#1 Today I am fixated on the the houses far ahead, the colors on those countless walls that are yet to be carried away by the winds. Today I am fixated on the wrong choice of shoes, the red sore blooming on the fingers of my feet. Today I am filling my eyes with all that I refuse to see otherwise. I like days like these. They give me the proof of life outside of me, proof that I am part of this world. Days like these let me know that even if there is nowhere I particularly have to go, my feet are sore from walking and the roads are bit weathered. So it must mean something. Slowly I am changing the world, just as the world is changing me. So it must mean something. These are the days I realize that I do not just look at the world, but kiss the world while hating it in my heart. That world doesn’t just disown me, but it keeps looking at my childhood photographs when no one is looking. It all must mean something.
#2 My bed sinks a bit more everyday. It feels as if every day I am carrying, dragging another new person into my uncomfortable sleep, to my messy life. There is no blood, or signs of resistance, so it must a deal of mutual benefit. I hope so. I wake with only my skin, with only my dry eyes. So again it must have been someone I mistook as you. Someone who knows how to keep their end of promise, someone who doesn’t look back at the weight they are leaving behind in my new scented sheets. With you there was warmth and suffocation and never-ending want to be something more. With you there were eyes that stared at me as if I am a road you are forced to walk on. With you there were things I couldn’t be and shouldn’t be. Without you, there is me and my imagination that draws you body full of life on the photographs taken of unmade med and undecided mind. What do I want really?
#3 The one love? The truest kind? The rarest kind? The kind that is made of eternities? The kind that is hellbent on making that big change? I sort of had that. “I had that love” would be my answer, only when I am asked to keep my answer short, which I am often asked. In the answers of 500-1000 word limit, in the answer where 10 marks are at stake, in the answers only you would have asked – I wanted my only love to be true somehow, no matter what it took. Do you know what that means? It means there are hazy days, holding lies close to heart, illusion that I fed with my own blood that make appearance in this answer. The answer involves knowing everything that is wrong, knowing everything that shouldn’t be, knowing the end that I won’t have. The answer involves cutting short my words, even when there is no need to, even when you are here and you are listening. The answer is pretend that was true, the tears that I didn’t hate as much as I should, the person I liked a bit more than I should have. Always wondering if love would feel like love if it was not me and you standing on both of its end.
#4 There is soaring in the skies. There is running away to the ends of earth. There are, of course, moons, and sun, and stars for taking. There is a wish list for every age we failed to love properly. There are your past loves, there are my past pains to talk about till late night. There are things to eat and relish and complain and things we will never make the way we should, things we will throw away even though they turned out well. There are stories we will make up because we can, because they are fun. There are stories that will tell thousand times even though we won’t be believed. There are night we see only each other, there are nights we realize the pain of not being loved. There are permutations and combinations that I was always poor calculating, that you were never interested in. There is a day like this where we have nothing in our pockets to count on, no possibility, no scenario that could bring us and place us together in this life. This is the only day that I didn’t want to arrive at.
#5 You are only as dangerous as much as I let you be. If I let you be a mistake, you are just a humiliating past to be erased. If I let you be the friend that should have remained a friend, you are just a human among thousand others, a human I dealt with with immature idea of carpe diem, with a stupidity I once called honesty. If I let you be the reason of my happiness, you become the reason I should never smile again. If I let you be the incarnation of all that destroys, you become the plague in my heart that will not end till I die, till I give myself up. The more I let you be within the scope of my life, the more I regret letting you in. I never try to think of you as someone I associated the word love with. That word lets you become my breaking heart, my lungs devoid anything capable of giving life, my mind slowing down and stuck at the worst part of my life. So when I think of you, I think of you as the result of taking the idea of selflessness, of selfishness, of wanting to be part of this world, of taking “it all must mean something” a bit too far. Because irrespective of what you might have been for me. Now you are only as dangerous, as important as I let you be.
Outside my body, outside myself I feel I can be the the girl who walks to a stranger, smiles and asks his name, who keeps her name in her mouth, and doesn’t throw it away along with the chewing gum in the nearest trash can.
Would she hold his hand? I think she would. But even then would she be reminded of the the poem she wrote in seventh grade “the ugliness of people dripping from their hands at nights, holding my breath, crushing my 27 teeth under an unwanted kiss, promising to kill me next time“. Probably not. That poem doesn’t exist in this world, let’s keep reminding ourselves that.
So yes, she holds this stranger a bit more closer than she would have deemed wise if she saw it how I would and she would make promises- the kind lovers makes before they know what love is. He will ask about her life and she will have no sad story to tell. So she would talk about the recent window shopping- the things she can’t have and things she can’t get and she will not be talking in metaphors for once.
For once the one she wants to love wouldn’t be obsessed with the wounds on her skin to love, to treasure, to poke, to mock, to dig down further, to own and to burn. He will probably say something sweet about her smile or maybe something boring about his work and she would smile a bit more in either case. Because she can smile here, in this world, in front of him, without having to think about what his each word might hide, what she is over-looking, what will be the tiny details that will come back to hurt her, what will be the undoing of her heart. She will smile cause she won’t have learned to be hate people beforehand, she wouldn’t have learned to love a bit too late.
She would tell him that he is lovely, and the blush in his cheeks will make her heart skip and she would love him for loving him and not because she is looking for an easy fix to her faltering mind.
Are they finally drowning? The sails, the flags, the songs the party, and the expensive backless silks. The rings and guns and blood shining. Always shining. They are finally coming for us. We will again have someone’s face in front of us at least for a while and we will sing songs that they have no choice but to listen to. The cries and shrieks and the stories that we had saved in us will not go waste.
They have not yet seen us rotting feets and feets below them but somethings take time. The water will fill them but they will never grasp the slow violence and its finality. They will look above at the lost sky, they will not know what they are looking for as the concepts of hope and god and saving becomes grayer in their head. They will keep struggling feeling all promises becoming breathless in them and they will miss the point of saying goodbye. We always do.
Darling, they are coming our children, our neighbors, our dear strangers, our ministers, our wood, our sky, our eyes, our new memories. Now we can die together and actually die and not be haunting blue in this green ocean. I missed living dear but I missed them more – everyone, everything taken away from us. We have waited patiently, wishing them life. We have prayed for them to stay away from wherever we are. But now they are coming and I cannot help but selfishly smile at seeing everything coming back to us.
I turned another corner and walked into another house that I knew nothing about. The owner, the god of this land stood there outside in the garden telling a child how to create more beautiful loops, how to somersault, how to find more worms, more of everything. An adult placed like a talisman that couldn’t keep me or what I bring with me away. He didn’t even notice the grave that I carried in me, the open pits in ground awaiting more bodies.
I walked to the front door and rang the bell thinking, wondering what must I not be seeing in the person I see as a fool. I wonder if the graves in him didn’t love him back as well. The door opens slowly and I wait. I let my willingness to wait announce to her that it is me. She makes me a wait a bit more- that is the nature of game we are caught in.
Seconds and hours I spend on her couch, waiting for the commotion outside to end, for “the happy family on a sunday morning” to end. She has four brother and an almost sister that they never talk about. She reminds me this a few more times so that on the mental map of belonging and similarities I find this unnamed sister closer to my role.
They rush in like a flood, like a rain gone wrong- all these bodies that I am not supposed to see. “They are perfect”, I thought to myself. I thought of my mother, the anger in my home, the counting of countless miseries, the coarse harsh words that filled my eyes, then filled my mouth, the gentle sunsets that drown only dreams. “They are perfect”, I think, “for someone living in the same world as me”.
She tells them about my scholarships, about my fragile upbringing, about the art that runs in me. She tells them all about the things that they like. For today she has made them into me. I smile and say a little too less. I smile as if I mean no harm.
But I know I am here. I am here and there is no escape from the fact that eventually I will sit in this room with my love and with a glitter pen running out of ink. I will draw, deepen the cracks that I already see.
Such is my nature. Such are the songs that I live on repeat.
It was like magic running the highlighter, the bright crayon over the sepia hands of her. She didn’t complain or cry as we ruined another photograph of hers, as we tried to hide the evidence of her failed love, our failing life.
We cut her out, moved her away from the one who looked like us. We placed her side of story, her half of heart in the albums. Albums that felt lighter now that the responsibility to remember only the good, its difficulty was no longer our business.
We shredded few faces of his, few others we drowned in ink. His face was the reason we couldn’t look at ourselves, the reasons of all the hurting words we learned so fast.
After we ruined everything for good we stared at each other, and saw the tears we should’t be having in us. This wasn’t how magic is supposed to feel. Why? Why was there no thrill, no relief in what we had done? Isn’t it our turn to be free from the one who left?
i will read you another story so that you may know that faults and lacks of humans are common and in abundance, how ordinary are expectations-not-met. i will read till my eyes close till you can see all there is to see, till you see everyone around you who are disappearing into silence, till you see all the kind words you could have said to them, till you see that these words, that make you cringe, how important they are how easy they are to say, how difficult to mean till you learn to mean these words that save lives, till you learn to listen to others, till you grow the eyes that can see the world before it is lost.
though there is another story for another day about how to save yourself from all that you have saved.
The brightest star of my childhood dreams sits on the set of a sitcom and tells jokes about me. He wins few hearts and breaks few guitars- becomes an artist of some kind. He fills the screens with the love he only spoke about. I become a bit more irrational in his stories sometimes so much, that I feel no wonder when he forgets who I really am. It feels natural when I don’t look at him when I talk of love, or when I don’t talk about myself. I trace the distance between the dreams that he had and the person he has become and find myself stuck between choosing and abandoning the same person with different heart. How helplessly we have drifted to a life where our best doesn’t do much, where my undying love only causes me pain, where your eyes filled with dream only makes you blind, where the death of our love and the tear from my eyes are the only thing that gets you closer to what you want.
It snowed all night. All night I created stars for your eyes. I bore the weight of the roof as you slept, cried, ate, smiled, memorized dial tones, stared at me like you stare at screens with static, paused expectantly as you told me the story about your friend who is filled to brim with sugar and seems bit odd when he tries to smile a little bit more always, filled me with a momentary fear of whether you saw the corners of my lips tearing up everyday.
I felt again the illusion of love breaking, its crack trying to find my spine. Again you ran to me, trying to hold me, trying to look over all the parts of me that you don’t understand.
I slept and felt the snow of years settling on me. I felt your wings fluttering around in my head. I held the hands of god in my tiny fingers and said with a smile, “make me a flower, if you can” “make me something that is beautiful in her eyes” “give me another sorrow, something simple, something that can be understood and loved by her” “let me look at her, without feeling the breaking in my heart”.
After a long long time, I am back with another award post. Roshni has nominated me for Vincent Ehindero Blogger Award. I am really thankful that she like my work and considered me worthy of mention on her blog. Means a lot.
Rules – Thank the person who nominated you with a link to their blog. (done) – Make a post of the award (with a photo of the logo). (done) – Post the rules (done) – Ask 5-10 questions of your choice. (I won’t be posting any question as I won’t be nominating anyone) – Nominate 10-30 other bloggers (or more) and notify them. (For last few award post I always skip this step of nominating people. Most of the people I follow don’t like to included in awards and stuff like that, so yeah. And it is too much work to filter out who do like it. So I have given up on the step of nominating.)
So here are the answers to the questions Roshni has posted:
What is the most interesting aspect of the place you belong to? To be honest, I have never felt a sense of belonging to a specific place. The place that my family home is, the place I was born, the places I have lived are all different. We were on move so much, we never stayed at a place for more than 2-4 years. The place I am living currently living in, Bangalore, is the longest I have stayed somewhere. I do love the convenience of Bangalore, but again I do not have a sense of belonging to this place. All the places I have been I have fond memories of those places, they have contributed greatly to my childhood experiences. All these places, places I won’t ever belong to, places that will forever be in my memory nevertheless have taught me that people at their core are basically same. (It is one thing to read it and other to actually know it.)
Do you like quotes? If yes, which quote defines you? If no, ignore the question. I love quotes. I love quotes because of the beauty with which they deliver a sentiment, a sentiment that can live without the context. I don’t necessarily think that quotes are the ultimate truth though. If there are 50 quotes in support a sentiment or a thought, there will 50 other quotes against that thought. It doesn’t necessarily prove anything but it is still beautiful.
I am not entirely sure if I can objectively describe myself in quotes. The quotes that I can relate to either make me sound more grand than I am or more pitiful that I am. So the quotes that you see below are just a compromise between how I see myself and how I guess the world sees me.
Quotes that define me:
“They say it’s good to let your grudges go, but I don’t know, I’m quite fond of my grudge. I tend it like a little pet.” – Liane Moriarty
“I’m not sentimental—I’m as romantic as you are. The idea, you know, is that the sentimental person thinks things will last—the romantic person has a desperate confidence that they won’t.“ – F. Scott Fitzgerald
“She knew that was not an honest prayer, and she did not linger over it. The right prayer would have been, Lord . . . I am miserable and bitter at heart, and old fears are rising up in me so that everything I do makes everything worse.” – Marilynne Robinson
“Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
For an accurate description of me, this is how my sister defines me :
infj (mbti) + cancer (zodiac) + sprinkle with some pixie dust & lots of love + lots of sarcastic humour
Following is a quote that defines my persona that I have as a poet (also, suggested by my sister):
“Today, too, I go on living just enough Keeping in step, wearing my feet out just enough The sun makes me breathless The world has stripped me of all I have Without a choice, with no other alternative, Under the moonlight I am picking up my scattered self.“ -“4 O’Clock“, BTS RM &V
You wake up in the morning to find an alien(or Thanos) sitting on your chair reading your favorite book. How would you react? (No, I’m not mad; I do envision such scenarios ?? ) I think I would just go back to sleep. I am good at living in denial. I don’t normally imagine such scenarios. I do daydream a lot, but my day dream would never fall into the category of fantasy, it is mostly about real life as it is. My daydreaming is mostly about what would happen 5-10 years from now, different scenarios of my future or of the people I love, or about a possible story that I am trying to flesh out.
What do you enjoy more- reading, writing or story-telling? I like reading the most. Though I love writing and story telling as well, but I feel I have too many limitations in that. I feel I have a very narrow vision and hence very narrow range of what I write. I don’t really mind it, because this narrow view, is just me being me, being obsessed about something that I am interested in. But even though I like being confined to specific topic and specific style, I cannot negate the fact that they are redundant to some degree. I love reading most because I never know what I am in for. Every well-written book surprises me, moves me, makes me think in a way I never could have otherwise. So yeah, reading would be the most exciting thing.
What is the knowledgeable/wise thing you have learnt in your adulthood? Wise things I learnt in adulthood, that have not necessarily eased my life, but anyway:
Importance of reputation I have to work for the reputation I want. It doesn’t mean I am trying to become someone I am not. But if I fool around all the time, obviously no one is going to take me seriously. So even if I don’t get my sleep, even if I am sick or in pain, I will complete my work, I will be on time, I will not let down people. My dedication and sincerity lies in my actions and not in the words I speak casually. It doesn’t mean pushing myself for the sake of my image. It means if I mess up, everyone would know that I have my reasons. My mistakes will be mistakes, not something that I do just because I can or want to. It also means I don’t expect people to believe me or take my side, if my previous behavior makes their disbelief in me justifiable.
Another quote: “I think both of you are going to have to take this to heart the way anyone who has ever changed anything about their lives has had to take it to heart: by making it not just a nice thing we say, but a hard thing we do. It’s how the real work is done. “ – Cheryl Strayed
Minding my own business I cannot save everyone, not everyone needs saving, I am probably not qualified to make such assessment on other people, and I don’t think anyone is qualified for that. My morals, my likes, my wants, my decisions are only my business and not something I should project on others. Exception – I will voice my views of people who don’t know how to mind their own business. The key here is reciprocity.
Being content Even though I might say that I don’t expect much in life. It is all a lie. I expect a lot. My standard are too high. My standards were higher when I was younger. I wanted a perfect family, perfect friend, perfect love, perfect job, and a perfect life. Not that I ever had it. At no point in my life I experienced perfection. Maybe that’s why I wanted it so much. But with time I realized, I didn’t need so much, I wanted only a little, I just wanted those little things to be true and permanent. I did’t want an adventurous or enviable life, I just wanted a peaceful life with things that I care about. I didn’t want a perfect person, but a person who is kind and understanding and on same page as me. I didn’t necessarily want that person to be my love or soulmate. I didn’t actually want a big dream or purpose. I tried to want all the grand things, because I was mistaken that what I have is my worth. But now more than anything I wanted only one thing – to wake up with hope, passion, and love for this world. I just wanted to be capable of loving and being gentle to this world. Once I would have once considered this as settling for bare minimum. But now I realize I actually need and want only this.
Quote: Hodaka: “Dear God, if you exist, please don’t take anything more, and don’t give anything more.“ –Weathering with You
Which blog post of yours is your favorite? (Kindly provide the link as we all can read and enjoy.) I don’t have favorites among my work. Half of my work is just a bit better than the other half, that’s it. So I am just listing here some poems that I had forgotten I had written and were sort of good:
Suggest 3 books for the readers. 3 books. Soooo tough. That is a really small number. If I select one book, it seems I am being unfair to other books. But I must select as I can’t list all the books I have read till now, even that is not possible. So anyway, here are 3 books that I can suggest you. These are books that have taught me something or have moved me, made me see and feel the world in a different way. There are many other books who have done the same for me, but let’s just consider this a starting point.
Name a fear (if you have and if you’re comfortable in sharing) which you want to overcome. I think all the fears that I have are there for a reason. I don’t mean to get rid of any of them because I know exactly why I fear what I fear. It is not an irrational fear but a rational one. (If you are vaguely interested in the sorts of ridiculous or nor so ridiculous fear I harbor, click here.)
So yeah that was all. Since we are at the end of the post I would like to thank Roshni again for the nomination and for liking my work.
universe fireflie has tagged me in this really sweet post about ten things that make me happy. I will try to answer them to the best of my ability, but it is going to be tough. If you are aware of my writing, you would have noticed that I am more than capable of writing about sad depressing stuff. So writing about things that makes me happy is a bit weird for me. So before I make this more awkward…let’s start!!! WARNING: This is a really really long post.
In no particular order…
My Sister When I think of happiness, my sister is the first person that comes to my mind. It would be an understatement if I say that I am extremely fond of my sister. She is my favorite person in this world. I love how sweet she is, how much curiosity she has for the world, the genuine interests that we both share. Any day, anytime spent with her is bound to be filled with happiness- may it be the serene calm type of happiness or laughing out hearts out type happiness. She is crucial to my happiness. I am lucky that I happen to be the sister of my best friend. 🙂 Afterthoughts: My sister draws really well. I am so proud of her that I can’t help but promote her work here. She will probably kill me for this though. Here are the links to my sister’s work, if you are interested : WordPress, Instagram, and Youtube.
Books I love to read. I am not sure if what I read is intellectual or refined enough. But I like what I like – mostly fiction and poetry. I think reading is what led me to have love for words and even for this world. Books make me believe that there is a meaning in everything, that life is meaningful. It is the kind of assurance that life by itself has never been able to give me. I wouldn’t categorize books into a means to escape from life, but rather a new layer to life that makes me more tolerant of people and world. I love buying books, reading them, finding more books to read. Even the sight of my bookshelf, the thought of all the books that I am yet to read, even adding a new book into my “to read” list makes me feel excited. Afterthought: On that note, here is a quote from the book I am reading currently: “Running might take her forward, it could even take her home; but it couldn’t take her back–not ten minutes, ten hours, not ten years or days. And that was tough, as Hely would say. Tough: since back was the way she wanted to go, since the past was the only place she wanted to be.” ― Donna Tartt, The Little Friend
BTS I will try not to make this too long (because I know I am fully capable of turning this into a 8 hour presentation on BTS). I love BTS. I love their music, their performances, their passion, their ethics, their character, etc. I cannot possibly explain what effect they have had on my life. I would say they have deepened my passions, made me believe in the goodness in world, and made me believe in the goodness that I am capable of. My life is thousand times better with them in it. They have touched and changes millions of lives through their music, through their existence. I wish they also find the happiness that they want. I low-key love ARMY – BTS fans who have showered them with all the love they deserve and who try to protect them as much as they can. Afterthoughts: I think almost every person has one artist whose works resonates with them. BTS just happens to be that artist whose work has most effect on me. I think we should treasure that, always remember that feeling of looking at life with a person who just happens to think about life the same way we do. It is not about supremacy of one artist over other, about loving the artist that made you understand and love ourselves.
Music My love for music is equivalent to my love of books. Maybe I love music a bit more than books. Each song that I love or like is an experience in itself, those few minutes makes me forget myself and sometimes remind who I am and who I was. I can listen to the same song many many times and only to love it more. I do not have a favorite genre or anything. I think it solely depends on the song. Afterthoughts: -Even though I try to explore as many songs as possible in as many language as possible, but most of the time I am not aware of the “popular” stuff. You might even think I am living under a rock. Now, I do not believe that popular songs are bad or good. I am not a person who is against mainstream music. It is just that I am so caught up in the things that I like that I do not get time to even look at other stuff. I sort of live in my own bubble. – BTS gets its own separate point here, because my love for them is on a whole new level. Their music is awesome. But they are so much more than their music. Stanning BTS is a way of life.
Writing I think I am a person who has zero confidence in herself. I do not think I am especially gifted in anything. I am not particularly intelligent or beautiful or funny or creative. And I take writing in the same spirit. I do not think I am exceptional at writing, but I love writing. I love the fact that I can write average good stuff some days. I love the 2000 lines of drafts that will never make to a post. When I write, I love how much clearer and focused my head is. I love my writing more when someone else find comfort in my words. I agree that writing with a regular job is difficult and bit pressurizing but writing gives me such joy, that I don’t think I can possibly quit writing. Afterthoughts: I once heard about a rule that one cannot estimate themselves correctly. So I am probably worse or better than what I think I am. I hope my writing is better than what I think it is.
Internet There were so many things to list here, so I collectively grouped them as “internet”. But then who doesn’t love internet. It is sort of basic thing that a lot of us take for granted. Having access to so much content, so much information makes me happy. I love the hour that I uselessly spend on looking at memes, the hours I spend playing and upgrading stuff on games that will take me nowhere in life, the hour I spend on watching videos, all the silly hilarious stuff that I retweet at 2 am, binge reading everything about MBTI on Quora, reading random articles that I will end up forgetting anyways. Though it is just a stream of easy to consume media, but still it does make us happy in some ways. And that happiness is significant in itself. Afterthoughts: I am aware everything is not picture perfect on internet. Internet depresses us also. But with I have learnt to leave online spaces that make me feel bad about myself uselessly. I am not good with interacting with people online, that is one thing that I cannot enjoy. It is not about whether these people are friends or strangers. I just have a feeling that I have nothing to say that the other person would be interested to know about. (That’s the reason that I silently like your posts rather than leaving the comment you deserve.) I don’t like to stay online for long also. The moment I finish doing what I had in my mind, I switch off my data. Because I just can’t handle all the notifications. I like the dear old SMS to communicate rather than the new efficient apps with awesome features.
Series/Movies/Stories Watching series and movies is another joy to me, something that I spend a lot of my time on. Every thing I have watched, every character that I have watched is equivalent to a life that I have lived briefly. I don’t do binge watch though. I like some time to think over everything. That is the pace I am comfortable – to watch something and reflect on it, think about it, to anticipate what is yet to come for the whole day. I think that feeling the story grow in you as you go about your everyday life is an essential part of the whole experience, a part that adds more importance to what I am watching. Afterthoughts: Again as with music, I have no idea of the popular stuff. I just see what I end up finding. I do have list of stuff to see but that is based on word-of-mouth suggestion from people who like the same things as me. I do not have a favorite movie or series or book. Naming favorites is too tough for me. For each story, each actor, each director etc. has their own charm. That would be like comparing apples to oranges.
Everything emotional/sentimental/sort of spiritual I do not look like an emotional person, but I am. I am an INFJ with Cancer zodiac, what else can you expect but an over-sentimental person. I like anything that seeks to explore or talk about these sentiment, anything that values human emotions and shows how complicated and simple it can be. Similarly, I have same feeling about works related to spirituality. I enjoy the company of people who genuinely have something to talk on these topics. I am not into talking about people but talking about ideas. Not the ideas that change the world, but ideas that helps me understand why we feel the way we feel, ideas that give me insight into the tiny limited world. Afterthought: I think I am not one of those people who can or want to change the world. My mind never wanders into that direction. All I think about is my understanding of world and how to perfect that understanding. Sometimes I think I am a narcissist and self-absorbed person because of that.
Lazing around/Sleeping I don’t react well to stress. So I am always looking forward to a good sleep or a day without schedules or deadline. A day that I can waste away makes me happy. Even though lazing around for me again means books/music/series etc. Even when it is not busy it is still a busy life.
Being Busy As much as I like lazing around, I like being busy more. Because of my sense of being less than average and constant feeling of not being good enough. I don’t handle free time well. I feel that no one needs me, the world will work without me also. That I have nothing to offer to world. It is a very sad feeling. So I try to do my work properly, try to do by best in everything. I like the days that I have work myself to point of losing all my energy. So that I can enjoy all the things I love (everything mentioned above) without guilt. Afterthought: It is not that I cannot sit still or introspect without driving myself to the point of sadness. I like introspection a lot. But having days and weeks of time for just introspection makes me feel like a useless person.
Things that almost made to this list but didn’t (and why):
Food I used to enjoy eating a lot. I still love good food. But I can’t eat or enjoy it as I used to. Something has changed in me, maybe I am growing old. Now I don’t have that much craze for it.
Friends I don’t think I am good at friendship. I loved my friends while I was with them. But then apart from the brief time of companionship, there nothing much left of those time now. My expectation from friendship I think is a bit too much. I think in the long run friendships don’t give me happiness.