Friday, May 18, 2018

Big little lies

Pain is addictive. Especially if it is all that you have known. You crave it when it is gone. What is happiness ? Such an alien much outside of my comfort zone.

Whenever I laugh, I see myself drift over the ceiling of the room and have this out of body experience where I am looking at someone laughing - without feeling the happy feeling I should be feeling. Like I am a spectator who watches people be happy - "happy" which is an alien feeling I don't know.

But it is not like I want to be happy anymore. I have acclimatized to pain and sadness. It has strong nostalgia for me and I feel like I am a child again, back in time. I need to be my best, I am the most productive when I am in pain. Because that's how I became a workaholic.

Recently I got married to the most loving and selfless person I have known, moved into a new house which is right out of a magazine. And I cant shake the feeling that I don't deserve this ... I keep feeling that something better go wrong right this moment or my head will explode.

Well, it is not like I am depressed. Because I never wanted to hurt myself or anyone. Also when things ARE going wrong - I am visibly happy. I am cheerful ! Saying hello.. have a nice day to random people I meet in SF downtown while walking to work. It is the familiarity. I very recently realized why I was successful - it is because you have to always be struggling to fill that void in your life. It drives you .. but for me that is familiarity and the comfort that make me feel "at home".

Hiraeth. I want to just go home ...but there is no "home" anymore. So this pain that reminds me of home is a good replacement. Give me more or else I might lose my identity.

Monday, March 6, 2017

A girl is no one.

I do not exist. I am a fraction of a moment in the forever of time. I am a tiny speck in the infinitude of the universe. Why should my thoughts be of any significance? Why should my agony be of any consequence? I am a nobody and I don't want to feel the fake superiority my ego gives me over other human beings.

None of us are understood truly, inside out in an entire lifetime. We live lonely lives with the illusion that we are not alone. But the truth is that even amidst a million friends and a plethora of family relationships - we are born in our mind, we live in our lonely thoughts and we die with a gazillion unfulfilled desires. We get hurt, we bleed, we cry. We hurt, we kill, we laugh too. Selfishness is central to our own pain. Only when we place our mind, heart and soul away from the centroid of our being, do we truly experience the peace and contentment that there is in being a nobody. The truth is that we came from nothing and we will be withered into nothingness. Can we start acknowledging this reality ... the reality we have always known about but never thought it applied to us?

Your thoughts are random - they are merely a collection of electrical impulses in your brain and nothing more. Your mind can betray you - it can make you believe that your dear friend is your biggest foe. It can make you believe you are amazing and everyone else is an idiot. It can fool you into thinking you are not capable of anything. It can also make you believe that the world is out to get you, to hurt you - when in reality the world is merely a collection of random chaos. It doesn't make sense because it doesn't have to - as simple as that. The human mind is fixated on the idea of making sense of things. It won't add up - and when it does, it is most probably just selection bias.

Your feelings are not only random - they are dangerous. Emotions are so powerful that they drive your thoughts - it is rarely the other way around. When you are hurt you ensure that you hurt everyone back. That is how the cycle of hurt never ends. Hate is more powerful than love - sadly. It is so much harder to forgive and forget - than to hold on to an imaginary grudge that feeds your insatiable thirst for pain. There is an inexplicable amount of pleasure in staying addicted to sadness. There is a weird kind of comfort in constantly feeling pain - it makes you immune to the temporary joys of life. But feeling your own pain is probably the worst kind of self indulgence.

The moment we begin to see the comedy in how much we take ourselves seriously is when this pain would truly and permanently end. Accept that ... that you are nothing ... and that your time here is transient. Life is fleeting. Look away from the self and see around you. We all are in pain. We all hide it well. We all need love but we all are just capable of giving the exact opposite. We are weak. We are lost. Have a little more empathy and a little less vanity. We are all in this together.

Monday, January 4, 2016

Moving on...

I spent every day of 2015 missing you.

That’s the sort of thing we’re not supposed to admit out loud: that we can spend entire years caught up in the memory of somebody else, even when our lives are expanding and taking off around us.

We’re supposed to be stronger than that.

We’re supposed to be people who bounce back: from pain, from rejection, from loneliness, from hurt. I spent every day of this past year trying to be stronger than that hurt. But for so much of it, I was not.

I missed you while we were still together. I missed you in each moment I felt you pull away, in every memory that passed of the way things used to be, in every scarcely uttered ‘I love you’ that felt more like a plea from a desperately sinking ship than a genuine expression of affection. I missed you while you fell asleep beside me, I missed you when I woke up alone.

I missed you for so long after you left.

I missed you on the lips of every other boy I kissed, inside the bodies of every other person I tried to love. I missed you in the dead of night with all the blinds drawn and in the middle of the sunniest days, when the entire Universe was swelling and expanding around me.

I spent three hundred and sixty five days without you and I missed you with one hundred percent of my heart, every day for one year.

But I will not do so for a year and one day.

2016 marks the end of me missing you.

I know it’s not as simple as that – that loving someone doesn’t disappear because a clock strikes twelve and a year ends and a new one begins. I know that feelings take time to work themselves out of our systems and that it may be a very long time before you no longer cross my mind. But here is what I can claim: 2016 is the year where I finally stop enabling my own pain.

2016 is the year where I stop picking at your scab, begging it to bleed because it’s easier to keep patching that wound up than it is to actually heal it. It’s the year where I stop comparing everyone else I meet to you, because it’s easier to let them fall short than it is to actually try to invest in someone new. It’s the year where I cancel my pity party, even if it’s easier to attend it than it is to show up to my life and try again.

2016 is the year where I finally accept the hand that I was dealt so long ago and I choose to move forward with it, instead of constantly dwelling on the way things should have gone.

This is the year where my triumphs belong to only me. Where every challenge, every conquest, every victory I encounter is not tainted with the absence of somebody else. It’s the year where I accept my own glories and failures alone – the year where I know that I’m strong enough to handle both.

This is the year where I’ll be present.

Where I’ll kiss new lips and not compare them to the lips of past lovers. Where I’ll start new projects and not wonder what someone else would have thought of them. Where I’ll plan for the future in an unconstrained way, because I’m the only one I have to plan it for. It’s the year where I finally let the present take whatever form it may, because the present is good enough for me. Because I’m ready to let it expand into something incredible.

And so as the past year draws to a close and the new one begins to unfold, I hope that you’re happy as well. I hope you come to life and find your way and kiss someone incredible and learn to let me go in the year that comes, too.

I hope you’re happy in 2016. Because I’m finally ready to be so on my own.

And I don’t have any time left to waste on being unsure.

Source : TC

Friday, October 9, 2015

Because everything changes...but somethings are irreplaceable.

Sometimes I think I just think too much. Maybe it is supposed to be simple and I just cannot stop finding meaning in even the most mundane things.

I have always been the listening ear to far too many people in my life. I adjust too well sometimes - many times pushed to the boundaries of my own comfort because I just cannot say no to people. Also, I am the most vulnerable person when it comes to something like guilt - a close friend jokes, "if there are hungry kids in Africa, Manee will feel guilty here for even that". Well that sums it up pretty nicely. Everything that goes wrong around me somehow gets very perfectly rationalized in my mind as my fault. Something that I could have done better. Something that I could have done differently.
And obviously something will always be imperfect - which means I will always have some reason to feel guilty.

And all I needed was for you understand this about me. How I want everything to be perfect and ideal. And I wanted this, most of all, about us. That we will be perfect - the perfect love story that I had imagined for us, always. And I know this sounds stupid ! There are imperfections in every one of us. We all make mistakes - and I have done some blunders. But I am not sure why we cannot forgive.
Because I like things to be ideal and perfect - I believe in giving people the chance to be their most ideal self - no matter how many iterations of stupid mistakes it will take. You cannot live your life holding on to some mistakes you made (or someone else made) and judge everything on the basis of that. I have forgiven you and I want to be able to forgive myself someday.

Everything is temporary - everything is fluid. One day I will not exist and all this madness will be forgotten. So if you are too scared to be hurt - you can live a life of extreme caution where you refuse to be vulnerable. But then you wouldn't have truly lived. The root of my bravery is my extreme fear and my ardent detest for any kind of fear. I would hate to be a person who is too scared to feel again. But I am not sure if I would ever be able to feel the feeling that I had felt for you once. Somewhere amidst all my rational reasoning - there is this romantic who wants to do something as stupid all over again just because.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

.. And then, I woke up.

It feels like I am wide awake after a beautiful dream. I was fast asleep and back in the dream everything was beautiful. I had friends... I had a loving perfect family. I was happy, I was content. Everything seemed to have a meaning, a purpose and even the most mundane things felt pleasurable. I doubted it... yes, it was too good to be true. But I was lost in the bliss. I was a fool and I was in love. I did not see any flaws in anything and anyone.
But now I have woken up. And it is not even half as rosy. Like you were deep in slumber and someone gave you a caffeine shot. You want to go back to sleep but you can't. You try and it just doesn't happen. And the truth is bare and uninteresting. It is naked and hurtful. Maybe it is my mistake. Maybe I ruined it and that was not a dream, but rather another reality which I transformed into this one by a string of callous decisions. Was I ever, at any point mean and selfish that now I am merely paying a price for it? Or have I known too much of this "truth" to be rendered incapable of feeling the emotions that had made that very dream so beautiful? I somehow understand Olivia Dunham. She overcompensates for everything. I can see my reflection in her actions and decisions. In Peter Bishop's words, "She is always trying to make up for something...correcting an imaginary wrong." It is probably that.
I have tried to deny it, but the feeling won't go away. I have to keep running ... before it catches up with me.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

To love!

It is like you are playing with me. A pinch of a happy remark from you lifts me up to cloud 9. A dash of a harsh comment throws me smashing into the abyss again. It's like I am a puppet and you have now been long bored of playing with it...but you still do because you don't have a better toy. But it is not your fault. I handed over my strings to you of my own accord. I will break free...soon. Until then, enjoy the dance! 

Saturday, February 22, 2014

Why I hated the Game of Thrones

I am going to rant on about why I hate GOT. It may sound blasphemous to the fans but even if I consider myself a sadist or a masochist, I cannot derive entertainment out of child molestations, cold blooded murders, rapes, gory violence because there is nothing original there. I can find this even in the newspaper. If you expect me to not be able to tolerate graphic details of violence simply because I have an X chromosome instead of a Y, it may be of interest to note that I actually find myself digging out the most violent news snippets from the internet and reading as much details about them as I can find. I read extensively about serial killers, psychopath killers, rapists or terrorists because violence does not bother me and psychology intrigues me. I read ravenously about the Fritzl case of Austria for days and even found myself looking for details about the Damini case. Now getting back to GOT - even if I accept the fact that it is indeed merely a dystopian dark fantasy series (now that we have established that violence is not my problem with it), there is so much more that it lacks which ended up frustrating me. When I began watching it, I had no idea it had a “fantasy” element to it so the question of comparing it with HP did not even arise – HP is a perfect story to me and I cannot tarnish it by comparing any and every other story with it – and I didn’t.
Whenever I begin a book or a series, I am both skeptic as well as hopeful; Skeptic because I am not easily impressed and hopeful because I am always interested in things, generally (and I lose interest as quickly too). GOT was supposed to be a royal tale about the complex international politics of power – so obviously I had high expectations from it, especially because I love the complex! So I was instantly intrigued. I watched the first episode and got bored to death but my tenacity did not let me give up on the series before the Red Wedding. That is when I had had it – not the violence, but the sheer stupidity and lack of direction of the plot. Let me explain what seems so wrong to me about GOT:
1.     The pace of the story is excruciatingly slow! You cannot keep your interest alive in the few promising characters there are, like Tyrion or Arya or Jon or Bran or Daenerys (my favorite) because the plot moves in such a sluggish manner that you feel you have been watching them walk and walk in the jungles, the snow, the wind, the rain, the sand for ages! Thirty hours have past (and that is what – three books?) and I can count the interesting events on my fingers. The rest of it is just a tedious ordeal.
2.     The characters! They lack any real depth and most characters can be described with one adjective or two. Cercei is a bitch. Ned Stark is the most honorable man in Seven Kingdoms. Jon the bastard. Arya the tomboy. Like that. Almost all the characters can be divided into two categories – clever cowards or honorable fools. Like stupidity comes with honor in a person – the most annoying characteristic of the series! Then there are conversations that do entertain in the beginning but by the end of the third season become boring and predictable. There will be a slew of smart-ass replies when two ‘clever cowards’ will talk and they will try to bring each other down with their words. When two ‘honorable fool’ characters will converse, there is a palpable heaviness that you will feel in the conversation and they both will be just raving about how heavy their shoulders are with all the weight of the world. Then there are the conversations between the two types where the clever coward will tell the honorable fool about his foolishness and the honorable fool retorts by telling him about the clever coward’s cowardice. How innovative! How entertaining…. Not!
3.     You will not get closure. Most of the events are very random – and I get it why people find it intriguing. Because randomness is unpredictable. So George R.R. Martin’s trick is over complicate the story and introduce random events for which you will never get closure or events that have no consequence except to prolong the already over stretched plot. After some “twists and turns” in the story, I was left confused and asking myself “what’s the point?” For example, Jon Snow is the outcast, the bastard who could never fit in. But then that’s it – nothing more to this really. He is somewhere in the north of the wall and I don’t even care to remember what all happened there, because things don’t go the way they are built up. He was supposed to kill a member of the Night’s Watch to win the trust of Wildlings so that he can later be useful. Great! But what happens? There is a brief shallow love story and then before you know it, it’s over! What happened, Mr. Martin? You got bored of your own plot? How long before you kill Jon, now that he has become a burden on you? I stopped caring about the Night’s Watch long ago to be bothered about this. Again, so much build-up around the Red woman, yet nothing of consequence happens. The God of light, the whole drama around Stannis (I fail to understand why the character of Renly was created) and then nothing even remotely entertaining comes of it. I am getting pissed off by all the build-ups that end up as empty promises. Why are there so many events that have no meaning?  And don’t even get me started on Theon Greyjoy – what is his role? What is his motivation? What is he doing in the story except pissing you off? And oh Bran, you are a warg. We are finally told this in the third season, you had so much of potential to make this tedious tale interesting, but the poor Martin does not know how to use you well and well in time. And Khal Drogo dies of a wound? Really? You’ve got to be kidding me. If anyone says that it is original writing, I am gonna smack him. None of the characters stand out and so many of them are simply boring…and frustrating.
4.     I care about the story and the characters when I watch anything or read any book. None of the characters in the story are likeable. I like Arya and Daenerys because I relate to them. Plus the latter is the mother of dragons (which can any moment be stolen by Tywin Lannister I guess). The story of Daenerys was the only one, I think, interesting enough to keep me patient with the series. I even ignored the fact that she fell in love with the person who raped her (And why does every sex scene either involve a whore or a scandal or a rape?) I liked Ned, you killed him and I made my peace with it. Probably it was important for the story. But then you kill Robb and Catelyn too? Why did you drag them through three seasons, why the huge build up? I so knew by now that Arya would not meet them. That is the pattern here, what happens is the exact opposite of what you expect. Maybe Daenerys gets killed by one of her slaves in her sleep, who knows? How exciting? How unpredictable and entertaining? No, it’s just sheer stupid. Robb killing Karstark was stupid. Catelyn letting Jaime go was stupid. Ned telling the queen that he knows her secret was not honorable, but stupid. Baelish and Varys – because they do not have any real motivation, of their actions I stopped caring about them too, though initially I thought the unrequited love angle would shape into some event later. But again, nothing! I need something to look forward to be able to watch the show and I have lost all interest, I no longer care enough. I always try to make sense of the plot and unlike most guys I really don’t watch it for the porn factor, or as a guilty pleasure. I couldn’t make sense of so many events that I kept in mind thinking that they may be connected to so many future events until I gave up thinking most events are random.
I really do not like George R.R Martin’s style of storytelling. The first season was so promising; so many characters had so much of potential. But you choose to show Tyrion like a helpless kitten in love or lost in debauchery when he is not making smartass statements (some of which were witty), how is that entertaining to people, I wonder. And why are there so many meaningless love stories going on? (I don’t give a fuck about Gilly or Ygritte!) I can just go on and on about what all is so wrong about GOT, but in the end I have to make my peace with the fact that I did not like it. I so wanted to like it – it had the elements I’d like – politics, history, fantasy and the story of royal families (that is my favorite kind). But still I hated it, and I am surprised somebody can take these elements and make a story so STUPID. What frustrates me the most is that this REALLY could have been an amazing story if R.R. Martin knew how to implement his ideas into a convincing story. There are no climactic moments and it is just a series of one dull event after another (seriously how much can I enjoy smartass converstations? I’d rather read G.B Shaw or Oscar Wilde’s quotes for that). I am so disappointed.