I Have Never Known Peace, and Neither Have You by Pritheva Zakaria
Poetry Editor Pritheva Zakaria shares a prose piece about the paradoxical nature of the world when it comes to judging others, and how we perceive others isn’t just black and white.
No one really knows what they look like. We only know what we look like through rear-view mirrors, makeup vanities, and obscure pictures we take of ourselves. We exist somewhere in between our school picture day photos and the dim-lit disposable camera photos we take at parties. Humans are not omnipresent beings though. Instead, we are one-track-minded individuals who can only see what’s in front of us. We are so obsessed with ourselves because we never get to see ourselves. Instead, what’s in front of all of us are people. Jealousy and resentment fill the air because of this; we’ll never get to see what we look like when we laugh, cry, smile, or sleep. We only get to see these things about ourselves either through other people or technology. Maybe that’s why I'm obsessed with people loving me and knowing me, because they are the only entities that will ever know what I truly look like. If I could rip out my eyeballs, gut myself of my visionary mobile, just to see what I look like for a fragment of a second, I would. If I could examine myself under a microscope, I would. If I see into my imperfections, insecurities, and wrongdoings, I would.
When I was younger my sister and I would stare into each other’s pools of eyes. It used to be my favorite game to play, my favorite pastime. But what we didn’t realize at 10 and 12 was that we would look into each other’s deep eyes just to see our own reflections. What I saw in her eyes was my small frame and crooked teeth. As young girls we were taught to value our external beauty, to keep up with ourselves, to not let ourselves go, because once you do, people would notice, and isn’t that just arguably the worst thing? Growing up is not a linear thing, it’s a back-and-forth-pulley system in which you have to learn to rewire your brain and the way you operate to preserve your own mental and physical well-being.
Learning to let go of what people don’t see even though we think they see is the biggest part. But as you get older you’re told that whatever you do is not enough, that you’re not enough. Everything you do is manipulative and calculated, and you couldn’t possibly be sincere because all we care about is vanity. This paradox we live in is quite frankly impossible to leave, but impossible to live in as well.
But can you blame us, we have no idea what we look like! And right next to that, we’re fed those ideas and missions of finding proper beauty and happiness. I have never known peace, because girls like me are always ready so we don’t have to get ready. Girls like me are never the first chosen to be on the team, so we always anticipate the sidelines. Putting on our best dresses for the show because we know we’re not actually a part of it. The solution to this disastrous mindset is to constantly remind yourself you are the exact opposite of the words you curse at yourself in the dead of the night.
It’s easy for me to critique others, especially when I’m on the outside. I’ll never know what it’s like to be like you, yet my mind will still draw conclusions. We run formulas and scientific experiments in our heads about the way each and every person operates, but we’ll never ever know. The only way we could ever get a glimpse into the way someone operates is through how they treat others.
The closest I’ll ever have to see what I truly look like is in the faces, identities, wrinkles, and past and future histories of my sister, mom, and grandma. I only know what I look like through my mother describing me as looking like my dad’s mother, and my friends demanding that I look like my sister, truly. I look at the people in my life and wonder where on earth they are getting these comparisons from, but once again, they are the only people who truly know what I look like. I swallow my pride, bite my tongue, and nod. They know best. My mother knows best. I don’t know anything, I’m not as smart as I think. These are the mantras I repeat in my head as I look into all my friends and family’s eyes.
Determining whether or not something or someone is beautiful puts too much responsibility on humans; this is not what we’re made for. To explore, read, eat, and love, those are the things that make up my life. Placing others on a subjective scale of beauty which equates to worth and value is something I’m not cut out for. Because of this paradoxical power we all seem to have, it makes me resent myself even more. If I could love myself the way I'm told I should love myself, I would. We are constantly told that we should love our bodies and brains and hearts, because that’s all we got for the rest of our lives. But, it’s so hard when you curse your ancestral line for making you look the way you do. As if you could point your finger and blame someone for the way you look and the way you act, everything we criticize in this lifetime is ridiculous and superficial. We walk around the streets thinking that we are being judged by everyone, but the truth is, everyone is so focused on how they are presenting themselves that they don’t even have the capacity to evaluate you. I’ve never been good at listening, so maybe that’s why I can’t listen to my own advice. I’m so tough behind my screens and papers and journals, but I can’t seem to wrap my head around the idea of being beautiful in my own right.
So the pedestal that I place my friends on, solely because they are the only beings in the world that actually know what I look like, and in some right, I’m one of the only beings that knows what they look like, reiterates the arbitrary rules that define what it means to be human. To be human means you judge yourself before you judge others. To be human means you study yourself in the mirror for hours but won’t second-look someone on the street. Being a human being with a beating heart means that you’ll break every bone in your body before your best friend’s soul is touched. If we’re all like this, then why do we even think twice about how we are perceived by others? Everyone is looking for their own ray of sunshine, no one is focusing on the big bright ball in front of you.
My best friend is the taller, smarter, kinder, athletic version of me. My sister is the older, taller, smarter, prettier version of me. In some ways, my little brother will grow up to be the male-presenting, less-emotional, taller version of me. We all define the people in our lives through ourselves. To us, everyone is someone in relation to our beings and states of mind. And according to my state of mind, they are all versions of me.
When you think the whole world despises you, that all your friends hate you, that simply isn’t true. In fact, we would hate ourselves to hell and back before we would ever let our friends think we can’t stand them. Maybe when they’re having a rough day, they’re just having a rough day, it has nothing to do with you. Maybe it really isn’t all about you.
When the sun sets and I tuck myself into my twin-sized bed, maybe it will all be okay. Maybe everything that racks my brain will end up becoming the humorous stories I tell at parties that make my friends and strangers laugh. From the way my friend’s eyes crinkle up when she’s laughing to the way my little brother’s breath rises up and down when he’s sleeping, the world is always moving. Maybe to move on, you have to look for the things that make you want to see the sun in the dawn and the moon in the dusk. Every heartbreak, irrational fear, awkward first meeting, family reunion, inequality, and burnt toast is a human reminder that it will all be okay. I’ll play that game with my sister in which we look into each other’s eyes, but this time, I’ll try and try to look for her in those eyes instead of…me.