Tag Archives: friends

After

​Now that I’m ashes and bones, talk about me.

Tell everyone how I was your whole world and you loved me. Talk about the times I made you so happy you could die. Play my favorite songs and say how you never thought I’d leave. Hear them tell you the lies you wish to hear right now, how it’s not your fault and that you shouldn’t feel guilty. Let the people you hate comfort you in your time of need. Give the speech you wrote. Oh, say those words like you mean them. Like you really did love me. Like you never could live without me. Like you’ll miss me.

Flaunt the curve of your lips and hear the best applause you’ll ever get. Shed a tear or two, to make your words more believable as the people start to leave.

Go home and get as drunk as humanly possible on your fucking guilt. Place my ashes on the mantle so I’ll always be before your eyes. Write a letter to me with hands that can’t stand still and then burn it because that’s the only way I’ll ever know what you felt.

Cry and scream my name so hard you can never say anyone else’s name ever again. Oh, yes, beg me to come back to life. Fall on your knees in front of God and cry for mercy, like I did. Ask him to bring me back to you and feel him reject you, like I did. 

Lie to my God and tell Him you’ll change. Lie your fucking ass off, come one. Make your lies so convincing that you fool yourself. Lie, fucker, lie and scream so damn loud that The Devil shakes in hell.  Deny your crimes so hard that they almost turn true. 


Now you’re asleep and yet you can see me. You hear me and I’m so deep in your fucking head that you think you can smell the crook of my neck. You can reach for me, be so close and yet not enough to touch me. You understand me now, yeah. You can see it through me and you fucked me up. You can feel my pain and hear my pleas. That chill down the spine? Get used to it, because it’ll haunt you till the day you join me. 

I should know.

Your fate is that you’ll love me more than you ever did. You’ll miss me so hard it’ll burn through your gut. You’ll see me everywhere you go, in every conversation you ever have. In the pretty faces of those around you to every thought you ever have. I’ll be there.  To remind you what you did to someone who only ever loved you. 

But now that I’m dead, at least you love me.


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I’m sorry 

This whole self esteem issue is driving me insane. I don’t know how I let the words of a mean-ass bitch cut through my skin. It had taken me better part of the last two years to be comfortable within my own skin. Not just me, I used to urge people to do the same, too. I still do, but now I feel like a hypocrite. 

So I wrote this “thing” to just get it out of my head because I really can’t keep it in any longer, I’ll go crazier. 

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I’m not skinny like the other girls you like so much. I’m sorry I’m not as beautiful as your last one. I’m sorry you find me funny to look at. I’m sorry you had to put up with catfish after you’d had caviar. I’m sorry for not being fairer. I’m sorry for not having the perfect face. I’m sorry for my stretch marks over which I had no control. I’m sorry for my skin reacting the way it was evolved to. I’m sorry for my nose, and I’m sorry you had to look at it. I’m sorry for not having a symmetrical body so it’s appearance could please you more. I’m sorry my butt is spotted with cellulite. I’m sorry my breasts aren’t as identical as you’d like it to be. I’m sorry the sight of me makes you cringe. 

I’m sorry, even know it’s not my fault. 

I’m sorry for it all. 

*Picture by Sanjana Dawani. Seriously, stop what you’re doing right now and check out her page on Instagram. 

Cut off

I’ve been having a rough time lately.

Issues that I’d thought I’d resolved have come back up to haunt me all over again. My self esteem is at an all time low ever since a girl decided to rip me apart one by one. It’s not about validation. I don’t need some dudes telling me I’m pretty and what not. Flattery is not an answer to anything. But whatever, there’s no solution to that problem.

Then there’s another problem that has been bugging me. My education. What the fuck am I going to do about that, man? I can’t be a lawyer. I’ll be the worst lawyer this world has ever seen and I’m not even exaggerating. I’m someone who cries when someone yells at me, how the fuck do you expect me to face another attorney in a courtroom? Also, every single time I sit down to study Constitutional Law, it makes me want to throw up. There was this chance that I could transfer somewhere from the 5th semester but my stupid university cancelled all exams until further notice. If I want a transfer it’ll have to be in 3rd semester, setting me back by a year again. I can’t keep losing years like this or I’ll be 30 and still doing my graduation.  I don’t even the backup plan that every girl has; to get married. Because let’s be real, I’m not even proper human material, let alone wife material. I have no choice but to make something of myself and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to happen if I keep wasting years like they’re seconds. If you ask me what I’m good at? Well, nothing really. I can read and watch an absurd amount but that’s about the end of my intellectual prowess. So you see, I’m fucked in all places all at once.  To quote a friend, “I feel like I’ve taken more loads than Sasha Grey.”

I don’t even have the solace of feeling like this is Karma getting back at me. I’ve done my time. Karma has had its due. We’re even. My only saving grace is the hope that the world will end before all this happens. Or I’ll die somehow, if not then I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

I tried traveling but even that didn’t work. All it did was leave me bankrupt for the rest of the month and gave me tan lines so sharp they could kill. It wasn’t all bad, though. I mean, yeah, hanging out by the ocean drinking cold beer is fun. Watching cute boys in the water without shirts is more fun. Smoking pot with some of  and trying to speak Portuguese is priceless. But what’s the point of any of it when you’re hundreds of miles away but you’re still thinking all the same things? 

I don’t go out a lot, either. Because I had an epiphany while I was off getting sunburned. I didn’t take my phone because it’s fucking useless. I took another one to click pictures and support my recent addiction to Boomerang. I didn’t tell anyone I was going because whenever I speak about something I’m going to do, it doesn’t happen.  It was being somewhat off the radar that I realized that not everyone I think is my friend, is actually my friend. Yeah, I know a lot of people but they’re not my friends. I realized they only ever called me when they needed something.  I don’t need anything from anyone other than their company. It sucked to realize that more than half the people only ever called me or remembered me when they needed something, and that they don’t actually care about me. I’m done calling people my friend when they’re actually not. They’re just the people that I know. I don’t have a problem being there for someone when they need me or helping them out with something. But I just expect them to be there for me, too.  That’s it. When I’m there for you at 4 in the morning, the least you can do is not ignore my texts. I’m done letting people walk all over me. I’m nice but I’m not fucking stupid.  It’s not even exaggerated expectation because there are a few people who call me even when they don’t need anything.

Radhika calls me just to tell me a joke or she just comes over wherever I am to simply hang out. Diksha calls me to tell me what all she did that day from waking up to going to pee. To be honest, they’re the only family I have. I don’t think expecting someone to just be there for me is too much. So since they don’t give a fuck then even I’ve decided not to. Like I said, I’m nice but not stupid. 

Don’t even get me started on boys. I’m just done with that altogether. I have enough issues without adding “boy” trouble to that.

Then there’s my dumb body which can’t run itself properly. I take vitamins, I take protein and I eat so much all the time. I still don’t gain weight. My face has become so ashy grey that I think it’s going to crumble if I go out in the wind. I have zero stamina to speak of. Then there are my ovaries who can’t behave themselves. It’s so fucking frustrating not having my period for almost a year now. Back in January I thought something happened but it was like only 2 days. The reports come up normal so I don’t know why is this happening. Am I pregnant? Am I dying? What’s happening down there, God? It was never my plan to have kids but it wasn’t in my plan to grow a mustache, either. Then there’s sleeping. I’ve been having so bizarre dreams that you wouldn’t believe.  So bizarre and so vivid that I’m not sure if it actually happened or not. I was jumping off a rock and into an ocean in one (Which isn’t possible because I can’t fucking swim) and in one I was having dinner with a family that I don’t think remembers me anymore. Then I keep waking up every few hours. So I’m seriously depressed, really anxious, malnourished and sleep deprived all at once.

 It sucks being me right now.

So you see, I’ve had a depressing month and I don’t think it’s getting better anytime soon. 

No quitting. 

Yeah, this isn’t about “Not to give up on hope” kind of post. I gave up on hope a year ago.

This is about smoking. Let me take you back 2 years. I absolutely loathed smokers. I thought it was a nasty habit with absolutely no plus sides. I didn’t understand why anyone would want to inhale tobacco smoke. I’ve had major fights about this with people. I’ve done lame shit lime make people swear on my head that they’d never smoke again. If that were the case I would’ve been beheaded a thousand times. 

Now, I’m here typing this after smoking 5 of them myself. It started last new year. It was the first time I ever smoked and it was not pretty. My lungs burnt for 3 days. But then in May I smoked hash for the first time. It did absolutely nothing. It was a waste of money. But then I smoked another cigarette. That worked. 

I don’t admit this fact that I smoke. In fact not even a handful of  people know I do this. I’m kinda surprised my mom hasn’t found out yet. I don’t even chew a gum after I smoke. 

I’ve tried quitting but I don’t really have any reason to do so. I don’t want to live long. I’m not worried about some kind of cancer, either. It doesn’t even smell after 10 minutes so there goes my worry about smelling bad. Well, I will admit it is a little expensive, because I don’t work anymore. But I manage that part. 

I’ve been doing my best to lie as little as possible since almost two years now. But if asked about this, I’ll straight out deny it. I don’t care if they saw me firsthand smoking outside of The Nest (which is the only place where I smoke apart from my roof) I’ll deny it.

Most of all, I’m allowed to have bad habit. At least I’m not snorting cocaine before my morning coffee. I can have one guilty indulgence. 

So anyone who called me a hypocrite, you were right.

Congratulations.

You can go suck it.

If not, then?

Tell me how to get rid of you
Tell me how to forget you
Tell me how to erase your touch
Tell me how to forget your face
Tell me how to stop hearing your voice
Tell me how to stop smelling your skin
If not, then tell me you’ll love me again.

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Be cruel to me
Be a fool for me
Be my villain and then my hero
Be my pillar and my earthquake
Be my one and only, then make room for the next
Be my everything and leave me with nothing
Be my exposure and be my cover
Be my destruction and my lover
If not, then just tell me you’ll love me again

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Look at us, bent to the point of breaking
Look at us, strangers with memories
Look at us, barely even alive
Look at us, in our own mess we’re drowning
Look at us now,
And look at us before.
Tell me now, can you love me again?
If not, then….

Not enough

Stripped to the bone,
because skin wasn’t enough.
Look into my soul,
because heart isn’t enough.
I’ll do what you need
and say all the right things.
Still, to explain myself,
words aren’t enough.
I wish it were a game,
at least one of us would’ve won,
but I guess to fate, one looser wasn’t enough.
You did forgive me,
but I guess to me, once wasn’t enough.
I did love you, you know
but I guess to you, words weren’t enough.
They say love is all we need,
but to keep us alive,
love wasn’t enough.
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* Pictures by Sanjana Dawani, and kudos to her for her new #nucollection. Visit her page on Facebook, Twitter, Flickr or instagram 🙂

State of mind

I was reading my previous posts. I’m really embarrassed by some of them but I don’t remove them because that’s the person I was when I wrote them.
I don’t miss that person, but I don’t want to forget her either.
I’ve noticed on thing… And it’s that happiness, it’s not a place. You don’t have to go anywhere to be happy. You don’t have to wait for it to come.
It’s just something you are… When were content with our surroundings.
One moment were happy and the other we’re pissed. One day we’re half in love with that person and two days later…we can’t even stand them. That’s just our mind.
Happiness is nothing but a trick our mind plays on us, just like sadness and grief and whatever.
I was happy two days back, and today I wasn’t. It’s going to happen again. One day I’ll be crying buckets and the next I’ll laugh like a freaking bear.
Life’s a mess one day and within a few hours we have hope. We’re lonely one day and surrounded by love the other.
Let’s talk about that really amazing guy who’s an asshole…I couldn’t get enough of talking to him few days ago…and then I was like “do you ever just not talk??!”
He’s really started to piss me off… I couldn’t even imagine another hour of his self praise and telling me what I can’t and can’t do… Just shut the fuck up, already!
Then again…the cycle rotated and today I’m backing him up again.
The point is that we can’t be a single person all the time. We can’t expect people to react the same either. I mean if he makes me wanna pull my hair out at times, then damn it, he must have the same reaction to me at times.
That’s just how it is. But we cope up with each other because we know that we have only a few people who actually understand us,and neither of us wants to reduce the number by one.
You guys, I really wanted to post our pics making funny faces when we went to McD … But the plan got delayed and now we’ll go out again on Saturday so…hopefully I’ll look.presentable in them.
So…for now, stay happy 🙂

Panic, you say?

A lot of things have happened over the last couple of days. I’ve given three college entrance tests and have no hope of getting into any one of them. You see, I appeared for CLAT (Common Law Aptitude Test), SET (Symbiosis Entrance Test), Christ University Entrance Exam, and my next one IIM-IPM is due on 15th May, and the University of my city, DAVV’s (Devi Ahilya Vishwa Vidhyalaya) CET (Common Entrance Test) is due on 29th.

I’ve been grinded by classes, then baked in this Malva Heat and roasted by the pressure at home. And trust me when I say this, these things aren’t even the reason why I’m mad.

I’m mad because everyone around me seems to think this is the end. That if they don’t get a good college, their life will collapse. They think their whole life depends on these exams. You can’t even explain to them why it’s not the end of the world. They charge on you and you can’t win against a class full of  IIM aspirants who have appeared for IIT and didn’t get in. You don’t want to get into a fight with wannabe IITians. They play dirty, and you’ll lose.

What they don’t get is that if they get into a good college, their life will, no doubt, improve. But if they don’t get in, it’s not going to deteriorate. They will return to their normal selves and settle with what they get, just like they always have been.

17 or 18 is not the age that decide the next seventy years of your life. Right now, I can bet everything I have (which is next to nothing but please, concentrate on my feels here) that 90% of those kids have no idea what they want with life. Right now, IIM and Law Schools seems very exotic and the yearly packages are what most of them are after.

Fine, then let’s look at it form their perspective. I’m not so keen on getting into the corporate world for the following reasons.

Suppose, I get into IIM this year. I get out after five years with an MBA diploma, that gets me an average package of 1,900,000 INR per year. (This is the approximate value, last years’s highest package was as high as 4,500,000 INR). A leading corporate firm hires me, and the next thing I know, I’m working 80-100 hours in a week. I’ve sold my passion, the thing that helped me survive, in exchange for something as cheap as money. Eventually, after 10-20 years, I’ll get sick of it. I’ll have money, no doubt. And yes, It’s easier to cry in an Audi than to cry on a scooter. But I’ll be crying, irrespective of what I’m crying on. My dream to travel places will have brunt to ashes because I can’t get the time. I won’t have time for thinking, let alone writing.

How is it any different than selling your soul due to greed? But then again, this is what I think.

A lot of my classmates ask me why I’m not panicking that the exams are only a few days away. I don’t have an answer to that. I just don’t panic. I don’t think exams are something to panic about. Yes, I was worried about my Boards, but after the first exam, I knew where I stood and it really wasn’t any different than giving any other exam.

And moreover, I don’t have that urge to get into IIM or any other fancy college. Honestly, the only reason I’m giving these exams is to provide satisfaction to my parents that I did try. If I get in, well and good. If I don’t, then we’ll see.

That’s my answer to everything. We’ll see.

I don’t panic, it’s kind of my thing. Sometimes, I even laugh when I’m in crisis or standing in front of the Vice Principle’s cabin. Of course if I was told to do something on gunpoint, then yes, of course I’d panic. I’m not a freaking saint. I’ll panic the hell out of myself, when the situation is worth giving myself that mini hearth attack.

Right now, I just don’t think that giving myself a panic attack is worth it. I mean, yeah, getting into a good college certainly will change my life, and help me a lot, but I just don’t get the point. I don’t want to work in big fancy corporate companies. 

Anyways, it’s okay not to get into big colleges. It’s okay to fail in those entrance tests. I mean, seriously, It’s so bloody okay.

It’s not the end of the world.

Letting off the steam…(Rambling)

More often than not, my head is like a war zone. There is World War III going on inside. I try hard to keep the damaged thoughts and memories away.   I’m okay for a few weeks, then this thing starts to eat me from within again. It’s like a viscous cycle. It goes away for a while, then it comes back again. Every time it comes back, it’s harder than the last time.

I can’t afford to be ‘not okay’ right now. I’ve got exams going on, and in the last four exams, I have no idea what I’ve written. Pain medication and Cough&Cold medicines are making me insane. I’m high most of the time due to these and it’s making me crazy. My depression chose a really bad time to start surfacing. It’s my last year in school and I cannot, in any situation possible, screw it up. I’m working as hard as I can. I’m sleeping three hours a night for the last two weeks. I’m studying as hard as I can. I study till 1:00 in the morning, then I wake up again at 4:00 to pick up where I left off. I watch TV for two hours a day, four half-hour shows a day. On weekends, I watch a movie at 10:00 which drags on till midnight, give or take on hour. I don’t go outside to take a walk. I don’t listen to music anymore. I can’t bear it actually. I study, eat, watch TV and sleep for three hours. That’s all I do. Oh, yes, and one hour of blogging every other day.

I know the answers of the questions. I know what the Diminishing Marginal Utility is. I know the relationship between Price and Demand. I know what Elasticity of Demand is. I know what a deficit in the union budget is. I know how trades are settled in NSE Nifty and BSE Sensex. I know what NSCCL and NSDL do. I know what a broker is supposed to do and what he’s not. I know what Fayol’s laws are. I know how an agent is supposed to behave at his job. I know who wrote the poem Ars Poetica (And decided to contradict everything he’s written). I know these things! I know bloody every single one of them. I know everything that matters.

When I’m handed my question paper, it’s as if someone has put me on Flight mode. I start seeing two where I should see one. If I don’t take my pain medication, my back-ache kills the crap out of me. If I don’t take cold medicines, I’m left to choose between wiping my nose all the time or actually writing the answers. I write everything that I’m capable of at that moment and then put my head down to sleep, until those three tormenting hours of examination are over. Every morning, I wake up with my head throbbing out of my skull. It hurts constantly. So often, that I notice the difference when it’s not there. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know how to get out of this hole. I want to. I really, really want to, but instead, I end up getting sucked deeper.

The worst part is to go through it all alone. No one in my family knows about my depression. It’s surprising, isn’t it? They can’t know. If I tell them, they’ll think that I’m just hungry for attention. They are those typical Indians who think that if you’re going to a shrink, you’re downright insane. You belong in an asylum, not in a school.

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I thought I could do it alone, you know. I thought that it couldn’t be THAT hard. I mean, being depressed is being sad, right? Being around people might change that. Then, instead of being sad, I could just hate them. For me, that’s a whole lot better than being sad. Again, I chose the wrong people. I did the wrong things and by the time I realized it, it was too late. Like they say, the damage had already been done. It’s not just hard for me to go through this all alone. It’s like-taking. No one knows what’s wrong with me. I can’t tell them. My mother has her own pile of stuff to deal with. I can’t unload this on her. She’s got two bedridden parents. The last thing she needs is an errant daughter. My dad? Yeah, right. It’s a miracle he remembers that I exist. And bad news just keeps happening around me. Trouble is obsessed with me, don’t you know?

This is so much, oh-so much harder than I expected it to be. I did things I’m not proud of. I did things which I’m tempted to do again, but I don’t because I know that it’s a step too far. I don’t remember what it’s like to have a real conversation anymore. I haven’t had one in the last month. Who am I supposed to talk to? My new dog? My ten-year-old brother who’s always playing? Sometimes, I get so lonely that I just start talking to my laptop or copy or even my toothbrush! I realize that me talking to them is not a problem. A problem is when they start talking back. I’m so isolated, stuck in my ivory tower like a hermit, alienated, and what the hell not? I don’t like other people, but I know that I need them to survive. I’m one of the seven billion  homo-sapiens, a primate. I require company. I can’t help it! Evolution made me this way!

Its not always bad, you know. I recently went to a hill-station near my city on a school trip for a weekend. It was awesome! I had so much fun. I danced like crazy along with my other friends. The problem is, they are the kind of people who have fun almost all the time. They can make you smile at a funeral, and that’s a very good thing. The problem is that I need a deeper connection with someone. I’m way too deep for a healthy normal teenager. I smile on the outer surface. I make the funniest jokes. On the outside, I’m a radiant personality. I’m living a lie. I’m telling thousands of lies everyday, just to get by that day. One day at a time, that’s how I’m surviving. I put on happy face, so that people don’t ask me why I’m sad. I keep it all within me because I’m scared that if I tell everything to someone, they’ll know my weakness. They’ll know that I’m vulnerable and not half as strong as I appear to be. 

Is it wrong to be scared? Is it wrong to think that I do need someone to talk to. Someone who gets me, someone who just won’t ever judge me. Is it too much to ask? One billion people living in India and no one can understand me? What am I, an alien? I’m tired of living a lie and telling them. It’s exhausting to be two people at once, and yet not be myself. 

 

The irony is not lost on me…

Being an introvert, I don’t usually initiate a conversation with anybody. I prefer to stay in my own bubble of thoughts, even if they’re not good. I’m way comfortable in my own skin. I don’t care what people think of me personally, but I am forced to think that how people will think of my family. Everything my name could bear has been damaged by my father. I can’t afford it to deteriorate any further. So, its upon me to carry out the dignity of my name, at least till the time I’m living in Indore.

Because I’m ‘The girl who can do no wrong’, I’m forced to go to different occasions and events and what not. When I’m there, I find a quite place. Maybe at the back of the stage, the corner-most table or the balcony. There, I just sit and hope that no one will disturb me. Well, of course they do. Sometimes I hear people’s most intimate conversations, which I wish I could un-hear. Sometimes, i see someone crying, trying to maintain their composure, at least until the event is over. Sometimes, people just ramble on their own, leaving me disgusted by their gory details. The mot surprising thing is, that they don’t even see me sitting there. I mean seriously, you have to be blind to not see a person as gigantic as me. I’m seriously tall for my age and impossible not to notice.

And sometimes when people do see me, they sit next to me and then start sharing their feelings with me. When they start talking without any warning, I think, “Is it written on my face that I want to talk to you? Do I give the vibes that I’m slightest bit interested in whats going on with you?”

When I person is unloading their heart on front of me, I can’t say the above things. I can’t just stand up and leave. I can’t start talking about my own crap instead. I listen to them because in that moment I realize that I’m not alone. I put my pain aside and listen to the person because that person has had it in him since god-knows-how-long. They have had that thing eating them from inside and today, they’re finally getting the chance to let it all out. I listen because I’ve been where they’re at. For some bizarre reason, I understand them. I get each and everything they’re trying to say to me. I mean, yes, at times I do feel like shutting a girl up when she’s whining about a pair of shoes she couldn’t find in her size, but I let her talk because I don’t know what those shoes meant to her. Maybe they were symbolic in some ways she doesn’t even know. Maybe she’s just shallow, but I don’t know for sure, so I let her talk and I listen. While they’re talking, I envy them. If only I had someone I could talk to. If only I knew how to talk to strangers. If I had talked to someone before all this crap in my life started happening, then maybe I wouldn’t be so broken. Maybe I wouldn’t be a hundred shades of messed up. Maybe I’d be happier. I don’t talk about my feeling very often. I write them down or post them here. 

There are people who dare to share the most personal things with a stranger. Maybe because they feel like the stranger won’t judge them, and maybe they’ll never see each other again. In my case, that’s not true. I mostly see the people who share with me every day. Either they’re in my school or they live near me. And that’s fine with me. I don’t go and ask them again if the thing they were worried about is solved. It’ll just make them feel awkward. Instead, I just smile at them and let them know that their secret is safe with me.

It also gives a certain amount of pressure when they tell me that they’re doing something which they SHOULD NOT be doing. At that time, I’m in dilemma. Should I go tell their parents? Should I give them advice? Am I the right person to give the advice? I don’t say anything to them. I just listen, and I guess my silence tells them that they need hep. They need help beyond the kind which I can give them. They understand and then ask about my life. I smile in my head and say, “Nothing much to say, you know. My life is pretty boring.” They smile at me and they know that they’re not getting a word out of me. They don’t force me and I’m grateful for it.

The thought that I’m the reason they’re feeling better is the one thing that helps me sleep at night. I’m happy that they got this off their chest and now, they’re going to do whats best for them, and I had a part in it!