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.
4 comments:
whats the word for fear of happiness?
I often feel that a lot of people have no right to whine. They don't realize how lucky they are, they don't what they have, their lives aren't empty. Etc etc.
But I suppose a lot of people would probably envy the kind of life I lead too. Nothing's perfect, and the damned grass is always greener on the other side. The feeling that you're not who you are hits everyone sometime or the other. And I have no idea how to get out of it, because I'm going through the same thing.
That was deep and frank. And what's more, I could relate to it perfectly. I feel sometimes that there's nothing..real..left in my life anymore, and that hurts. But what hurts more is when you try so hard and no one notices.
*shrug*
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