You know there are a few things that you have always wanted to say out, put it on record, but never really did. I have always been a wallflower (not that I am sad about it, that is who I am). I have tried to blend in groups, and failed. Every single time. There has thus, become a list. A list of the things I do not admit for the fear of being judged.
These things or rather facts have remained inside me for too long, and somewhere down the line, I stopped accepting them. Sometimes though you ought to say them out loud. So, here it goes.
- I am socially awkward. I have tried making small talk, but I have always fail. I cannot keep a conversation going. I absolutely lack those skills. I want to talk to people sometimes but, I don’t know the algorithm to do so. Even when I really want to talk to someone, I fail terribly. Initiating a conversation is a Herculean task for me. I am absolutely bad at keeping touch with people. This, has cost me many of my friends.
- The world is a very lonely place to be. They say the idea of love or “the one” is overrated. You don’t need someone to complete yourself. You are self-sufficient. Wouldn’t it be nice though to have someone you could go back to anytime and talk about absolutely anything without any fear or hesitation? Isn’t this the “one” everyone seeks?
- I don’t like music. Rock, pop, sufi, classical, none of it. Music for some is a relaxant and for some a hobby. For me, it is just noise. Plain noise. Give me dead silence over music any day. Coming to parties, let’s not even talk about it. Nothing makes me more uncomfortable than those trippy lights and loud music.
- I crave deep meaningful conversations. Not just talking but communicating. I feel that I often give out the impression that I am not very keen on talking. If only one could look through my mind. My social awkwardness reigns supreme.
- The thing that I hate the most? The fact that people build/modify their opinions about a person based on what others have to say about him/her despite already knowing and understanding that person. If someone is nice to me why should I believe you when you say that he is not a nice person. As long as he is nice to me, everything’s fine.
S: Why are you so quiet? You don’t talk much now, do you?
T: ………No, I don’t.
S: Why? What? Did something happen?
T: No. Not really.
T: I am scared.
S: Scared of what?
T: Scared of what I have become. Scared of the words that come out of my mouth. Words that I seem to have lost control over.
S: Something is amiss. You know, you can talk to someone if you want to.
T: Yeah, I know.
S: Then why don’t you?
T: ………. Doesn’t everyone have enough to deal with already? I don’t want to be the person who adds to their woes and push them even further.
S: No, it is not like that. People do fight for the ones they care about.
T: Maybe. Besides, why would someone care about a person like me? I don’t think I have done anything to deserve that care from anyone.
It needs to breathe.
It needs to feel.
It needs to be free.
What happens though if this fire is tamed.
Not allowed to breathe.
Does it fight?
Fight its suppressor.
For its color.
For its identity.
For its existence.
Or does it fizz out?
Losing its fire.
Untill fire is no longer fire.
When you have no one to run up to,
when words lump in your throat
for they don’t discover ears to rest.
Waiting for someone to knock on your door,
yet not letting them inside.
Paradox, ain’t it?
No, it’s not solitude,
for solitude is tranquil.
Loneliness, it consumes you.
Some things engrave upon you a mark,
a mark deeper than a bruise,
yet not deep enough to be wound.
Just a scar,
a scar camouflaged with make-up,
yet never letting you shut out,
its daunting presence.
Some things cling onto you
parasites that become the key to our survival,
parasites that become symbiotic.
Some things change you,
change you that your former-self seems an illusion,
change you that your memory deceives you.
I know it has been long. You must be wondering what’s up with my life? Where have I been? My answer. Well, I don’t have an answer. It’s all hazy. Hazy as the memory of the times when happiness wasn’t really an alien idea.
Tell me, my friend. Is being happy as difficult as it seems today? Why can’t I just laugh my heart out? I don’t feel anything anymore. Nothing bothers me now. This should have been good, right? But it is not. Time keeps passing. With me on my bed. Neither asleep nor awake. Nothing makes sense. All the people and things I have loved are drifting. Drifting far away. To the point of no return. Words don’t find their way out through my lips. Blank. That is what everything seems like.
How did it all this happen? How did this upbeat person become so beaten down? I am as clueless as you may be. Have you ever felt this helpless?
Thank you for listening. Hope you are doing well.
Small cities. They are chaotic. They are clumsy. They are orderless.
Yet there is something. Something that makes you theirs in a flash. Like you have always belonged here.
This aura of calm and content. They are at peace. They are Happy.