Unexpected joys

I had a gift given to me by someone I once truly loved. It now stays with me as a reminder of the things I lost to pride. I carry it around with me everywhere, like an albatross around my neck. A proof of my guilt and sadness. I could easily have replaced it; I don’t know why I didn’t. I would have forever carried it around if not for the unexpected gift I received from an almost stranger. A surprise gift. Something I would have never got for myself inspite of having the resources to. I guess it is the masochistic side of my personality. Or maybe the frugal side. Who knows…  

The gift is beautiful. Handmade with love it says. Something I am always in need of. It asks me to believe. How apt. when I opened the parcel, not expecting it to fall to my lap, I felt my eyes sting. Another thing I cannot explain. Was it pain that made me carry it around for so long? Was it regret? But now I carry this new gift from an almost friend. And I smile every time I see “believe”. Maybe there is still time for redemption. Who knows…

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To ‘Once-upon-a-time’ friendship

Dear once-upon-a-time-best-friend,

It’s been quite a long time since we have been in touch. I remember our last conversation. You congratulating me on the gold medal, me accepting the wishes graciously. Very unlike us. I remember that night clear as day. Talk about paradox. I remember the days leading up to it quite clearly too. I remember writing that acceptance speech, trying to be all grown up. But the best part of that speech came the night before the graduation ceremony. When I tried to make up with you. But was met with empty corridors. The tears that night really burned a hole and the words were beautiful. I can never forgive you. And I know you do not seek it, do not even know the impact it had left on me. Well, you didn’t care. You never did. I shouldn’t have either. But I did. Foolish huh.

I know I was at fault. I had hurt your feelings. That is why I tried. But I guess it was too late by then. I am sorry for that. You do not know how much. But I am. Still. I wish I had done things differently. But the past is what it is. I can only work on my present and my future. I say this with all my heart that I hope I have matured since then. Although I don’t know for sure. One never knows. Until tested. And I hope I don’t get tested anytime soon. I am still fragile. Because I still can’t forgive you. This is the truth. I have learned to live with it running in the background, it has become part of the white noise inside my brain. But I still haven’t moved on. I don’t know if I ever will. Hence all the sad sob shares on social media. I try hard to make up for your absence in my life. Most times I don’t even care. But days like this leave me wistful.

Special days. I hate them the most. I like the monotony now. It’s comforting. Something I can depend on. Sometimes when I hear you being mentioned by our mutual friends, my heart skips a beat, I don’t always know how to react. So I choose the easy way, I ignore it. I still haven’t told my mom about us. She thinks we just drifted apart. Somehow it feels like if I tell another person about us, you will be forever lost. Somehow, someone else knowing we are no longer friends would make the fact concrete. As though it isn’t already so. I am such a fool sometimes.

I still miss you. I miss you most when I hear my new friends reminiscing about their college days like they were last night. I have no stories. Not anymore. I wish I could be part of theirs but I can’t. I am adrift. Sometimes I think it’s for the best. This way there is less chance of getting hurt or hurting others. I am especially cruel with people I love. Don’t ask how I got so screwed up. But I like running away from love. Just another damaged good. Let’s leave it at that. Nothing new. No use romanticizing this broken-ness. I have read enough posts to know how one can start loving this misery, this notion of being a victim. I at least have not stooped to that level. Tears still are a sign of weakness and if you can’t live your life just because of a mistake you made, you are pathetic. Tears are to be shed in the darkness of the night, only to be shared with your pillow. This is my notion of adulthood. Maybe because I look through a cracked glass. I like to know the other side of the story too.

I hope you are happy. You were always such a congenial person. I know life would be a breeze for you. Or I hope so. Anyway, happy friendship day to you and your friends. Late though I might be, my wishes for you are true.

From your once-upon-a-time-best-friend.

P.S – not really sure if I actually was your Best Friend or was it all just inside my head?!

forgetting to forget you

It was by chance… I saw you. I have been trying to stay as far away from you as possible, taking every precaution necessary. So when it happened… I felt this strange pinch in my heart. And it felt like I couldn’t take my eyes off of you even if I tried. Almost like, I wanted to keep looking at you so I could feel all that pain again. Almost like a masochist.
I know that we are over. And everybody keeps advising me to stop dragging a relationship beyond its normal course of time. Like our relationship had an expiration date. And I know it was right to give up finally. But strangely when ever these chances occur, when I end up seeing you, right doesn’t feel that right.
I really had no idea we would end up like this. I know you are not the one to mourn the loss of someone for long. And I guess that is an advantage, to have that capacity to move on no matter what. I wish I would just get on with it too. It’s so tiresome to be careful and purposely try not to go places where past might come chasing after me. It’s no fun being on guard. You have no idea how frustrated I am with myself. I just… I wish I could just forget that I have to forget you.

story of me

They say, the best stories are the ones with little bit of truth in them. a little bit of the soul of the writer. I haven’t had the most extraordinary of lives… But there have been a lot of things I am always going to be grateful for. So this is my story. The reason that I write.
I know lose is a part of life. The way we deal with them makes us who we are. I can share happiness… it’s the sadness that I am partial about. I guess it’s the reason I am often labeled selfish. I know I am a hypersensitive person and there aren’t many ways for me to hide or overcome this defect in my character. Before reading the autobiography of Thrity Umrigar, an Indian parsi author, I never realized that I wasn’t an abnormality. That there were people out there who felt the way I did.
I lived in a small place, far out of reach of the world that I had started living in inside my head. I wanted to be part of that world, be part of her story, I wanted to ride the B.E.S.T bus with her, wanted to pull down my socks and hike up my skirt with her, I wanted to be the person buying story books with her. But we lived in different places and more importantly in different time era. But she was my inspiration. She was my friend, someone who understood me, someone who went through the same things that I went through, someone who realized that love could become a cage from which it would forever be difficult to fly away… someone who knew that letting go first, took so much courage. She felt like a soul sister I had from a different dimension. Through her story, I got hope… that future wasn’t as bleak as it looked, that there was a much wider world out there, and people who understood us, where we wouldn’t have to live like misfits, where we would be accepted for who we were and we didn’t have to hide behind the curtains of fake controlled smiles, that there was a way to experience the world from that small window of hope… books.
So I wrote. To be able to turn sorrows into stories. To be able to read them and let go of them. everytime reality got too hurtful I took refuge in the world of stories. Everytime the world got too sarcastic and mean, I turned to them again. Until it felt like the stories in those pages were more real than the real life passing me by. I tried to build a mask. To stop the pain from seeping out into all my relations. But damaged goods cannot be repaired, can never be brand new. The cracks were always going to show. I tried to hide it. tried to make up for it. but the truth is, the world always knows your weak points. And life always teaches the same lessons until we learn to learn from them. so when reality finally struck, and relations I thought most important to me couldn’t withstand the burden of my past, I had to lose them all…
They say love can overcome everything. I have been in love. And I ended up breaking them, destroying them. So now, Love scared me. I didn’t want to be a monster anymore. I closed all the windows to it. Because I didn’t want to hurt people anymore. I was tired of pulling everyone down with me, to that scary dark pit where hope had very little light. I didn’t want people who loved me, to face those demons I had to deal with on a regular basis. I was scared… that they wouldn’t love me if they knew the real me, if they found out how broken and beyond repair I was. I was scared that they would give up on me if they found out how far gone I was. So I gave up first. I left them before they could ever leave me. I was a young scared child in a grown person’s body. And nobody understood it, nobody had a clue about it. Cause I had managed to fool them all. I guess I was successful in building that mask I always wanted.
Until one day, when love decided to walk into my life, breaking down doors and pushing through the darkness of my soul. A love, which made me lose control and forced me to show my real self. Love which made me realize, I was holding on to too many things. Love, that made me realize that my heart had enough space for love but none for all that guilt. It made me realize that if I ever wanted to move forward in life, I had to first forgive myself. Those people I had hurt had long since forgotten me. They had moved way ahead in life… that I was only a distant memory, a small character in their story. But for me, the guilt kept the wounds fresh. It occupied and colored all my memories with hurt. Sometimes it filled all my waking hours with nightmares. Consciousness suffocated me. Sleep was my only escape.
But this beautiful love took me by the storm and left me without the support of the mask I had always held on to. It forced me to face my demons and overcome them. it made me realize that my hypersensitivity wasn’t a curse. That I was strong enough, capable enough to love and be loved. That I was held back by chains I had built myself. that the mask I had thought was my fortress had become my cage. And I only had to be strong enough to let it crumble. I realized that all I had to do was ask for forgiveness, that I didn’t have to suffer in silence. That sharing my hurt was going to enable me to let it go finally. So I did it. And with each story that I told, I felt the tightness in my heart loosening. The lump in my throat melting and love filling up my soul and hope glittering like diamonds. The grip of guilt finally letting go of me. at last freeing my soul.
This is me all barred. Judge me if you must. But I learnt all these lessons and I survived it all. And don’t they say? What doesn’t kills you make you stronger! I am better than I was. I will be better than I am. I promise.

The real me… lost and found

Been so crazy for so long to believe in happy go lucky mantra, fell in love with it the first time I heard it and decided to follow it ever since, and don’t intend to stop just because a pissed off fellow tells me to, because I’ve never hurt people intentionally, asked forgiveness every time i felt i did someone wrong and meant it…

Forgave people who hurt me;of course with time, but completely. the shadows of past never dulled the happiness of meeting the people him/herself who caused the unhappiness… How many of you can tell honestly that you prayed for the people who hurt you? I do, every time my heart reeks with the betrayal of a dear one. whether the incident happened in the past or present…

Now, my relation is with god not with those who hurt me. but still, here i am justifying my actions to find love and acceptance in the heart of haters, can i care more?? perhaps i should care less.. because it hurts so much…

I may not have many real friends in life but those that i do i treasure them like diamonds. Perhaps some try to come close too, like i do, but i fail to notice their efforts like some fail to notice mine, them, I never hold a grudge against, after all we are all human and have our own preferences and hence hope for the same from those that get ignored by me. Forgive me for i am a bit of a loner not by choice but by nature. love the company of nature more and love to reflect, so… it happens . .

Always heard no matter how great a person is they always have someone who will hate them for some reason.. never wanted to believe it. call it self pity or self praise but yes i believe it now. After the many stabs of friends that cover my soul and all i felt was betrayal. I don’t expect all of you to understand how much it pains me to loose a friend or gain an enemy, but I do hope that those I hold close to my heart will at least attempt to understand. . . I hold no ill will for anyone. But if anyone does i can only pray. If they wish, they can always tell me and we can work on in together. But now i have grown wise and have decided to drop out now all those that just pretend to be with me and hold on only to those that are really there for me. I can’t keep sinking into lemons and complain its sour, I need to drop them so i can hold the apples more dearly…

I am the kind of person who would cry for a total strangers loss and help them if I could. this I believe is my humanity. Laugh if you want, cause I believe in humanity. If you don’t care it still doesn’t equate to no one cares. Someone always will, and that will be my solace…

Mock me if you want. but this is me all bared.

warrior or victim…

I used to be a very stable person.. someone who got trusted a lot.. to do a lot of things… i didn’t suffer from  this emotional outbursts which has become a part of me now… mostly I kept to myself, never getting too involved in anything… books were all I had… and it was good. I used to look down on people being over dramatic… used to wonder why people went ahead and created their own problems and then cried over it. I never suffered from excess of anything. I had friends in the characters of my novels… I could be in the bed whole day dreaming up new characters… extending the story… Now, some how I feel I have lost that ability to dream up, like before… I was never the cunning, competitive, loud, attention seeking, backstabbing type… I guess time changes us… or maybe I was always like this, I just hadn’t realized it before now.

I never wanted anything too much… was more interested in learning others than in letting others know who I was… I used to think I was a traveler… moving from one place to another… gathering knowledge, experience, stories… I was never possessive or the jealous type… I had dreams… I just didn’t have a goal. I dreamt of flying away to some place where I wasn’t chained by boundaries set by the society… most of the time I just wished I was invisible. i wished I didn’t have the burden of other people’s expectation. of all the burdens, those are the hardest to bear. If I didn’t expect anything, in return nothing could be expected of me either right??! I just wanted to dissolve into the background of everything.

How did I change so much? For a really long time I thought I was strong. I didn’t know or maybe didn’t want to know the weaknesses I had hidden inside… I thought, if I could bottle up the hatred and hurt and convert it into something else… i would be invincible. But I couldn’t do it.

Emotion are harder to control then I thought. They creep up slowly, silently, without letting their presence be felt until its too late to let go of them. The only way to make up for the weaknesses in me, was to act the opposite of all I was. I had to be cruel, hard, unforgiving. I had to be Cold outside to compensate for being too sensitive inside.

We live in a harsh world. Isn’t that what everyone tells us?? I have seen it myself, what happens to people too weak to protect themselves, despised them. I cannot afford to let others know my weakness. It would give them too much power over me. Hadn’t I myself used that knowledge to the fullest, wherever possible. 

But somehow my guards weren’t as strong as I thought it was. I didn’t hide my feeling well enough or so it seems. I was doing it all wrong, some say. But I had lived too long this way to change now. I guess pretending it for that long, it just became a part of me… the cruelness and the unforgivingness in my nature.

I always thought myself to be more of a warrior than a victim. or was it the other way round. was I waiting to be rescued? a dame in despair… pathetic!! I thought I could control my future, or at-least my present. But there were just too many loopholes in my plan. I was never going to succeed anyway. Dreams are just that. Dreams…