I recently had, by far one of the most tumultuous and trying time of my life. To many it may seem nothing at all, but to those like me (that is, overly sensitive and even more romantic in all and any aspects possible and not to forget obsessive compulsive) it was oh so difficult.
I left a place I called home for 5 wonderful growing years. And with that I dug up a whole lot of me I’d both forgotten and hidden. The skeletons from my closet didn’t fall. Oh no… they came crushing and tumbling down. And with it a whole new and confused me!!
I’m someone who has been writing on diaries and journals for a decade or even more. Each of them as important as the other. And so while packing to leave, loads of books came “unearthed”. Some really old-some new-some forgotten=all mine.
That’s when I decided to sit and read all of them-chronologically. And boy, did I sit for long!!!
I read me-and also saw things in different perspectives. I saw me from different angles and mindset… and yes I did learn a lot. I can say I have changed mentally spiritually and very much physicallyJ, but oh boy, emotionally I pathetically remain constant. And thus all the growing and changes in those other departments, well they’re but overshadowed.
I have matured-you bet I have, but the fact that I remain this blockheaded daft romantic hides this big factor. I can’t say I’m bothered by this so bad that I hate my EQ. No, I’m not “that” bothered. Neither am I proud of this fact. But to hate me for being “that”, well as a student of Psychology (which I studied for hmmm “exams” for all those 5 glorious wonderful blah blah years), I know that it’s not healthy for me to do so. However unlike how you’d want this write-up of mine to end, I still haven’t changed. I kept and still keep going to square-one!!! Clichéd as that might sound. And if you haven’t yet understood or at least grasped a bit of this complex emotionally unstable me… please read on. But before anything I must warn you that I am an even more complex writer. Vague, sudden and totally and so very disoriented. So please bear with my rather very unconventional way of writing.
As you would’ve realized, I have totally and inadvertently abused my ability and most of all my desire to write. And by ‘ability to write’ I don’t mean to write well but the simple fact that I can write. My liaison with writing goes real deep. Like all wed in bliss, I have stuck to my writing in sickness and in health, in richness and in poor, in sadness and in happiness and anything and everything. It is after all-my lifeline-my base. And being the melodramatic queen that I am, I needed an outlet for all my emotions, both fresh and old. I write to myself things no one would dare tell me on my face and things I wish so bad they would tell. And one fine day I’d read them and either laugh or cry at my insanity and theirs. And also realize all over again what a fool I am.
I wish I could take you all on a journey through my journals… or maybe just a peek into my world to show you all what a fool I truly am.
Off late I have become bolder. I don’t hesitate to say it out loud to all willing to listen that I am a BIG fool. How’s that for a starter?
Sometimes I wonder if I have MPD… well not a serious case but, well a mild yet not to be ignored one though. You see I’m but 21 and yet I can be 2, 12, 30 even 80. By the way these numbers and not just numbers but ages, just in case. I sometime wonder who I really am. I am the bubbly one to some, the over cheerful one to others and to many and most, well the B**** too. I have lots of acquaintances and friends and I know for sure that I’ll be making even more in the years to come. Oh one more thing, I had a relatively very good friend I once thought was my soul mate, who disliked the fact that I knew far too many people. He would jeer at me and in this bitter way mock at that fact. And that confused me and made me dislike the me too. Sheesh I say!!! But now I don’t care. I realized that it’s all my choice and how I handle things. In a way he taught me in his very own obscure way to appreciate myself. Back to the topic. Well and so with these many people in my life I became conscious of the fact that I am not the only one with multiple roles. Yet in all honesty, there was none as complicated as I am. There were some with serious ego problem who’d go to any extent to prove themselves. There were some who lived up to their infamous reputations and that was sad. Then there were those exactly like the ones our Moms warned us about. And they are so good at it that at the end it is you who’s made to look like the fool for trusting them, for believing in them and for trying to make them better. Trust me I know.
I had a friend who once told me not to trust those who say “trust me”. It is true. I know so because he proved it himself. And with these types of people and so many other types, I realized I am not the only one battling with self identity. Please don’t think I’m trying to justify myself. I am not. I totally and wholeheartedly think and know that I am no better than them.
Write-ups are meant to educate, entertain or encourage the readers. This one, however, begs to differ. She and I say she because I’d like to think of this as someone personally having a conversation with you, is here showing you a glimpse on one ever confused and complex. And also because she could easily just be you or someone you know.
And she’s holding out a part herself, waiting to be reached out for.
I’d like to end with this pathetic attempt of a poetry I wrote 2 years back. It is as vague and crude as can be… exactly how I’d want you to see it.
Well here goes nothing: