Another b’day, another unsolicited post. It’s become a tradition and since I am a bhartiya nari I have to uphold it.
So what have I learnt this past year? Absolutely nothing, a tiny voice says in my head.
Have I done the things I set out to do? No. Have I changed in any way that benefits me? Prolly not. Have I started making healthier choices? Hell no.
But I exist. And for now that is enough.
The italians have this phrase (made popular by Eat Pray Love) dolce far niente. Although I am pretty sure it isn’t a substitute for “you’re just being lazy, buttface” even if I’d like it to be. It’s the sweetness of doing nothing.
I’d like that. To be nothing. To be a cherry blossom in the wind drifting, stark white against blue. To be the tree that bends. To be that first drop of rain hitting the earth and creating that absolutely lovely smell. To be that lone stone rolling in a vast desert.
I’d like to be free from the shackles of time and dates and people and places.But I would also like to wake up and do more and be more. Be enough.
As I move forward every year is a cruel reminder of the time gone by.
But I exist. And for this fleeting moment that is enough.
Well, on to the next one!
Sometimes I trace
blue words on my arm
what they would feel like
is what you told me
when I said
I don’t love you anymore
is what you said I was
when I wanted to hear your voice
is what I screamed
before it went dark
Do you sometimes imagine someone standing behind you when you look up in the mirror?
Because I do.
She’s just a couple of blurred lines, too impatient to be sharply visible. She’s prettier and she’s thinner and she’s wittier but she likes the taste of blood. She has a cackling laugh that echoes in my head when she has left.
She loves reading badly written horror novels and revels in the irony of it. She likes reading them aloud too as if her voice was a gift to the world. It’s as bad as her laugh, really. And it smells.
I always know the ending.
‘Walking a path’, ‘a hard journey’ or the colloquial ‘haters gonna hate’ are some of cliches attributed to living one’s life. Why reduce this monumental thing to a frivolous phrase?
Life is something that chokes you, performs the heimlich and then chokes you again. Funny how this applies to love as well.
It’s something that breaks you until you can’t get back up and then forces you to get back up. How the fuck does that count for a lesson? I haven’t learned shit. How do I make it leave an impact? How do I change?
Yes, yes, change is gradual blah blah blah and asking questions is first step et cetera but is it really the first step if I have done this a million other times?
And I can laugh now, joke around, hoping I still get my letter but now my fantasies border on schizophrenia.
Making the same mistakes has now become my forte. So, forgive me if I resort to cliches but
It’s all downhill from here.
We’re all pawns
in your game
and we’d die
willingly on your board.
What’s worse is that
we secretly want to
because you are a mystery
we all want to solve.
I know I’m next
but I’ll die
on my own terms
as a queen.
i.e rant of a high schooler this seems like. becoming bitter in my misery.
A little drop
of many little drops
streaked red in my pain
and I see blue all around.
Now I’m begging you
please don’t let me shatter
Well it wouldn’t be my birthday without me writing a post about it.
Winds of change, change of winds, fart noises.
My sense of humor has devolved to that of a five year old’s. That could also be a direct consequence of watching all those Minion movies.
Yes, I plead guilty to possessing minion accessories. I should be jailed.
I’ve lost a few along the way, people, not weight. And I’ve gained a few as well, weight, not people.
But for once, I’m optimistic and I’m scared too.
But I know that I will survive.
So here I am, giddy like an anime schoolgirl, overtly joyous, extremely anxious and riddled with the need to excessively punctuate.
I’m just a tiny bit less sad.
And I’m smiling tonight.
PS- Highlight of my night, the google doodle.
I started reading again.
This wasn’t premeditated. Yesterday morning I woke up early and I plucked a book off of my very dusty bookshelf. A green cover, bold font, stack of pillows and a glass of lemonade was all it took.
And I finished it in the morning itself.
It had been a year since I had read a book but it felt like a decade. So was it a joyous reunion? Did my fingers rejoice at the feel of those seemingly never ending pages? Did my eyes glisten as I read those tiny words crammed into a page? I think I need glasses.
Anyway, it was a confusing, mixed state of mind that I ended the book in, incidentally which had nothing to do with its contents.
After years of being an introvert bookworm, I had begun preferring my laptop to reading. And I actually uttered the following words: I’d rather watch the movie than read the book. Sacrilegious, I know!
I literally stuck to my precious laptop like a leech. I lost myself in hours of movies and TV series.
I think it was because I forgot how to imagine, to build a world inside my head.
Or I just became impatient.
Here’s hoping this sticks.
I’m overweight, bordering on obese. And this is relevant. I don’t state “uncomfortable” facts just for fun, drama and pizazz. Well, maybe.
The thing about being obese is that everyone has an opinion. Frankly, just substitute “obese” with “a woman” and that statement still rings true. But the most critical people I meet are oddly, women. I don’t believe they are being malicious, maybe some of them are. But that’s how we have been wired.
If I’m eating something: “Look at her devouring that pizza. That’s why she’s so fat!”
If I decline to eat something: “OMG, are you on a diet? You’re dieting now, wow.”
Yes, I’m fat and yes, I’m decimating a pizza. I’m a wreck, sure. if you’re so offended, don’t look at it.
No, I’m not eating the namkeen you offered. No, I’m not on a diet. I just don’t like the look of it. I get to decide what I put in my body. And yes, I’d rather have a pizza.
Okay, things got away from me there.
I know I should do all the things you suggest. I know that I’m living an unhealthy life and that being obese is not ideal. Some of you are friends and you have the right to tell me so because I have opened my life upto you. Your intentions are good and you worry that I’m not fit. I agree, being obese is not healthy and neither is being stick thin. And you don’t want either for me.
To those of you who aren’t, it is none of your goddamn business. Don’t randomly come up to me and tell me of some “ayurvedic medicine” that helped your brother’s wife’s third cousin lose weight. It’s not okay for you to do that, not on the metro, not on the street, not bloody anywhere. Don’t subject me to your ideal of beauty, don’t chip away at my self esteem like it’s your right to do so because you have eyes.
I’m not a blot or an unsightly mark. I’m a fucking pearl and the world is my oyster.
More to come. Let me know what you think. Oh, and Happy Women’s day! (belated)
Well. This blog is titled “THIS BLOG IS DEAD”. WordPress lets you put a tagline beneath it. And the thing is, you Have to be witty or it’s not worth it. So, thanks Obama!
However, I take a challenge like Indian Politicians tackle national issues. First they create hype, then they blame everyone else, and finally they try to make a half-hearted attempt at solving it. So these are mine:
THIS BLOG IS DEAD
#1: Just like Batman’s parents.
Yeah, I went there. I’m heartless.
#2: Just like this blogger’s sense of humor.
Damn, this should have been an obvious first. I really am losing it.
#3: Just like yo mama!
Things took a dark turn here so I decided to stop.
#4: Just like its blogger’s hopes and dreams.
Well, we knew I was depressed. So I chose this. But I keep thinking…