion,
and parenthood
and dimensions.
You love the shyness
when you look at me for too long.
You love the eye rolls
when I’m convinced you’re wrong.
You love to picture the ‘vibe’.
The laugh.
The fact that your friends wish they were with me.
And how much your mum adores me.
How I can play with you brother.
And put your baby sister to bed,
place a kiss upon her head - so gently
You love -
the outside.
the mind.
the voice.
the perfect size.
And whilst this is all me.
It’s not the all of me.
There’s so much more than that.
But you won’t accept it.
You love that me.
You don’t care to know the rest.
You don’t care to know the defects
and I can’t hide them anymore.
And now you refuse to acknowledge
the cracks showing in my outside.
Those cracks so loud.
Make me less perfect.
Make Me More flawed.
Make Me Less robot.
Make Me More human.
But you’re
not listening.
Not wanting to.
And you’re not the first.
Nor will you be the last.
But I swear I’m tired.
I’m tired of playing with these others that only love the idea.
The outside.
The mind.
The voice.
The perfect size.
It’s not real.
I’m not the idea you created of me.
I’m not your stepford wife with a degree.
I told you to wait before you fell in love with me.
I warned you.
Said you wouldn’t love me once you got to know it all.
But you laughed and brushed it off.
You all laugh and brush it off.
And then I’m destroyed because you decided you don’t love me
don’t know me
anymore.
That maybe in fact you didn’t know me at all.
But you stay.
For The outside.
The mind.
The voice.
The size.
Because The Idea
is too perfect to let go.
And maybe -
just maybe
if you ignore it for long enough
I’ll stay like that forever.
- Rumaisa Uddin