Being Set Up For Life

The past few weeks have been spent voraciously reading through books as if there was no tomorrow. Currently, books are the only thing in my life that make me feel like I'm in an adventure. This is really because there's nothing else in my life that requires as much focus and attention from me. Books really do make me feel alive. I even felt my heart skip a beat. That has not happened with anything else, as far back as I can remember.

Being single and having to work to earn a livelihood is pretty normal. Having a dysfunctional home is also pretty normal, because everything classifies as dysfunctional these days. What is normal? Even television doesn't know the answer to that. And the Bible is no longer a reference book for life.

When I see my fellow colleagues, friends, and family struggle with the people in their lives, I can't connect to them. Why doesn't everyone just tell each other the truth. I did that and some people stopped talking to me altogether. That's fine by me. If you can't handle the truth, you don't deserve to call yourself a thinking individual.

Life hasn't always treated me with kid gloves, so why should I treat others the same way? It's not my way of getting revenge at life, or avenging some stupid notion that I cooked up. I really am serious about telling the truth as you perceive it. The truth that people know if staring them in the face, but don't want to face because it proves that they were wrong.

Nothing is liberating. Only freedom is liberating, and that too is a short-lived phenomenon before we rush to comply to the rules of living. The truth is weird and never what we expect it to be. Am I sad in life, yes. The reasons: my life is pretty f----- up right now, and I'm pretty much broke. My dreams have been sidelined to address the fancies of other people. Am I angry? You bet! The blatant violation of my rights and disregard of my hard work is sure to make people livid.

Then people ask me, why am I so closed off and distant? My dear people, becoming an ice queen in life is not something I wanted. It's something I was driven to be because of all the circumstances that I couldn't always control. After all, I was also growing up during that time and wasn't any wiser about how I could live my life.

I don't remember if I ever really loved anyone: boyfriend, family or friend. It's because I don't have any emotional bonds with any of them that make me want to do absolutely anything for them. My commitment to each person in my life has a limit that I will not exceed, no matter what the case. It's not me being an ice queen. It's just me trying to survive. I'm not suicidal because I really really value my life over that of others. So, this is my animal instinct, and nothing beats it.

So, why is it that people don't understand this simple argument? Because all of us have been under false expectations that some parts of life are really a party. Life has various parties, but it is never an endless party. Rich people worry about their riches, poor people worry about their lives. Everyone has good memories that help them through the tough times. In spite of inequalities, people get by because that is what they have always done. So, why try to make my life any different?

I do have dreams that I wish to fulfill during my time here. It's just that I have many impediments such as "commitments". Getting rid of all these commitments has not been easy, and I'm not even half-way done. I have a long way to go before I can get to life live the way I want it to be. It doesn't help that I'm going to turn 26 in September and I still haven't done much to get ahead in life.

I await the day when I will truly be free. That sentence does not have any metaphorical intentions. I really want to be emotionally and physically free. Every day I dream of this future of mine gives me hope to live on. There's much in life I am yet to experience and a dreary existence is the last thing I want to continue doing. 

Depression Sucks at the Soul

I was not clinically diagnosed as depressed but you know that there are symptoms. As a formerly sane individual, the patterns of my behaviour took a complete dive. It was not because I had changed as a person. I was still the same, goofy person. It was what I was projecting and internalising. That was the most dangerous part.

When you are in that state of mind, your gender doesn't matter. Your mannerisms and behaviours are more or less the same. Drinking, eating, laziness, dissatisfaction, aloofness.... I could go on but it makes me sad. It is not as if everything has completely become alright suddenly. It's screwed and very badly screwed.

And everything in the world is seeming to be alright. That's ok, people should really try hard at that. Facades are so important. Trust me, I know. It saved me from telling people how screwed I was.

Internalising my anger, disappointment, sadness and hurt was something I was a natural at. I would pluck at my cuticles and rip off the sensitive skin. I still do that. Once the skin is all out, you can't eat with your hands. The spices in the food hurt. Even salt does. The pink, exposed flesh hurts physically. Yet, when I am having an idle moment, I press at it and relive the pain. Just checking that I'm still human.

Pain is really bad. It hurts physically as well. The mental agony of my experiences are not easy to put into words. Where would I even start? People have mostly been good to me. So how do I tell them that there is something wrong? My facade of being a happy person and a sane individual is going to be diminished. What will happen after that?

Sometimes I think that my future is going to like those bleak, apocalyptic zombie movies. No, I won't be the lone survivor fighting off zombies and trying to save stranded humans. The scenes that I remember are always the lonely walks through the deserted city. That is my mind. There is a lot of clutter but all of it is important. Those desolate buildings give my messed up mind its character. How can I bring those walls down? Each window pane is a memory that looks down on me with pity. What am I doing in this town? I should be somewhere where life exists, where existence is not always at risk. A place which values human life and where there are people to help protect you.

That's in my fantasies. A part of what keeps me going are those questions my memories ask me. Is that a good thing? Probably not. I dream too much. I read too much. I see too much. How does one stop doing all of these and still be sane?