Explanation... Maybe

There is a reason I feel the way I do

A reason why my faith falters

A reason why I am so scared

And the reason is you...

It's not your fault

This is new

The feeling, the fear

Everything to do with you

I want to believe that this is mine

I want to believe that my time is here

But two steps forward

And the fear creeps near

Is this my imagination?

Is this an illusion?

Everything seems right

But the questions tend to fright

I am trying so hard

To believe in happiness

I am trying so hard

To let go

You make it easy

You should know

But the road is still slightly dark

And I am still scared to move

So when I am brash or seem insensitive

It is probably just my defense

It is probably just a farce

You mean the world

I just can't say it right.

Whom do you Listen to?

The little voice in your head,
Or the one that rules your soul.
The person you have known for 15 years,
Or whom you met a week ago.
The world at large,
or the parallel universe which you think you belong to.

And why does it have to be one or the other?
Why not a lil of that n a lil of this?
Why do things need to be complicated?

Because we make it so
Because we lack basic comprehension
Because we thrive on misunderstandings
Because we like to believe that we are right
And that the world is out to get us.

No one has the time for you and your silly assumptions
We are all trying and fighting to be the protagonists of our own life
Let us be, and let yourself be
Let calmness engulf you
if not waters of peace

There is nothing much you can do
Nor can you punish yourself
Just let go and live

For the Want of a...

For the past year or so and even right about this second, I have been debating with the question of what I want to do with my life. Frankly, I am nowhere near the answer. I guess it comes from a problem of having options. Have you ever thought how easy life would have been if someone else planned it for you? I mean sure you would be unhappy but no decisions to make, for a while that would be quite awesome. Or would it? Actually no. The decisions you make, make you the person you are. It makes you stronger and tougher. 'Coz when you take that wrong decision, you can only turn around and blame yourself. Today I needed to make a choice - between being seemingly aimless and being happy, and doing a job that will make me maybe 10% happy. The decision I took is the correct one for me because I know that for me more than anything else happiness matters. Everything else, I believe, will work itself out. This belief is not out of a want for confidence in myself. It is because it is. Ten years from now, I do not want to turn around and berate myself about something I didn't do. I want to think that I tried. If after that I fail, I'll deal with it.

Am I showing signs of maturity? I think I am. Maybe right now no one understands this decision. I don't expect them to. All that nonsense about being in another person's shoes. Well you can never be; the shoe will never fit. Don't expect it to. All you can expect is support from the ones you love and that I have. I knew I had a lot of people in my life who loved me but today I realized how unconditional it was. So thanks to all of those people. You know who you are.

A Change

It's been a while since I started this blog which was supposed to be an outlet for me to write about anything and everything; something like a cheap alternative to therapy with some shrink (no offense meant). But I think it is time for a change. One, because everyone who reads this blog and any of my other writings keeps mentioning how it is depressive, and while that is my state of mind generally, I need more positivity. Second, if I intend to be a serious writer, it needs to go beyond rants and musings, which seem to dominate my blog. So, this I think is going to be a call for change. I started with changing the look of my blog (which till now has been dominated by black). Adding a dash of color seems to have given it more personality. Or so I would like to believe. Hopefully this frame of mind will last. It needs to. For my sanity. Pray for me.

A Rant...

A crumpled, used tissue paper that is not even thrown into the trash but left on the muddied street to be kicked around and stomped on. Would it scream in agony and howl in pain? Would it cry rape and harp on the indignity that it has been served with? Human beings, thanks to overgrown brains, laziness and an involuntary habit of being self-sympathetic tend to cry hoarse every time they have to deal with things that do not go according to their previously determined plan. WE cry about being single, being in a lousy relationship, being in a job, being out of a job, anything and everything is worth a crib. After all it is what keeps us going. I frankly agree that I am one of those individuals who thrives on misery and depression. I will always look at the wrong things about a situation. Always whine about what I do not have and lately, I have even stopped trying to do something that will keep me away from pessimism for the time being. Though it does not seem that way, I am really not the bad sort just manic depressive and hungry for attention without the capability of getting the attention. So I do what I do best. Be morose, quiet and sulk. That is my tactic to gain attention. It hardly ever works. All I get are adjectives like bitchy and egoistic. I cannot be chirpy. It is unbecoming of me. I can be me but i guess that will never be good enough.

Missing Somethings...Some People

This goes out to all my favorite people in the whole world. All those who mean the world and more to me. All those beautiful ones who have withstood my numerous tantrums, mood swings, tears, anger and all of that. I miss you. All of you.

To you for having given up on one friend because you thought he treated me like c$#p. For saying so even when I did not believe it myself. For becoming my best friend in record time.

To you for being the only one from seven years ago who I can still say anything to without thinking that you have changed. For being the one closest to being adopted by my family.

To you for being my closest friend for half of my life.

To you for being the only one I can call up and cry to, even today.

To you for being the child I will never need to have and the only one I can truly let go with.

To you for being my maturity check on most occasions despite being younger than me.

To you for being the one who misses me when the others forget to tell me about a girls night out.

To you for being the other child I never have to have but also my mother if the occasion demands. Also for being the one that unleashed the shopping fanatic in me.

To you for being the other half in our mutual admiration society. We love each other and we know it.

To you for being that one person who is okay with who you are.

To you for mailing me to tell me that you miss me just when I feel that everyone has forgotten me.

To all of you, thanks. On most days it drives me crazy to know that you guys are in one city and I am in another but then it keeps me sane, knowing that you guys are just a phone call away.

:-*

An Existence Parallel

Before I could accept the reality in my own life, my parallel identity had announced it to the world. I have no idea why...Did this person value my need for privacy? Far from it...She decided to engage in a dialogue with other people who seemed familiar from the real world but not really. People who I did not feel comfortable telling details about my personal life but nonetheless was sharing details like who I was infatuated with and whom I wanted to be with. Things like I was bored right now and that I had left paradise far behind. This person seemed more at ease with the person she was then I ever can be. She does not seem like she is searching for an identity. She has a confidence that I envy, a personality that I show just glimpses of but she is not much different from in many ways. Same hair, same eyes, even the same black spot on the upper lip. She is me. I am her. A reflection of each other, with such diverse, varied interests that take off from the same place but seem to find their own place in the universes they reside in. Sometimes it scares me, that my virtual self is more of a person then I am, that she seems to be more friendly than I am but then I guess every pitfall has those ropes handed down to climb out of it. I can almost see the ends of the rope that I have being lowered into my personal form of ditch. Maybe it is not the end after all. There are other pits and more ropes...

Questions and Answers...Maybe

There are days and then some more. Days when you fell like you can take on the world and everything yet unidentified. Then there are other days, when you fell miserable and alone. Every quality of yours becomes a shortcoming. Every fault is magnified. Every disappointment seems writ large on people's faces. Every victory becomes small. Everything you do, insufficient. Every word you articulate falls short. Every sentence you type becomes redundant. Every syllable simplistic. Every pen stroke becomes a burden, a weight difficult to bear, your personal Sisyphus like punishment. Every blob of paint, a defacement.

Those are the days when loneliness comes to bite you, maul you and devour every single tissue in your body, like a leopard that has been starved for months. Your non-existent gladiator skills obviously fail you, even survival instincts get lost in the temporary amnesia, that seems to be a recurrent disorder. A child like helplessness overwhelms you. The path ahead seems unsure. And when you raise your hand searching for that reassuring grip, you realize the gravity of being alone and the fear that grabs you as the darkness threatens to eat you up.

The light does seem to stream in and then your senses starts failing you. When once you started out with six senses (including the fabled sense of intuition), you refused to use them. When today you plead for the use of the same, they elude you. And thus the light is invisible, the frame of black hiding everything beyond.

Out of these discrepancies that seem to haunt you, there come several questions. Is it okay to dislike yourself? Is it alright to feel inadequate about yourself while being frighteningly aware about the qualities you have? Is it normal to have a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you feel like there is a deep hole in your life, something that has literally been snatched away from you?

Happiness can only come from within. Clichéd but true. How many times have you felt like someone is squeezing your innards to cause pain which you thought was impossible to experience? After all the only reason for false hope is the existence of hope.

So Little Time...So Much To Do

The first thought that comes to my mind as I sit down to write this is that I can't believe I am actually writing blog entries on two consecutive days. If you know me, you would know that my best skill is my ability to procrastinate and make excuses. But then I am digressing and my laziness is not the subject of this little piece. Firstly a very Happy New Year to all my faithful readers (the number as of now is stalled at 3).

2010 is going to be awesome because I have decided that it is. It just has to be. And it is going to be a year for me to finally stick to the infinite number of resolutions that I have made, and not stuck to, in the past so many years. After all I will turn 25 (scary number) in 2011 and there are too many things to do before that. In my very artistic way of expressing myself, my latest doodling masterpiece is a colorful hypnotic spiral design which resembles the mathematical Fermat's spiral. It is nowhere close to being the Sistine Chapel but I like it. More so because it has all the things I want to do in the next one year, in different scripts. Like write everyday, take a long overdue vacation with my best friend, paint my shoes, become super-hot, transfer my bed to Landmarks, paint etc, etc, etc.

The list is really long and circumvoluted but even better really hypnotic and I love it. So go ahead and wish me luck or better still if you have more favor with the powers above than me, pray. After all giving (in this case praying for me) is more fulfilling than receiving. Don't you agree?

;-*