Today I write about the past couple of years of my life till this present date. Haven’t been very active on the blog lately, got caught up with the least important things and then a very general realization struck me where I was left wondering, where did all my days go? I haven’t done anything so important so as to stop writing, neither has anyone asked me to stop. Why haven’t I put any efforts to string together a couple of words, charm people off their seats? Simply, I’ve been lazy. In the absence of any inspiration, motivation, push or a pull, it becomes very difficult to keep up with the things you love. The drive to keep writing just for my own sake, my own sanity was fading away so I kept away too. Too many distractions in the form of social media, purposeless friends and the realization that I am entitled has led me astray.
I started this blog with a purpose to write, excuse my English, bullshit. I really thought if I weave together things randomly, it will start to make sense. During that time, I was deeply under the impression that I was head over heels in love. And, while I was being hurt, drowning in pain, I consoled myself saying that love requires all this pain. Love needs to drain you out to be felt. So, I kept up with it. I let the person hurt me, unintentionally I hurt them too. The initial posts were mainly related to how men were douchebags and they deserved to be slapped etc. All my anger was flowing out as words, with the sole intention of hurting. I may have been highly successful too, I wouldn’t know anymore. My days were spent thinking about ways I could spew venom against people hurting me, not once realising that I was making them and helping them hurt me. Days passed in tears, never getting out of bed, smoking most of my lungs out. Slowly picking myself up, only to be bogged down again. Wasn’t a pretty sight. Somehow I gathered strength feeling the existence of my family, friends who were around. My ears heard the things my eyes couldn’t see, heard the slight buzzing of people around me judging me, passing comments on who I was supposed to be, since I was undefined amongst humanity, I was the one shunned.
Little by little, picking up pieces from so far away, bringing my own self together, hearing the ones close to me applaud me for pulling myself into a shape, not an amoeba anymore. But I was happier being the amoeba. Bits of my self that wasn’t becoming were simply discarded and another part would regenerate. Now I had to conform. While conformation wasn’t my thing, I was getting used to a schedule. Moulded myself, was trying to get rid of my past, forming new relations. In all of these new ventures, somewhere slowly, I was losing my own self. Didn’t know the words to describe myself if ever I would be asked to. The disappearance of my ground led me to become weaker. I wouldn’t stand for either loyalty, truth or honesty. I was falling in and out of love, stringing people along, discarding them on the way, meeting new humans. It would be just one of my whims if I wanted to be a good human or not. So many years passed without me ever getting to know if I was my own lover or not. I did whatever was asked of me. Be a good daughter, be a good friend, be a good partner. I did try. Sometimes I succeeded, mostly I failed. No one had the patience to sit me down, tell me how humans grow, how hearts grow, fill themselves with love so that shattered selves pieced themselves together. I had a soul that demanded to be felt. That was turning out to be a problem. Not only for my own head, but for people around me. Lovers, friends, parents all seeked to stay away from someone like me. Me, who’d be labelled as mad by someone, or naive. All I ever seeked for was pure, unmitigated, complete fall into love. I had never realised my intense need for it, my life depended on it. I went through men like the yellow pages. Some managed to hold my attention for a longer time, while some faded away into the distance. Thinking I was in love, I tried to rescue my own self. Making myself believe that I had in those moments was the best that I could ever do. Again, no one had ever told me how to go about a path of self-actualization.
All of these feelings had never surfaced so high that I’d notice what I was missing in life. I had never given these things any thought until one day when I fell so low, I couldn’t look at my own face for days. That low point in life was caused due to too many people around me, me being so stone hearted that I wanted to go through life living like an American teen. And I did everything and even more. Life was all fun and games and people were available for my full use. No sense of remorse. Life went on and then I was hit with a train at full speed coming at me. Then I looked at my face and faced myself finally after years. Asked the person staring at me, “who are you?”, and the only reply I got back was “Don’t you know?” That was the end of the conversation. I sat down and cried my eyes out wondering where I had lost my own self. Got up and finally decided to make things right. Everyone who I had ever kept around myself fearing rejection and loneliness were let go. All I had ever done was meditated for 10 mins for about a week. I made changes for my own self. And then I met the love of my life. Never realising how he came along. Him being the only human to have ever existed to see me for exactly who I am instead of what I showed myself to be. I, one forever on the move, slowed down and saw the sun for what it was. I saw everything around me and every puzzle that was missing it’s little pieces, formed the canvas on which stories would be written.
He was as frail as I was, as sad as I had ever been. Though we found solace in each other’s words, knowing if we do not make our togetherness happen, everything would be futile. The rains, sun, trees, moon, stars, everything would a failed attempt at being beautiful. Each and every word of his, the tone of his voice, the jump in his walk, the tiny hair against his skin which glowed in the sunlight, these were things I noticed. I had never done that. Never gave any other person so much of my eyesight and attention that I’d register things to write about. His hugs became my dreams to melt into, like eiderdown pillows. I cried in them. When I realised I had reached home, after searching for so many years, the want of holding onto him surpassed every other feeling I had ever felt. All the fear, rejection, sadness melted away with a single smile of his. As a cynic, who never believed in the concept of marriages, though I had always agreed to it when it came to being asked about it, I wanted to marry him. I brought it up and I pushed at it. What he was doing to me felt the same way that Frodo must’ve felt while wearing the One Ring. All the world’s powers, confidence, my will to succeed everything slowly built up in me and then I felt like I could take over the world. He opened up my spiritual paths to higher existence, agreed with my disagreements, made me into a person I myself have become proud because all he ever did was love me. And all I ever did was love him. We sustain it like a baby that’s unable to walk or breath, we infuse life into each other, knowing that the world may get us one day and we will only have each other to look up to.