Winter Musings

Some days are simply amazing. Some days leave me teary and brooding over silly things. Some days are so busy that I don't have the time to think about those silly things.

I wish these silly things could be brought to a logical end.

It's really funny how some people can change your life and the way you see the world. It's also really funny how we hold on so hard to them when they begin to slip away. Because at some point, they all must go away, right?

Life is strange. I'm not even sure of what I want from it anymore.

Emotions.

So many emotions, they will overwhelm me soon. I could've gotten rid of them as soon as they appeared. I could've tried. No, I let them be, I let them grow, I encouraged them. I let myself believe in them. I threw logic and reason out of the window. I let my emotions paint me into what can only be called a mess.

And one fine day it all hits me, and my pen traces the words this is stupid, in barely legible writing, yet again.

The emotions remain. They will continue to torment me.

Last month was a whirlwind of birthdays and emotions and tests and stress and tears, all of which resulted in frayed nerves.

I see the two of them nearly every day and form opinions that no one understands, or agrees with. They simply add to the clutter in my head. I've been putting this and that off for so long, because I can't think these days. Unfortunately, I also care about you enough to make my head explode once in a while. And you have no idea, so this makes me look like a pathetic little mess.

September, treat me well, please.

August

It's been a while. We seem to be wandering in circles, and your circles are just like mine, but we aren't getting anywhere. Meanwhile, life must go on and the usual things demanding my attention must be attended to.

I know I shouldn't hide anything from you but there'd be problems with that, just as there are problems with everything else. And then I wonder why I feel so stressed out.

As much as I don't want to, I could safely ignore you for...a month? Two, maybe?

A few hundred photographs. I looked at them, one by one, permitting every little detail to find itself a permanent place in my head. Soon, my field of vision was full of vivid colours and distorted shapes. I relived every little memory I could recollect. Photograph after photograph swam in front of my eyes, each one bringing back a flood of memories. Recent memories. I blinked furiously to suppress the tears that were long overdue. I knew that it would never, ever be the same.

***

"How long do you think you'll carry on like this?"

It was one of the several questions she asked me. Her voice was definitely distorted over the phone. But I knew that tone. It was the one I always use when I want to drill sense into her. She was trying to do the same thing to me, because I needed it.

I couldn't answer.

Last Week

The pages of words and numbers and odd symbols in front of me don't always make sense. Nevertheless, they're engaging. I like having something to do. Moreover, it keeps my mental faculties from brooding over things that will probably never be; events that, in all likelihood, will never come to pass.

***

We talk and talk about trust, and many other things, besides. Your trust and my trust and his trust and her trust and how I do not trust people easily. I don't trust any of them, I shoot back. Some part of me wonders why. I'm glad I can trust her. And her. And so many of them. And him, of course.

I've always hated how I seem to have walls around me, walls that are hard to breach, if not impossible to breach altogether. Yesterday, I realized that it probably works to my advantage.

***

I did not get hurt. Or emotionally blackmailed. Or played with. Or any of the horrible things they've been through. I'm glad.

Finally, I know I've made the right choice. I don't care if the things that my over-active imagination envisions never happen. I know I'm safe, and perfectly happy.

A few things I'd like to yell at myself for.

Get all the facts right before you blame people for things they haven't even done.

Don't read between the lines all the time, for goodness' sake. And when you do, you don't need to get worked up.

Can't you send him to the back of your head for one day? Is it really necessary to give him so much of your attention?

You've always loved yourself for not being judgemental, but when you develop an irrational dislike for someone  and you know it's here to stay, no matter what other people say; aren't you being a hypocrite?

He hasn't done anything wrong. Do you really have to be so mean to him?

Isn't it a little stupid that you care about him so much, but he's blissfully unaware of this?

You're being silly. You've disappointed me.

A Realization

I'm told I possess astonishing levels of maturity and an ability to keep a level head in almost all situations. Normally, it takes extremes to make me lose my cool in public. Somehow, none of that works with you. Your mere presence takes away all of it, only to replace it with plenty of hyperventilation and excitement and most of all, silliness.

You've achieved nothing short of a miracle.

This is a point where I've understood that everything doesn't necessarily work out the way I want it to. Acceptance. Acceptance of something I'm not even entirely sure of. There's this voice in my head that keeps telling me I'm being silly, getting all worked up when I don't even know the truth. I'm too afraid to ask, strangely enough. I wonder why. I've never been afraid of asking you anything before.

Back to acceptance. No tears, no tantrums, no rants. But if I ever learn that this is true, I'm afraid I'll hate you for not telling me in the first place. Because I thought telling me was obligatory and came with being friends.

This does not mean I don't feel for you, however.

*sigh*

The past few days seem to have whizzed by rather quickly. Normally, I'd complain, but I'm rather satisfied with how I've handled things. I seem to have figured out how to tackle massive amounts of work and stress without drowning in it. None of this would've been possible without M. You're the one who got me to make a beginning. And then, kept me going even if it meant tolerating my frequent meltdowns. I owe you. :)

My head does feel a lot less cluttered. I'm happier than I've been in quite a while. It doesn't take much to make me happy. Lack of stress and talking to you are definitely on the list. Though the latter hasn't been happening at all lately. *sigh* Oh well.

After All That

I should just accept the fact that I'm terrible at this. 'Nuff said.

I don't like stress. No one does. It does not permit me to function normally.

My desk is so full of utterly random objects that I think it's a miracle I'm able to get any work done at all using it. I'm poring over books and my writing stationery is everywhere and my laptop is adding to the clutter. I suddenly feel like doodling but I can't seem to find any pencils at all, and then I remember that I'm supposed to be directing all my energy towards the mountain of work I have before me; I look up and see the 'Zzzzinnng' written in bright yellow on the wall, a happy reminder of certain memories and the fact that I must focus, and that allows me to get back to work; but my phone's buzzing every few minutes with questions about this and that, and then I realise you're in my head again and I can't concentrate with you buzzing around like static, and I want to talk to you within the confines of my brain but I'm reminded yet again that I need to work. But now my eyes are tired and I decide to give up and go to sleep; but even then you're flitting in and out of my dreams and when I wake up I'm really not sure what you were doing, and you're still buzzing around in my head like static the whole day.

Two words: mind control.

"I need to learn that from you."

I laugh it off.

Part of me knows that this is something I do not possess, I've simply learnt to keep a level head in social situations.

***

It's late, and I know I should go to bed, but the promise of yet another conversation is irresistible, so I force my eyes into remaining open. They've begun to follow a pattern now, proceeding along similar lines every time. Surprisingly, they're never monotonous.

I admire how some people can talk without having to think their sentences over a million times before they actually let the words escape their lips.

***

I've reached that annoying stage where all the tiny, insignificant things remind me of you. And I'm forced to face the reality of what an epic fail this is.

It's nice having you in my head.

Enough said.

Winter, December & Everything Else

One, two, and three; all too soon, a hundred million words reduced to mere pretence; a few sentences, spoken once in a while.

Too much, too soon. Maybe I should have waited, given myself some time before diving headlong into what now appears to be an utter, absolute mess.

But it's done now and there's no going back to where we began. Nothing is the same anymore. And in spite of everything, I cannot deny the fact that you still occupy my thoughts as I sip my morning coffee, feet resting on the cold, dewy grass; eyes trying to see through the veil of mist in front of me; feeling the sun's mild warmth on my back. And I still manage to let my face betray the tiniest hint of a smile.

I can't write any more. Or even talk. Because when I try to do either, the words I go to great lengths to find simply melt away. And I'm left behind, lashing out blindly, trying to chase words that won't wait for me to catch up. Ideas clutter my head, thoughts float about, but the words continue to elude me.

Temper Tantrums

Sometimes you just have to be angry.

I usually keep my temper under control, locking it away in a heavily-guarded vault somewhere in my head, because custom dictates that we converse politely with other people as far as possible. But there are times when the door of the vault gives way, and most of the frustration and the venom rushes out with all its ferocity. And as the old memories come back to haunt you, faithfully recalled by your over-efficient brain, you just have to let yourself loose.

I guess you deserved it.

Static

It was yet another rainy day. Cold, bitter and cruel.

The dull, grey skies were of no interest to the thousands of people who crawled the earth below, each preoccupied with his own worries; his own joys; his own grief. Some worried about their futures. Some worried about their jobs. And some worried about the next day's meal.

I could hear shouting. Loud, harsh voices. Shoving, pushing carelessly, they made their way through the crowd to their destination. And there was chatter. Incessant, unnecessary chatter. A sea of voices, waiting to be heard; wanting to be understood. The cars behind us honked. The rain lashed the earth with renewed ferocity, the wind threatening to uproot the trees that lined the street.

But then, you were there. And for that split second, the rain, the people, the voices, the cars, all of them disappeared into oblivion, leaving behind a lull of calm. A whisper of silence.

For that brief moment when time stood still, we were us once again.

I was once a doll

Has it ever occurred to you that I am a living, breathing human, with feelings of my own? I doubt it. To you, I've always been something akin to a live doll, that walks and talks and breathes, but possesses no capacity to experience emotions of any kind; you were under the impression that you could do whatever you wished, and I'd willingly bend into submission. I was just an experiment. You could dictate nearly every action of mine. My feelings were nothing short of a joke. You could play with them like they were insignificant toys, just the way you played your cruel, harsh game with me, your adorable little doll.

Oh yes, you'd pretend to care on the countless occasions during which I shed tears, but of course you didn't. I was your doll. You could give me even the most blatant of all lies, and if you wished, I'd believe it. I was a plaything. You'd watch carelessly as I stumbled and fell, not caring to help me get on my feet again. I existed for the sole purpose of your happiness. My own had no importance whatsoever. Who cared what happened to me anyway?

And for some silly reason, I let this happen.


 I still continue to be mesmerized by the empty words that escape your lips, accompanied by your cold, pretentious voice.

But I've promised myself that I'll never be the doll again. And I wish you'd fall off a cliff. It'd make my life a whole lot easier; I wouldn't have to experience the longing and pain that ensues whenever you strike up old conversations, day after day.

One year later.

I can't believe it has been a whole year.

I've always been one to resist change of any kind. I'm rather terrified of anything to do with it, to be honest. Small changes are somewhat manageable; it's always the more important ones that cause my mind to fall to pieces. That being said, moving last year came as a huge shock to me. The very thought of leaving practically my whole life behind, and start afresh in an alien place seemed abhorrent, inhuman and cruel. I surprised myself, though, by taking it way better than I had thought I would. True, there were those moments when all I wanted to do was pack my bags and go back home. (It's rather funny how I still refer to Bombay as 'home'. People never lose the opportunity to bring this discrepancy to my attention.) But for the most part, I managed to pull through. In spite of hitting numerous obstacles along the way.

It has not been an easy year for me at all. I used to be adept at shrugging off stress, but I'm afraid this no longer holds true. Stress has turned my brain into a disorderly, chaotic mess. My mind is perpetually filled with myriad emotions, ranging from joy to sorrow and everything else in between. And there's the issue of worry. Worrying thoughts reside in my brain like parasitic worms; consuming me bit by bit, and eventually destroying me. School, assignments, exams, university. These four words play over and over in my head in an endless loop; like a broken record that nobody cares to turn off. My mind has become like a busy road junction; where things come to a complete standstill if even one such shadow of a thought refuses to move on its way. This often keeps me awake till the wee hours of the night; contemplating, analyzing, reflecting upon every minute detail, until the last vestige of energy left in my being is consumed, and my brain drifts off to sleep.

Much as I'd like to say that I've learned something worthwhile over the past year, I cannot. I assure you that I haven't. I still continue to make the same mistakes; still continue to expect the same things from life, in spite of knowing  very well that the odds of me actually getting them are very slim. Experience is supposed to be the best teacher, but I simply don't seem to learn.

And then there's you. You're nothing less than an infectious disease, slowly consuming every cell of my brain, and you need to be eradicated from every single chamber of my mind for good. You need to be shattered into a thousand pieces so that each piece may gather dust in its coffin in some remote corner of the world. So that I can stop lingering on old memories and indulging in wishful thinking. So that I never repeat the mistakes I made.

This is what I seem to have become, one year later. When will I ever learn?