Thursday, June 20, 2019

I've often wondered what it would be like to live someone else's life. Not someone drastically different necessarily, just people I come across everyday. I wonder what living their life would feel like. I wonder how their minds work. How they react to things. I wonder whether they feel the same things I do in specific situations. I wonder if they go through the same turmoil that takes up most of my energy. I wonder if it is as difficult for them to open their eyes and get off the bed every morning as it is for me. Do they too feel like giving it all up several times a day? Do they too go through very high highs and very low lows, all in a span of a few hours? Do they too yearn for a different reality? Do they too look at me and wonder what it is like living in my head?

I wonder if everyone feels things as deeply as I do. If they do, how do they get through the day? I know people who have dreams like owning a specific, very expensive car or creating a very posh clinic. I think those things too sometimes. The next second I'm hit with how meaningless all that is to me. Then I think about what I want out of life. The constant answer through many years has been: peace. All I want is for my mind to be at peace. All I want is to be in a place where I get up every morning and don't yearn for some other reality. And every time I picture myself in this state of being at peace, I am alone. And that relieves me a little bit. I don't picture myself with somebody. It is a very specific picture actually. I am outdoors. There's a stream and on its banks, a huge tree. It is sunny, but pleasantly so. I'm dressed like a man, weirdly. I am walking on the grass. I'm smiling but not thinking. Then I go sit by the stream with my legs outstretched. I close my eyes and listen. The only sound is that of the water running by. I am at peace.

I've often found myself bending and contorting myself to suit what I perceived as people's expectations of me. The most recent one was what I'm still reeling under. I behaved in a way I normally wouldn't. I said things and did things I normally wouldn't. Why? Because I thought if I made this work, if I somehow presented myself in a way that I thought was expected of me, I had a chance at escaping this drudgery. Escape to what? I do not know.

Sometimes, in my saner moments, I know I need help. I know I should be seeing someone who I can pour all this out to and not have them get mad at me or give me condescending looks or have them tell me how I should be grateful for the abundance I live in.

I'm tired of feeling guilty for the things I feel. I'm tired of feeling guilty for wanting something different. I'm tired of feeling guilty for not feeling things I'm expected to by people who have absolutely no idea who I am.

The other day I came across this wonderful excerpt from a book. It said and I'm paraphrasing,' A person who drowns in 7 feet of water is just as dead as the one who drowns in 20 feet of water.'
Belittling someone's grief by giving them examples of how there are others suffering way more is a sure fire way of deepening their misery. Why would you tell someone who is already suffering that their suffering isn't even justified because other, completely unknown people are suffering too? Only you live in your head. You can sympathize, sure, but you can only feel your own feelings, only suffer your own suffering. 

Thursday, June 6, 2019

Breathe.


I think about writing.
I write, then I delete.
It feels like dirty laundry.
I want to scream.
I want to know why.
Some questions may never be answered.
Make your peace, they say.
Easier said than done.
Breathe, I tell myself.
Breathe and it will be okay.
Breathe. Put one foot ahead of the other. Breathe again.
It will be okay.
We’ll be okay.
I tell myself, make your peace.
What is gone may never come back.
Just breathe.
The air feels like poison.
It burns my lungs.
But breathe.
It will pass.
My spirit takes a beating.
I’m in a free fall.
But look up, always.
Look up.
Maybe we die.
But at least we die with stars in our eyes.
Maybe we fall.
But at least our spirits take flight.
Maybe we live.
Broken, bruised, bleeding.
But at least we live.
Another day we breathe.
The air is poison, but we breathe.
Our stories still go on.
Maybe we disappear.
But at least we were here.
Our voices were heard.
At least we had voices.
We had heartbeats.
Maybe no one listened.
But at least we had hearts.
Just breathe.

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

Things to forget

The warmth
Our interlaced fingers
Beautiful skin and unfortunate hair
Rosy cheeks and a heart laid bare
The sound of your heartbeat
The songs we sang well
The ones we butchered
Our spot at the park
Your warm breath on my skin
Your forehead kiss
Your crooked teeth
The lopsided smile
The gorgeous grin
Our secret meets
Our feeble attempts at dancing
My lipstick on your cheek
Our long walks
The longer drives


Your anger
Your promises
Your coldness
The darkness I waited for you in
The last time I heard your voice
The last time I saw you
The last time we held hands
The last time we hugged
The last time we walked together
The last time you said you loved me.





Monday, January 14, 2019

The Indian Arranged Marriage Scene

She will leave her job.
She will find one close to your place.
She will learn your language.
She will wear what you want her to wear.
She will eat what you want her to eat.
You be pleasant.
You need to lose weight.
You should learn how to cook.
You should wake up early.
Wear that, don't wear that and that and that.
Eat that, don't eat that and that and that.
Get home before he does.
Support him in what he wants to do.
Stop being messy, what will they say?
Please him, please them.
Don't work late.
Don't object.
Don't argue.
Don't protest.
Don't be difficult.
Don't be too smart.
Don't be too proud of yourself.
Don't complain.
Don't state your opinion.
Don't ask for more.
We know what is best for you.
You have no clue what you want.
It is not a big deal.
Bend, contort, change, adjust, pretend.
Toe their line.
You are so useless.
You don't know anything.
What will people think?
Look at her, learn from her.
Accommodate him. Accommodate them.
They're doing you a favor.
We have done a lot for you, be grateful.
Hide your anger.
Hide your pain.
Plaster on a smile.
One meeting is enough.
His degrees are good enough.
Them liking you is enough.
What you want is not important.
What will we tell the relatives?
Don't say you're unhappy.
Say yes.








FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU ALL!








Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Acceptance.

2019!

I have never been more glad at the end of a year. 2018 was the year everything went to shit. It only gave me excruciating pain, both physical and emotional. God knows I tried so hard. When something has to not happen, it doesn't happen, right? You scream, claw, smash your head on a wall (figuratively), pray, plead, beg and repeat in that particular order, endlessly, and still lose. I tried to hide from people who actually cared for me so they wouldn't see what I completely hopeless mess I had become. I spent the entire year in denial and then suddenly, one day I got over it. Maybe God took pity on me. Acceptance came suddenly but gently. It was almost like God whispering into my ears 'Enough'. Just like that, I reached my limit. I walked away. All the turmoil just evaporated. What happened? I am eternally grateful to whatever force made it possible but I really do want to know how it happened.

      I am still finding my feet. Some days are good, some very bad but I am healing. 2019 began on a great note. I'm hoping it is the stark opposite of its predecessor. That is all we can really do, right? Hope...

Sunday, December 3, 2017

I'm drowning. I don't want to be saved.  I want to get this over with. I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to be breathless anymore. 

Sunday, March 19, 2017

It's a scary time to be alive.