I'm a Fan: A Novel

by Sheena Patel

What is the line between being vulnerable and prostrating yourself for a system that won’t recognise you?

We take on our parents’ struggle as if it were our own while dismissively exploiting the privilege of self-actualisation. We are able to ask, who am I, a question our parents were never able to ask themselves—but have we ever stopped to ask, what exactly is it we want to gain access to?

I heave up salty, fat tears in buckets from the blue caves of my stomach to prove the depths of my love for him.

I want to gain immortality because of my brain and not because of the potential of my womb.

If I stay still then maybe I won’t disturb the sadness which lodges itself between my organs, thickens my blood and keeps me tripping downwards into circular, repetitive thoughts.