“I Need, I Want, I Crave, I Want,
I Need”

by Raihan Jane

I wear a genus Cycnoches as my tiara.

Embody the Black Swan Pas de Deux,

like a swan’s head, a little flower flies.

 

How do they hold themselves up?

Those petite little girls, disguised as obedient marionettes.

Swaying on their feet as if floating through the wind.

 

They are worked to be soft, fragile,

to swirl even when their toes bleed,

to act emotions through their fractures, which I don’t think, 

even existed.

 

‘till they are good. Is my teddy tucked in as it should be?

I want to be like them, too.

85 lbs, 5 feet 8 inches, slender neck, graceful, elegant, flawless.

 

Tiptoeing with a tutu net that grazes like blades,

I found these voices behind my mind whispering —

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

 

I don’t whine. I don’t slip.

I don’t beg. Where did I put the plate, again?

I don’t neglect. 

 

I don’t slip — not that many times.

Despite that, I persisted!

I—I—I try. I can be like them, too. Perfect.

 

I’ve always tried — Where are my pointe shoes? — my best.

Desperation hugs me when I do cross pointe,

compacted like a ribbon, arms stretched to my neck,

 

fingers itching for a piece of my throat.

Pulled into the chaos of the never-ending trying,

I listen to the fluttering wings growing from my spine.

 

My stomach’s in knots.

What else do I need to do to be perfect?

Don’t tell me to stop picking at my hair follicles.

 

What did I do wrong?

Where is my mirror?

I don’t mind having no friends.

 

The only person standing in my way is myself.

My cowardice, miserliness, 

Let them take me.

 

I need to lose myself to gain a new self.

How could I have let my physique sink itself,

a swan’s corpse drifting towards the lakebed?

 

I am the black besmirch,

the divided corner,

the wings flared out. I will not be caged again.

 

And when I feel perfect, 

I know.

It would just be the beginning.

CONTRIBUTOR’S STATEMENT:

I am an advocate for mental health, especially women’s, as they face notably higher rates of depression and anxiety in adulthood. Watching ‘Black Swan’, I was both shocked and excited because of the similarities I discovered between Nina Sayers and myself. I was eager to know the ending, constantly in a state of feverish anticipation. I was first introduced to the term ‘mental health’ when I had social anxiety. One where I found it unnecessarily difficult to do a simple action while others were watching. Years later, I found Black Swan and Nina’s character relatable. To me, perfection as a student meant achieving straight A’s, ticking off a long list of extracurricular activities, and being the top student in my cohort. I loved to win and when I saw a crack, even a minuscule slit, I could not help but break down in tears—tears that threatened to flood that hole into something bigger. There were many apparent mental illnesses found in Black Swan, including schizophrenia, borderline personality disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. One thing’s for sure: Nina experienced psychosis amid attaining perfection. Throughout the film, she hallucinates and feels fearful. She self-harms, struggles with eating, and becomes paranoid easily. My dramatic monologue poem aimed to modernise and pay tribute to Black Swan—the language being modernised while paying homage to its psychological depth. This dramatic monologue poem keeps the film’s themes of obsession, self-destruction, and transformation. It includes subtle hallucinations, relating them to her difficulty distinguishing between reality and fantasy. There is a usage of repetition that reflects her compulsive nature. In terms of symbolism, the genus Cycnoches tiara, which resembles a swan’s head, serves as both a mark of beauty and rot. The poem contains deliberate bits of Nina’s perception, with muddled notes of paranoia and regression. Her idea of being perfect haunts her throughout the film, just as she unknowingly haunts herself in this poem.