Sometimes I wish I could be Nihilist

It came to me suddenly one day; I'm not what I thought I would be. I saw myself growing up differently, maybe I didn't know exactly how, but definitely not the way I am right now. I thought I'd always know what I wanted, I would have everything perfectly in control, I'd never let myself be unhappy, I'd stop myself if I knew I was doing something which would ruin me.

Funnily enough, I'm none of the things I thought I would be. I like being alone after being surrounded by a staggering number of friends, I like pushing people away who seem to love me, I like hurting those who come to me without apprehension, I like throwing things away and cling on to things that only make me unhappy. It's like building this whole world for yourself, always believing this is how you would like it best, this is how you were meant to live, this is how you should be happy. Except it isn't.

Someone said to me today, Your life is rocking yaar... people dream to live a life like this... shut up and be proud of yourself...


Strangely I don't feel a thing. It's like a dull, numb feeling, as if nothing really matters anymore... As if things I valued and gave importance to had suddenly faded into a background of greys and blues and colours I no longer seemed to care or know about. And I hum to myself and no sound comes out as a hollow silence seems to envelop me in its ruin. I still write in meaningless creative writing competitions about knives and lilac madnesses until my insides bleed in protest. I trudge past smiling faces, nodding as they greet the person they see everyday in me and I'm glad they see no change. I avoid closest friends as they quickly prod me for not talking as much as they usually would want me to, and I complain of a headache which is partly true and they ask me off hand questions and I dutifully answer them and they move off, satisfied. I'm glad to be of help, it takes my mind off over musing what the trouble is, and I hate it when someone asks what is it thats the matter and I come out with a helpless I don't know...

I'm a lot of things I don't want to be, and it hurts when people expect more of you and show their disappointment. I pretend to be indifferent at times but one day it builds up to this whole big ball of filth and unhappiness and hurt and discontentment and then I don't know what to do with it anymore so I hide it in me until one day it becomes too ancient to stink anymore and is stacked up as another dull remnant of 'temporary derangement' that doesn't immediately threaten attack once more.

And its not as if I want a clean, orderly life... I was never under the delusion that I could or would live like that. Its the other thing. The gnawing, pinching insidious thing that I cannot seem to rid myself of. But I will.

Tangle

She stumbled and fell. After she stopped retching, she wiped off spittle with the back of her hand and coughed. Her head heavy, she willed herself to get up. It was like a dark tunnel, and she was feeling her way about, uncertain where it ended but walking all the same. Atleast she was on her own.

aesuaN

It's eerie, living two lives.

DAV 870

The minute I stepped into the car, the familiar smell accosted me sending a whirl of memories rushing past my head. My hand automatically reached for the seatbelt as he revved up the engine— a mileage of 17, I’m told proudly—and I remember this is a vintage car, there are no seatbelts.

It’s been long, since I sat in this seat; there was a time I sat in it almost everyday, traversing all parts of this city I’ve grown to love and watched streets fly by as I was made to learn the names. The car stops, it’s a red light. I shift in the seat, have you grown fatter that you don’t fit in, two whacks while he ducks and we laugh as the signal turns green.

Looking out of the window, the world suddenly seems fresher. I think of times we laughed, not knowing where we would go, would we stay in touch if we left the school hours that forced us together, would we laugh at the same jokes that weren’t funny? We knew so much lesser of the world, we didn’t know we could choose ‘better’, would we choose better and glance indulgently backwards and shake our head?

We’re told we would find our own set of people once we grew older who we would ‘identify’ with more. Sure, we’ve all found people who’re closer to what we are, who’re possibly riding our wavelength as we burst into newer, freer individuals… I leave old memories willfully walking away, but this smell reminds me acutely of times I loved, times I didn’t ‘know better’; times I suddenly realize I miss.

The car turns around a bend, we are talking about the play I watched and he missed. Jam packed, I wish I’d reached in time. We talk of other things, there are things that seemed to need more time, more time, more time. We take longer routes, we ignore commitments, we pretend to be free; we feign ignorance of the late hour. Parked outside the gate, unwilling to be the first to acknowledge the hundred screaming phone calls that beckon us, finally we shift, I should be going… Yeah me too. An impulsive hug, and I hop out. He revs up the engine, I remember something and tap at the window. Puzzled grin, and he rolls the window down. Drive safely, you. Tongue out, I’m happy today.