this is circa 2022: the end of adolescence and the beginning of another pandemonium. 

this is:

new adult

Hallelujah! The end is nigh

The moon illuminates, shines on,  all crescent, or half or even full…

Craters and the phases and astronomy

This is a lovesong, ballad, free verse, wordsworthian elliot, so alive and dead

My moon is in cancer, the crab, the hermit, so unfit for society am i

My moon is in cancer, the mother, the child, so unfit to be either am i

I stood at the cliffside of youth two years ago

And the fall from it has been, exquisite, irresponsible, arousing and brutal

Like a test, assignment, paper, essay, theories and theories of words and letters

ill-prepared i now sit at the exam hall of the cosmos, nerves racking against saturn’s rings

20 and unprepared! Shame on me! Shame on my family! Shame on my cat! Shame on my cow!

A whole world old McDonald didn’t prepare me for, corporate lingo illiterate, CV unbuilt I stare up at the cliff long past me

*Sighs *(I knew I should’ve gone to Kidzania when I was 10)

Hallelujah! The end is nigh

Regards and salutations, I hope this email, thought, head cannon, plot summary, lovesong finds you well

Happy new year! Exclusive deals ranging from 20% to 100% off on emotional support, romantic availability and an unemployable degree await you!

Buyer’s remorse has never felt worse

All brands are the same. Leaving my father’s wallet empty and his mind full.

This year-not-like-the-others I met my husband, my love, my wife, my mate like in the wild 

The rules of the jungle are simple. Swipe left or right … through trees, shrubs and carnivorous vines 

Fruit, flower, berry I had never tasted never known never reached 

Left-right left-right I march to the beat of every drum, a hundred drumsticks are no match for my palpitating heart

16 and loveless, 19 and the love rejects translation

20 and loveless! Shame on me and only me because my family, cat and cow don’t know of it

A whole journey of one year, a whole Odyssey comprised in it

Like Penelope I weave the story and like her spouse I sail the world

Multitasking is an undervalued skill on my CV too

Hallelujah! The end is nigh

Journaling is a healthy coping mechanism for grief, heartbreak, insomnia, diarrhea, and hangovers so i write:

“Dear Diary, This year has droned on completely unnoticed by me as if it were any other year. Technically, any other year would include a freezing new year’s eve, a lonely sweltering summer, a flooded rickshaw and a game I’d never participated in – cuffing season. All these have turned on their heads quite completely this-year-not-like-the-others but meaning and truth are still not found. It is a futile search. Especially since I went searching for this cosmic substance around cock, under balls and in the insides of a custom made ring. My hair is different. I don’t love it. Everyone stares. He and I have meaningful conversations about how there is no meaning. I’m upset he feels that way.”

I am everything. Anything anyone would want. He knew not what he wanted. 

I am a post structure. I am theory. I am indeterminate. I do not need love. I need a mirror. Will you be my mirror?

Tell me. Is this outfit ok? Will I be featured on your page? Make me look good please. I need to look good.

Hallelujah! The end has come and gone

Post structure. Post Modern. Post Human. Post You. Post me. Post…. Office?

I am a Letter. Scandalous and Unholy. Scarlett Hawthrone. 

Post me at a confession stand. It’s been so long since I’ve been to church.

(Born among faith which I betray everyday, I hope to meet sir Peter at his gates)

Heaven looks down at me gaping and blind, underqualified yet again.

The apostle then asks me, “Have art thou any past experience with saints and angels of the sort my child?” 

Another rejection, another stair to climb, the same rock smiles at my return. Sisyphus is proud of his daughter 

It is 8am. I am late. I run, gallop, jump then fall, parkour and race 

Another Odyssey, another class, another fate and another call

Hallelujah! The end is nigh, that is all.

Haritha Vattolikal 

Haritha is a graduate in English from Sophia College (Autonomous). A manic pixie nightmare™️, she seeks to upheave her romantic, academic and existential journey through her work. She hopes to bring closer a community so fraught by the capitalist standards that divide and conquer it through cathartic, sarcastic and provocative expression and language.

“Why I consider myself a Blahcksheep: Living life having no history but with a million stories to tell makes me an amateur at life, playing with form, personality and visions. This intent to build jungle gyms at the end of time is very blahcksheep coded and what I wish to be a part of as well.”