All I had to do was get out of the apartment for a couple hours so Uncle Marshall could propose to Aunt Lily, go to the bar, meet your Aunt Robin, convince your Aunt Robin to fall in love with me, break up with your Aunt Robin, go on the rebound, go get a rebound tattoo, go get the rebound tattoo removed, meet Stella, convince Stella to fall in love with me, get engaged, get left at the altar, get fired, get beat up by a goat, get a job as a professor, teach the wrong class, date the wrong girl, date the wrong girl again, date the wrong girl a few times, actually, let Uncle Barney fall in love with Aunt Robin, let Aunt Robin fall in love with Uncle Barney, book the wedding band, go to their wedding, make sure their wedding actually happened, leave a little early, be in the right place at the right time, and somehow, summon the guts to do the stupidest, most impossible thing in the world: Walk up to that beautiful girl standing under the yellow umbrella… and start talking.
Pet names (nicknames) are a persistant remnant of childhood, a reminder that life is not always so serious, so formal, so complicated. They are a reminder, too, that one is not all things to all people.These are the names by which they are known in their respective families, the names by which they are adored and scolded and missed and loved.
These are the names by which they are known in their respective families, the names by which they are adored and scolded and missed and loved. Good names appear on envelopes, on diplomas, in telephone directories, and in all other public places. Good names tend to represent dignified and enlightened qualities. Pet names have no such aspirations. Pet names are never recorded officially, only uttered, and remembered. Unlike good names, pet names are frequently meaningless, deliberately silly, ironic, and even onomatopoetic.
― Jhumpa Lahiri, The Namesake
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. I have tried to blend in groups and failed. Every single time.
Here are some facts about me:
- I am socially awkward. I have tried making small talk, but I have always failed. 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? Someone called “home”.
- Music? Dance? Never been able to truly appreciate these art forms. Give me dead silence over these 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. My social awkwardness reigns supreme. If only one could look through my mind.
- 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: 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 their plates full already? If I can’t brighten up their lives, I could atleast not dampen it any further with what goes on in my head. That’s the least I could do.
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.