The things we say (conversation excerpts)

"I don't know..you know.. I sometimes get the feeling that I'm restless because my soul's so impatient. It wants to hurry through this life because it's so eager to start over."

-To my best friend, on discontentment

"To break a person on the inside all it takes is love and then it's just you incarcerated in those thumping red walls of pain."

-In a shrink session

"I'm everything you're not because I can always sense what it is that you need me to be..when you're in one of your aspiring moods..."

-While talking to a friend

"It's like telling a kid to look for the rainbow, and then spraying him with a hose pipe in the middle of a parched summer to tell him what to anticipate when he goes searching for a pot of gold."

-On aspirations

"Of course.. there's always a better phase, before another wave of turmoil and anguish hits you.. and then everything that came before will always pale in comparison..."

-On our hardships

"It seems far fetched doesn't it? Like someone decided to take a trip to the moon and is stopping at every shiny thing on the way..."

-On distracted ambition

Intrepid Hauteur

I think proud people are brave. I think it takes a lot of courage to decide to forsake what comes easily to you so that you can stand by your best friend: pride. Perspicacious beings are fully aware that the price for being aloof, detached and indifferent will be their lone figure at the end of it all standing by itself on the crutches of hubris. That is why I call them brave. Because they are undaunted by that pathetic image.

I give pride the cachet of "best friend" because I have always felt that pride will never let one down. There may be countless times when a person may relinquish pride to get the better of himself and others, but, you can't trick something that's such an intrinsic part of you. Sooner or later, you realise that you never gain all. One is never able to fill all the spaces with gain acquired from the barter of pride. In all those forsaken niches is where the leftover pride resides. It is then that it begins to work against you. Because you let it down to try and gain something else, sacrificing the dignity of it's solitude for spurious comfort. That is why, when it resurfaces to claim lost ground, you are worse off than before.

Love Letter

Dear You,

I write this to assauge the wounded sensibilities of the demons of my soul. I desire the last word.It has never mattered and it never will. The attempts to salvage will always be futile. It is something I will never regret, although I refuse to cherish it. It has ended in disappointment, yes, but that was never supposed to be your responsibility anyway. In my more lucid moments, I may just look back and smile.

With lots of leftover love,
Me

Happy Birthday To Me

I think it is more important to be content than merely happy. Today on the 15th of June, I feel gratified. I am surrounded by people I love and I am friends with those that care. It has been a gloriously long and lazy life and I've completed two felicitous decades of it today with no regret. I feel blithe.

Metamorphosis

I recently read something on a phenomenon called the ‘quarter-life crisis’. I didn’t know the term existed till yesterday and found that it applied to me perfectly. As my 20th birthday approaches I’ve been feeling like a hamster that’s running on its wheel and suddenly realises that there’s no point; that the cage isn’t getting any bigger and if you topple off the wheel there’s nothing else to do. So you’ve got to keep running but with this nagging feeling in your head that’s bringing out your various diabolic moods.

I started reading Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis when I was in high school. I remember I picked it up because I found the first line so impressive: As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a monstrous vermin. I wasn’t able to finish reading it but the line stayed with me. And now that I’m about to complete two decades of an unproductive life I want my metamorphosis to be something that’s not associated with the thought of repulsion (I think in the book he turns into a large beetle). I want it to be something else. I’m not sure what right now but I know that if I don’t do something about this mini-crisis I believe I’m experiencing, I will be swept away in a tide of angry emotions and futile tears.

People are selfish. I’ve realised that. I’m selfish too. I’m trying not to be. I’m trying to put other people’s perspective before mine but somehow I’m unable to. With me, it’s becoming a struggle with what I know what’s right and what I feel should be right. Everyone’s different. I think I’ve become more thankful than resentful of people as I’ve grown. I’ve come to appreciate their sense of tolerance towards me and my ideals, and my tempestuous nature and attitude towards most things in life. Their patience is awe-inspiring. Sometimes I become so ashamed of my sulleness when I’m faced with the people I love the most standing by me like rocks in the sea with the water lashing about them in a storm.

My opinions are strong and I’m trying not to judge people on capricious thoughts. Someone once summed me up as a person who can take a push or two but can’t tolerate a shove. I agree. I wouldn’t want it to be different. The thing is, the whole thing is a farce. Restlessness is being poured back and forth in some part of me like someone trying to cool a hot drink. At the same time it’s difficult taking initiatives because the change is scary. Resentment against the past and the present fades away in the face of the insecurity I face when I think of the life to come. My own standards scare me. The tiny modest little part of me, tries to keep me grounded to be able to face the various failures I know are in store. It’s wrong to want nothing. It’s not right to be stupidly brave either.

You’re laughing one minute and crying the next. You’re unsure of most things in life and are wondering whether you could have changed something in the course of the time while you were growing up so that things would have turned out different. You resent being spoon-fed but you subconsciously crave it. You wish that there was someone holding your hand the whole time. It’s like a child at the beach. It wants the adults to be nearby and hold its hand while it tests the water. Once it sees that its only ankle deep it plunges in with no thought. I’m like that child. It’s reverse. I know the sea’s shallow at the edge and I don’t want anyone holding my hand, but I know it gets deeper as I wade forward, and I can’t swim. I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want to be let alone and at the same time I don’t want to let go. I hate the feeling of being unsure. I have grown up to like control. I like some semblance of organisation in my life and I know that once I start to walk forward I will have to leave various aspects of that behind.

I am willing to start the process of metamorphosis. However, I wish I could be sure of knowing that a phoenix will rise out of the ashes of this forsaken security and fly away confident of containing within itself the power of rebirth and healing.