About an unbirthday

My whole life, I have been plagued with fears, doubts and delusions of various kinds (mostly of the negative sort). I must confess that I have found most of those to be very unpleasant and haven’t yet quite adjusted to their unwelcome presence in my life and mind (since we’re concerning ourselves mainly with that entity in this particular piece of writing.) But my birthdays tend to be a little more disastrous than the usual days— which typically end before the crisis gets to my head and hence any extremity is reached.

My mind is not a pleasant place. I know, since I have to deal with the bizarre tantrums of the bloody thing day in and out. I don’t know what might be the problem here but you can rest assured that this mind of mine will eventually be the death of me.

These past couple of days have been a peculiar sum total of many a comedy of errors. At times, I do feel that my whole life has been in a constant state of comedy ever since I opened my eyes for the first time. And by comedy I most certainly mean the tragic kind; the sort where it becomes almost preposterous to look at the brighter side of things, that is, if there happens to be a side like that. Though I am usually assured by the spiritual types that a thing like that does happen to exist and that one is sure to spot a ray of light or two if only one vehemently persists upon looking long enough.

However owing to my awful concentration span, I tend to lose interest in most of the things after a very short period of time. Hence the likely presence of any ray, or a beam for that matter is more often than not, utterly lost on me.
You must understand that yours truly is in a perpetually annoying place in her mind and that her mind (if it’s bent upon being the all-inclusive asshole that it usually is) can just plainly refuse to function—a prospect that doesn’t appear to be too encouraging for her at the moment.

Yesterday happened to be one of those days; with my birthday being the biggest if not the only factor behind all the blues (and the yellows and the greens and the what nots) that I had to endure. As you may have (correctly) deduced, I have not been terribly fond of my birthdays ever since I can remember. And with each passing year, this aversion of mine is getting more intense; so much so that I now want to erase this date from all calendars. I can’t stand the bloody day.

I must mention however, that regardless of how it begins, (usually me sobbing over the fact that another precious year of my life has gone wasted and that death looms over me since I am now a year closer to it. Not the best of feelings, I tell you!) the 9th of February has always had this penchant of ending rather nicely for me. Mostly due to my friends who, I seem to have discovered, have this unique ability to make even the nastiest day come alive again; and they do happen to have a slightly ridiculous amount of significance in my life.

I’ll spare you all the mundane details which I am too sleepy to narrate here anyway. All in all, by the time I was preparing to hit the sac yesterday, I had a smile on my face and a ray of cheerfulness in my heart (a rare event). Oh and the mind was relatively at ease as well, dubious as it may seem!

Which forces me to conclude that perhaps my life is not that big of a tragic comedy that I think it is, or possibly the comedy isn’t as tragic (or the tragedy as comic?) or perhaps this whole tragedy and comedy thing resides only in my mind?
Hmmm.
Until the next tirade.

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Introvert (Not?)

For as long as I can recall, my mind has been convincing me of my inability to mingle with my peers. I am not known as a warm person, rather an emotionally distant being of sorts. I do happen to be acquainted with a lot of people, few of which I even have had the courage to call my friends. But apart from that very negligible faction, my life has mostly been surrounded by solitude. I prefer to be alone if I can. I draw my energy to go on in this life, by spending time with my own self. You might say it sounds “shady”, for the lack of a better word, and you might be quite right as well. For my life does revolve around my own existence and the few hours I get to allocate to myself happen to be my sanctuary. Now by that I most definitely do not intend to give the impression that I am a vain person, I might be for all I know. But that is not the impression I intend to convey in this particular post. And it is of utmost significance that you understand this fact.

The whole point of my composing this particular piece was to tackle a strange revelation that dawned upon me today. You see, I attended a bridal shower arranged by one of my dear friends today; and it so happened that I managed to enjoy myself to a great extent over there, as I often do in idle festivities like these. However, as I was going through the events of the evening later today, I suddenly realized that I was feeling particularly chirpy at that very moment because I had the fortunate experience of mingling with my friends just a little while back. I am not a very happy person, if you go by the exact definition of the word. Rather I have become rather grumpy of late; owing to the bizarre circumstances my life has conveniently thrown on my face from time to time. This particular evening though, it suddenly became clear to me that the only occasions I find myself in my element are predominantly the ones that involve the presence of my friends!!

Now imagine that you have spent three decades of your life believing yourself to be an introverted creature, shunning away from the society thinking it is not what you need and eventually getting all the more depressed. Essentially it is a loop that you find yourself tangled in since you just can’t comprehend what you’re doing wrong. You think you don’t like people and you’re avoiding them like plague but you still do not feel happy even after you have practically avoided the whole fraternity your life has forced upon you. You feel trapped. And then one fine evening, your whole make-believe world comes crashing down upon this unexpected realization that what you had always believed to be true was anything but. You need to build a new world now around a new thought that you had always thought to be archaic. That is the exact situation I am finding myself in at this moment and don’t know how to tackle it for it does seem like a rather scary concept to entertain.

I’m sorry if these five hundred words did not make much sense to you, I myself am having trouble figuring out the precise purpose of this post. But something as ludicrous as this is bound to happen when a whole life theory gets altered in one day.

Trust me, I will never feel the same again. I might feel bouncier now that I think I know the cause of the never-ending melancholy state of my mind; though even that can be a bit pressurizing for a sensitive soul like myself. I might get more depressed thinking that I shouldn’t be depressed knowing that I think that I know the secret of my being.

I think I should go sleep now.

Good to write after such a long time though. I think it’d be lovely if I were a regular here.

To be Invisible

I sometimes think my life lacks purpose, scratch that, this thought frequents my mind more than sometimes. This thought makes me; I am it. That would be a better description of my mind. I made this blog in 2009, by the name of Random Thoughts. I was more of myself back then. My thoughts were random yes, but they were mine. I was willing to express myself. I was not afraid to be me. To be who I was. What I was essentially made of. I shared my thoughts without inhibition. And I was fine. I was a happy person back then. Not afraid of being perceived as an idiot who didn’t know/cared much about the “popular” opinion.

It’s been six years since I wrote my first post on this blog. But I didn’t know what to do with a blog then, I was just happy to have found an outlet. I still don’t know what to do with it today. But I write more reluctantly, my thoughts are more random, my crises more severe. My life seems purposeless to me because of the high standards I set for myself initially. When I always knew in the heart of my hearts, I wasn’t cut out to become the person I always wanted to be.

I’ve been looking in the wrong direction all my life and now I feel lost. I don’t feel I can go back and to go further in the same direction would devastate me even more. What to do then? Just let it be. Stay where I am and expect it all to get better miraculously. I have ample reason to believe that this crises of mine will become severe with age. And as I heard somewhere, a crises at 55 is much worse than a crises at 35.

I changed the name of this blog because I wanted to be absolutely invisible. I wanted to become invisible on Google. I wanted to delete the memory of ‘random thoughts’ from my mind. But I guess in this day and age, there is no escape from who you are or who you have become. Does that mean then, that you cannot start afresh? That you keep going ahead in the same direction and forget about where you’d want to go instead? Does that mean you’re stuck where you are and there is no hope left for you?

These are my random thoughts. And they will continue. With a new name.

To Stay

Please stop this nonsense. My ears are now sick of hearing this noise.
I do not know how naive you think we are and I do not know how much of this foul game of yours we can endure.
But, I’m done.
I’m so done and so sick of this ridiculousness that you think you can easily get away with.
And are. But. For how long?
Life is an amusing thing. We think we cannot go on, we think one more day will be enough to drive us mad.
But somewhere deep down inside of us, we also believe that our life can somehow change, and that our circumstances will one day, change.
But that hope is disappearing fast, there’s so much unabashed pain wherever we look we feel like running away.
But to stay. And to endure. And to look misery in its eye and say, I’m not afraid.
To stay.

Bitter

Past is called the past for a reason. It signifies something that we have experienced but notice the emphasis on “experienced”. Meaning, it is never going to be repeated again; under any circumstances. Now man is a curious animal. For the first twenty-five odd years of his life, he spends his life anticipating “the future” and when that future is reached (not necessarily achieved) he feels lost. We don’t know what to do when we reach that crucial point in life, called the middle age, arguably the most controversial of all stage of life. Where our past is gone, finished, done with; and our future, the one that glares brightly in our face, is the future we never anticipated! Let’s face it. We never thought we’d get old, dependent or grey; it was not what we signed up for. We thought we’d stay forever young, forever capable, and forever beautiful. And then suddenly life meets us at this unimaginably ugly little place, called the middle age. It’s the point where our past is still so fresh in our minds that we want to run towards it, hoping to catch it somehow, to bring it back. We don’t want to our youth to abandon us. We struggle to say goodbye to our beauty. But the more we try to resist the more we move away from the remnants of what we once were. We become jealous, fiercely so; even bitter. We feel wronged by Mother Nature herself, when she always showed us all the signs. We saw our parents growing old in front of us and our grandparents die. One by one. But we never thought we’d get old as well.

But it is our choice. It is our choice to remain bitter or to make something out of the inevitable self that WILL meet us sometime in future, to meet it in grace. And no, it is not as easy as those self-help books sometimes suggest. It is a constant struggle everyday, every minute, every second. It is keeping the guards up against all the negativity that will confront us. It is to turn it away, it is to rise and shine. It is to embrace who I am, and embrace the fact that I am growing older. To stop reminiscing about what’s gone and to start anticipating the future.

Always. Anticipating the future.