Tag Archives: teenagers

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. 

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Mean

It’s been twenty years since I’ve come into this world. Sadly, I’ve been sensible for only the past two. Even when my actions made no sense, I don’t think I was ever someone who judged someone based on how they looked. I wasn’t that type of an asshole. Mainly because who the fuck am I to call anyone ugly or fat or whatever when I’m the same?

So when someone who knows absolutely nothing about me, started to talk shit about how I look and the way my body is, I lost it. It’s not like I haven’t heard how weird I look before. I agree with everything people say. My nose is weird. My skin is abysmal. My hair is worse. I KNOW. I know everything that is wrong with me but why the fuck do you need to repeat it over and over again? Even that’s fine when it’s all just a joke and everyone is making fun of everyone. It’s the comparison that hurts me. Specifically to someone who just brings out all my insecurities. 

There was this girl who just started talking shit about me. Mind you, this girl knew me for about twenty four hours. Then she started comparing me to another girl, whose name literally makes my heart drop to my stomach in an instant. First it was all a jest and even I was laughing but then she said something like: “God bless the man who has to see your face the first thing in the morning” and “That girl makes Niddhi look like a pig next to her” and I fucking cried. I mean this man she’s talking about doesn’t exist in my life yet.  It might’ve been a joke to her. That girl that she’s comparing me with isn’t even in my life anymore. And moreover, I know I look a little bit like a piggy.

But why hit right where it hurts? I mean I don’t go digging around other people’s insecurities then why the fuck are you doing this to me, man? Why are you being mean to me when I have done absolutely nothing to invite that kind of behavior? Why are you comparing me to someone in front of whom I will never have the genetic advantage? It’s not my fault I look the way I do. They didn’t ask my when my chromosomes were pairing up. They didn’t ask me what levels of melanin would I prefer on my skin. They didn’t ask me what kind of hair would I like. I was MADE this way. 

I even know that a dude will never ever choose me if his decision is solely based on the way I look. (To be completely honest, even if you put my personality in the mix, it wouldn’t help. Because who wants to listen to my dark humored puns and several fandoms all the time?) I know everything a person can hold against me. I’m everything a person doesn’t want in a human body.  How the fuck is it my fault that my skin is the dark or that my hair can’t behave itself. 

Why do we have to belittle someone just for the sake of being mean? I don’t understand what joy do people get in making someone feel so small and so bad? Why can’t we let people be?

There’s nothing funny or fun about bullying someone. It sucks, trust me. It makes you question everything from the way you look to the way you talk to the way you feel.

Please, just be a decent human being and don’t make fun of someone just for the sake of having a good time. All it does it create more mental issues. I don’t need more things to worry about, I have way more than enough. I don’t have relief in any aspect of my life. Why did you need to fuck it up even more?

So, please, for the love of all that you hold dear, do not make fun of someone’s insecurities.

It’s time

You deserve more

It’s a terrifying thing to loose touch with the one thing you want, I know. But sometimes it’s better to focus on growing rather than doing the same thing again and again that brings your progress down to square one. 

You deserve normalcy. 

You deserve all the cheesy things that you think are lame. 

You deserve more than what you’re getting and I hope you stand up for it.

It’s about time. 

It’s a rant

I’m suicidal.

Apparently there’s something wrong with that. But let’s be honest, who isn’t?  Who hasn’t at least once thought about ending their lives? Everyone is suicidal at some level or the other, I just happen to be at the pro version.

I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t like having to explain why I’m in a place where the future doesn’t exist for me. I don’t like to talk about coping mechanisms that I’ve adopted. This whole dying thing, I don’t talk about to anyone.

Believe it or not, a pot dealer gave me some great advice. Now that I think about it, he’s a pretty nice guy. So he told me that it’s better to write these feelings down. Not because they’ll help, but because after you die and people find these logs, they’ll feel awful for the rest of their lives. I like the sound of that. Not everyone, obviously. Just the ones who have driven me to the point of dying. Ironically, they’re the ones who are also responsible for me being alive.

Another idiot told me that if I go through with this, I should think about how bad my family will feel. Well, they better feel pretty damn bad. It’ll change them forever? Thank goodness. I don’t want my life to end in vain. I hold no love for my family. It died the day they told me that I had to become a lawyer, even if it took 10 years or even if it killed me. If you think I’m a monster for not loving my own mother then go ahead. I’m the worst creature to ever walk the Earth. If I had a kid who was already dying out of anxiety and stress, I wouldn’t drop the pressure on them to become something that they don’t want. I’ve had tough love my whole life. I’ll admit, it made me tough. But I’m no longer that strong. For once I’d like to be loved as a child should.

The worst part is, they know what I do. They know that I sliced my wrists open. They know I bled for a long, long time. They know that the reason I want to die. They know everything. Yet no one came to me to ask why were there bloodied clothes in the garbage. No one asked me why there were gashes on my wrists. No one asked, so I told no one. So when I die, I do want then to feel bad. Maybe they won’t do the same thing to my brother. Maybe he’ll benefit the most from my death.

I really thought that would be the day I’d end it. It didn’t take courage. All it took was a blade. I had a letter written out. Actually, three. One for my family. One for Diksha and one for Radhika. In them I wrote who gets my stuff.( For the record, no one gets my Louboutins. They go with me.)

It wasn’t God’s plan to make me die. I mean after an hour or so of bleeding you’d think the 5litres would run out. But apparently not. Fuck it, I didn’t even get dizzy. I only cried because on my laptop Netflix was playing S5 finale of Supernatural and it was a pretty sad scene. My poor Winchesters babies. (Yes, even when I thought I was dying it was Supernatural I was thinking about. Fuck you, too)

Needless to say, I didn’t die that day. I made a hell of a mess but I didn’t stop breathing. I’m still fucking alive, obviously.

Fuck, I didn’t mean to sound like someone who’s pathetic and needs help. I can still hold my own, thank you very much. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to listen to pot dealers, after all.

And I swear to The Hol Trinity that if someone tells me “You’re just 20 years old, you still have prospects,” or “You’re a kid and this is just a tantrum and you know nothing of real pain” I’ll throw a pan in their stupid face and then they’ll know what real pain is. Just because other people have it worse than me doesn’t mean I’m not relevant. I know everyone’s suffering. I know everyone feels like this. But I’m not everyone. I’m running on fumes here. If other people still have fires left, it’s because they’re made of stronger stuff than I am. Do not start preaching to me otherwise I’ll pull your guts out through your throat. (Fandom references all over.)

I’m still kinda sorta fine, because I have no other choice. I’m done trying to die because, I tried and it didn’t work. It’s not God’s will to put me out of my suffering just yet. My will wasn’t to make it to December 2016. But again, I’m just a human.

Maybe my lack of affection towards people is the reason I want to die. I mean I’m not completely out of touch with my human side. I still care about my family. I do what they say. I have friends. I help anyone who asks. I hold no grudges. I don’t hate anyone. But I don’t actually love anyone either. I don’t think I have it in me anymore to love another person. Be it my own blood or otherwise.

As for my coping mechanisms, it’s dark humour, cigarettes and Netflix. That’s it. I’m running on Internet and Smoke.

If there’s a light at the end if the tunnel, I don’t see it yet. And until I do, I’m not about to change a thing.

God, why?

See I don’t usually do this thing that I did, so know that when I did this, I put a lot of thought into it. 

I’m 20 years old, I’m not a kid or some poor naive girl someone took advantage of. No. I did this completely on my own, after putting days of thought into it. 

I did something that I can’t believe I did.

I kissed someone who I didn’t know very well at all. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done in my life. It sucked ass. It was horrible and all the while I was just concentrating on not throwing up. 

It was the first time in my life I went on a legit date, the kind I’ve only read about. The dude was nice and basically Adonis come again. I mean I didn’t have any high expectations, but I didn’t expect it to be disgusting. I’ve had my “fireworks” and I know it won’t happen again, but I could at least expect it to not suck. 

The worst part is that the there was nothing wrong with the guy himself. He didn’t do anything wrong. My stupid mind fucked everything up. 

I thought I was ready to do this crap again. I thought I’d made ny peace with everything but apparently not. I am far from ready to move on. Really far. Like million miles away kind of far. 

It was so embarrassing on so many levels. I had to get out of there and it was basically the most humiliated I’ve ever been. Why, Jesus, why?! 

I really don’t know how long I can keep this up. There has to come a point when I have to stop being pathetic. I don’t like being alone, okay? I don’t want to be one if those women who lead a loveless life and die with dogs. I don’t need anyone but I don’t do so well one. 

Maybe I’ll try again later. After scrubbing myself with Holy Water, that is. 

Never 

// Just a little out of reach, that’s where you are. I can see you but not touch you. I can breathe you but I can’t feel you. I love you yet I can’t tell you. You’re mine but I can’t have you. 

They say don’t let your happiness depend on one person. They’re so fucking wrong. My life starts and ends with you. You are my happiness and my grief. You are my pleasure and my pain. I’m grateful that you’re all I have, even if I don’t have you. 

But God forbid if we should both have what we want. God forbid, if we once don’t listen to reason. Still, let’s sin as much as we can, let’s defy fate, because you are my God. You are whom I pray to. Let’s find parts of each other we didn’t know existed. I’d rather be demolished by you than be rebuilt by someone else. You’re what holds me together. It’s only fitting you be what destroys me. 

It isn’t real, life keeps reminding me. Over and over again I fall for something that’s not even real and over and over again I’m hooked deeper than before. 



If you’re what weakness feels like, then I don’t ever want to be strong again. //




Cruel trick of mind: 2

​I’ve had my share of bizarre dreams, okay? It seldom ever happens that something which my mind dreamt has left me distraught for days without an end. The first time it ever happened was in 2013. I dreamt that my grandfather is back to life. He even had a scientific explanation for it. Christ, did that dream hurt like a bitch when I woke up.

This time, I had the best conversation of my life. I swear to almighty God, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to make that be real. It was just so simple. We were talking on the phone, being balls-out honest, and I said everything I had bottled up in me for the past year. 

It was just so real. I’m usually aware that I’m dreaming. I’m in the dream but I know it’s all over the minute I open my eyes. Not this time, though. You know how when you’re talking on the phone there are several little disturbances like someone calling your name, or a text message alert…even that was on point. 

Then what hurts most is the voice. I’d never heard something so clear in my life. It was like I could touch it if I wanted to, and I really, really wanted to. As pathetic as it sounds, a conversation that only happened in my mind is enough to drive me for months.

Imagine my devastation when I woke up. More than that, imagine how pissed I was at myself, because I’ve spent a major part of the past year trying not to think about that particular thing. I’ve done everything, I mean everything one can do to get over such things. From psychological books to Cosmo magazine; I’ve done it all. It wasn’t even on my mind the night before this godforsaken dream appeared. 

It’s like all my progress has been brought back to square one. All I want to do is roll up in a ball and never get out of my bed.

Bottom line? I had the best conversation of my life, in my dreams, with a man I can’t call anymore. It sucks ass.

*Picture by Sanjana Dawani. Check out her pages on Facebook and Instagram 

Disintegration

(This is long and boring and just urgh. So feel free to skip this one)

This past month has been so, so bad that I don’t even know how I’m even alive to write this. It’s not for the lack of trying, but we won’t go there today.

Stress and anxiety will kill you.

I’m not quoting some medical journal, these are my own observations. I had dealt with depression and mania in the past but this…this is different. I do everything right. I eat right, I do yoga, I dance, and my sleeping schedule is also decent. There was a time when I couldn’t fall asleep before 3:00 am, and now I can barely keep my eyes open till midnight. At any point of time, unless I have plans, I’m always asleep. I still make plans to go out in the hope that maybe my monotony is what ails me. I still do my make up and go around as if there is nothing that bothers me. I have only talked to two friends about it. I’m a little off topic. Yes, so the thing is that I know depression. I understand it. Being lethally depressed is kind of my comfort zone when compared to anxiety.

Anyway, the first thing to make me realize that there was something seriously wrong with me was when I went temporarily blind in my right eye after I woke up one morning. (I know, right?) I thought it was an allergic reaction because I tight line my upper-lash line or because I wore mascara a lot. I even had half a mind to sue Urban Decay. The doctor had a different opinion. After my vision came back in about 6 hours,  the doctor told me to get some tests done to check my vitamin levels and told me to eat a lot of salads and vitamins and what not. I knew it then that this wasn’t caused by some vitamin deficiency but my mental health. I was one step closer to breaking down.

Then, about two weeks the app on my phone made me realize that my period hadn’t arrived for two months. The first thought in my head was, of course, “Holy shit, I’m pregnant.” But then logic kicked in that I wasn’t. I checked and also, I’d be gaining weight instead of losing it, if I was. It’s funny how we always jump to that conclusion. But anyway, this time I went to a gyno and that lady was so nice and concerned about me. She gave prescribed me some syrups and told me to do yoga. So I did exactly what she told me to do. It’s been more than a month but I’m yet to see any changes. “Aunt Flo”  hasn’t visited either.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ungrateful for the life that I have. I’m very, very grateful to be able to have a chance at higher education, food and shelter. I’m not saying that my life sucks. I’m saying I do. My mind has become so fragile that it’s not able to control my body. I’m losing touch of who I am. I cannot believe the person I’ve turned into. I wasn’t this brand-toting bitch who gave a crap about what the difference between blue toned red and orange toned red was. I had legit one pair of floaters and now look at me. I could be suicidal as all hell and yet my self esteem wouldn’t suffer. It’s super weird.

Again, my life isn’t all bad either. I go out a lot. I hang out at this place called “The Nest” almost every day. I read a lot over there. Whenever this certain friend of mine comes to town, those couple of days are always amazing. My anxiety levels drop drastically. I eat a lot more and I sleep better, too. I think he knows how much he helps because he’s started coming down more often than what I think is convenient. It’s not just him, my friends in general are lifesaving. When I was in my suicidal phase I talked to Ruchi and Bebo, friends of mine from school. If I’m alive today it’s mainly because of those two.

But still there’s this… Thing in my head. It’s just there and I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what it is. I mean I have seen people die of stress. Hell, my baba died of stress, so I should know. Even if I don’t actively take actions to end my existence, it doesn’t matter. It’s happening on its own.

I’m sorry if it didn’t make a lot of sense. I don’t make sense, either.

Miracles

 Do you believe in them? Do you believe that there’s one extraordinary incident that happens to us while we need it the most? Or do you think a miracle is something humans made up to keep the Hope within us alive? Me? Yes, I believe in miracles. 

I think we all get one. One miracle. We all get one miracle in the duration of our entire lifetime. Edison’s was that the bulb lit up. Newton’s was that the entire Cambridge university was shut down because of plague, which gave him time to give name a phenomenon “Gravity”

Some keep waiting for their miracle, while some are convinced that theirs will never arrive. Some are in between their miracles as we speak and some have no idea that what life threw their way was a miracle.

One thing that goes perfectly with a miracle is Hope. Haven’t you ever wondered how the whole concept of Hope is cruelly beautiful? We can’t know for sure what will happen, but some part us is sure that the events will turn in our favor. There’s this voice in our head which advices us to think that good will happen. That voice doesn’t listen to people, logic, reason, or anything else than the deepest part of our mind which knows what we truly want, even when we’re scared to admit it.

So, when we Hope and then the events unfold and cause our desirable events, we call it a miracle. When they don’t…we call it a tragedy.

But even after all this, I believe that Miracles do exist. And they do happen. But all we need to do is hope. Because let’s face it, without hope we’re just overly evolved monkeys who can talk. Why don’t we believe in them more? What happened to us? I’m very much convinced that as long as I have hope, I’ll have my miracle.

So wait. Wait for your miracle. Because everyone does get one, and no one’s an exception.

My lists

So I introduced an idea a few weeks back. It’s in the post titled Take it off. It was that we all should make two lists. Under one head we should list down the things we don’t like about ourselves which are more physical in nature, and under the other one we should list down the things that we like about ourselves which are not physical.

Obviously, I expected some people to hit me up and tell me that it isn’t so easy to love one’s self. They told me that someone who has spent decades hating the way that they look cannot just change that by making some stupid list and embracing themselves. And if I think I’m so good at this accepting myself thing, why don’t I make a list and post it on my blog for the world to see.

I hated the fact that they seemed to assume that I had no insecurities and thought that I think I’m perfect. I’m not. I’m actually very very very far away from it. You think I don’t get that envious chill when I see someone like Gigi Hadid, or Adele or Lisa Hayden? No, it’s not that I don’t get insecurities. It’s just that I am what I am and I cannot change it. I’ve accepted it. When I had really bad insecurities about my looks, I actually thought about getting a rhinoplasty. There was even a family joke about it. What they didn’t know was that their jokes hurt me. My nose is weird. It’s not big or small..It’s weird. I don’t even know what shape to call it. I started taking the idea of changing my nose very seriously. Then one day my glasses slipped down lower on my nose, making my nose smaller in appearance. I looked in the mirror and thought…Is that me? That didn’t look like me. I didn’t like it very much. I didn’t want to look different. It occurred to me that even if I did change my nose, I wouldn’t like it very much. What’s the point of spending all that money and still not liking myself?

So, no. I don’t think I’m the the most beautiful person in the world. No, I don’t have the confidence of someone who doesn’t give a fuck. No, I do not think that I’m invincible and most importantly, No I don’t think I have the power to change anyone’s opinions just by posting something on the internet. It has to be you who does it. I can probably help a little by telling you that it is do-able and not the most bizarre thing in the world. Loving one’s self is difficult, especially when you’re your worst enemy.

But if knowing about my lists make you feel better, and makes you think that it’s possible that you can accept your body, and love yourself then I will gladly do it.

The things that I don’t like about my physical appearance are:

  1. I have these small bumps and red dots all over my arms and legs. I don’t know what they are, they’ve just been there ever since I can remember.
  2. My hair. It changes seasonally and since monsoon is coming, I need an army to protect my hair from frizz and shit like that.
  3. My vagina. Long story, but I’m very, very insecure of how it looks.
  4. I regret the scars on my thighs.
  5. My elbows and Knees. They’ve always looked like I was born in a coal mine. Again, no idea why.

The things that I like about myself that aren’t physical:

  1. I forgive people easily.
  2. I’m there for people. No matter what. Literally.
  3. I’m loyal.
  4. I defend my people to hell and back ( I guess that comes under loyalty)
  5. I do not judge. Like, at all.
  6. I’m independent.
  7. I learn from my mistakes
  8. I work hard. (Remember when I was working 17 hours a day?)
  9. I’m funny, man. It’s dark humor, offensive humor and way more sex jokes than should be allowed, but funny regardless.
  10. I’m strong as fuck, bro. Sometimes I surprise myself.( I didn’t think I’d survive 30th June of last year, 28th August of last year or 28th April of this year, or 22nd May of this year. But I did. I’m so proud of myself for that. I’m not saying I’m unbreakable or that I can’t be hurt. No, all I’m saying is that I’m capable of handling a lot of things that life’s thrown at me.)
  11. I accept myself.

So there you go. My lists are all out in the open. My lists of things I like about myself is longer, because I’ve developed those traits. Not to impress anyone, but to become a better person. For the people around me and for myself.

Again, by no means am I suggesting that I’m over every little insecurity that I had. I’m not. But no one, and I mean absolutely no one in this world is going to make me feel bad about my body, not even me. Especially not me. You can point out my mistakes, you can remind me of them for the rest of my life, but you cannot say that I haven’t changed for the better. And I will keep on changing.

So should you. If you don’t love yourself today, it’s okay. You will if you try to. You will fail, but that’s okay. Nobody succeeded without failing first. You’re not doing things right if you aren’t failing. So failing is okay. Be sure to get back in the game and start from the scratch if need be. You’re worth all this effort. Trust me.

You’re beautiful and you’re unique and the world wouldn’t be the same without you.