The Long Absence Explained

The best way to explain my absence would be to publish all of the half (and mostly less than half) written posts I’ve attempted to scribble. Nothing felt good or right, neither do these words; I’m half a second away from sending this post to the black hole that is the draft folder.

This blog is pretty much a secret. Almost no one who knows me in real life knows about its existence. I’m flattering myself in a way by saying this, because in all honestly, no one would give a shit about it anyway if they knew.

The reason why I keep this blog and my words away from my real life, is because this has always been a refuge for me in the rain. I love the freedom of writing my deepest and darkest secrets, the parts of me I’m not too proud of, of not having to explain why I wrote what I wrote. It brings me peace like nothing else does.

Pardon the pandering, I’ll get back to the point. I’m going through a difficult time right now, and have been for a long while. And as always is the case with me, I’m alone through it all. I feel too unconnected to everyone in my life right now to reach out. I’m so uncomfortable around everyone that I don’t see the point in causing myself the pain of… opening up. Opening up requires vulnerability, trust, faith, hope, courage. I can’t find any of these in me.

Sometimes it saddens me when I look at my phone, especially in moments when fear overwhelms me so much that I forget how to breathe. When I look at my phone and there is no one I would like to talk to in such testing moments. In moments when the sky bursts open and there is thunder like I’ve never known. When everything falls apart, and so do I with it. I know by keeping all this pain to myself, I’m piercing myself with my own shield, but I feel so helpless.

And hope, that four lettered word that keeps us alive, that oxygen to our lungs, that blood in our veins… it has just disappeared for me. I tore it to pieces and threw it away in the wind. Had I thrown it in a recycling bin, at least I would know where the pieces are, and have a chance at taping it up. But it’s gone. I have no idea where.

I realise this still doesn’t explain why I haven’t been posting anything. It’s because I felt that whatever I say won’t really matter to anyone. No one would understand my pain. Or just how choked up with fear I am at the moment. How the stress is hurting my body visibly. Because I felt talking about failure would be more failure. Addressing my brokenness will only bring more ruin.

But, I’m me.

I need to write.

I need to pour out what has been simmering in me for so long,

even if no one understands it.

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Dear Diana

Living in pain for long,

should make you numb; or stronger,

for you aren’t dead. But it doesn’t. It didn’t; I’m

split into two, living in two parallels. Where

Jekyll and Hyde hate each other, and

tumble in the contradiction of how I

want to live and die at the same time.

And the peaceful blue of the sky

is forever a lie; for I

fail at lying or deceiving everyone, including

myself that things

would be okay.

 

© That Girl in the Fray, 2019.  All rights reserved.

The Land of Eternal Summer: Winter

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while now, but somehow the words coming out of me seem to be rotten. Like my core is shaken and something is amiss. Maybe it’s just in my head or maybe, or rather more likely, what I’m writing these days is pretty much chaotic garbage.

So what’s new in the Land of Eternal Summer? Well, for one the rain is over and the stars are back for me to gawk at every night. And even on days like today when there are clouds floating in the night sky, like smoke on a stage scene from Midsummer Night’s Dream, I find myself humbled for the piece of sky that I do get to wallow at before the haze takes over. Right the second before the shimmer of the stars is enveloped in mysticism and enigma.

It’s summer here but winter never leaves me. I think I carry it with me, along with my inability to function normally. Maybe I’ve absorbed it in the deep crevices of my soul. Maybe it’s a part of my bones now. For I cannot keep it at bay for too long ever.

The other day I wrote in my diary that all there seems to be in life is to stand and watch things fall apart. All we do is build sand castles too close to the ocean no matter how hard we try not to. And then, all we can do is put it back together, fix it, bear the disappointment, and wait for it to fall apart again. And fix it again. And watch it be swept away again, only to come back and build it up from the ruin.

© That Girl in the Fray, 2019.  All rights reserved.

The Land of Eternal Summer: Brokenness

My eyes lay on a scene that is pretty as can be and I forget to breathe.

That’s how it was when it all started. I used to say that this one good thing that happened to me, in a very difficult year, means that I’m on the wrong side of a parallel universe. Because good things don’t really happen to me. Especially me. For someone who has known winter all along, the brightness of summer seems too good to be true.

It was perfect in the beginning. I think it felt like that because I didn’t expect anything at all. And life kept me gasping at the purity of every minute as a result of that: because every turn was a surprise and every moment red letter. And then, everything changed.

In the midst of paintings and poetry and the stars and the talks of hopes and dreams, I began to expect. And that is what I account my ruin to. That is the moment of my downfall.

And every moment since has been a drop down on the graph. And no matter how hard I tried not to expect anymore, no matter how I tried to fix everything, it all kept falling apart like the ground was quicksand. And while everything was breaking around me, I fell and broke my toe.

That is how I know I’m still in the parallel universe I’ve been all along. My bonus round in Mario is over. I’m back in the arms of reality and it is a mess.

It is still summer here, but it rains everyday. My secret place is full of bugs and untamed grass. The walkways are all muddy. It’s impossible to lay in the grass and look at the stars. In fact, the stars aren’t visible most nights. I’ve lost the magic that once breathed in my soul. And my deepest fears are brimming like the thunder clouds in the sky right now.

But if there’s something I’ve learnt in these 26 years around the sun, it’s that the sunsets after the storms make the most beautiful views.

I’m trying to go back to who I was when I got here, the girl who saw magic in every speck of every moment. Maybe I’ll find her again. Or maybe I’ll grow into someone I was always meant to be.

© That Girl in the Fray, 2018.  All rights reserved.

The History of People

Looking back at the last 25 years of my life is a mandate around this time of the year, so cue in the introspection, the meditation, the mirror on the wall in the vacant empty hall.

And while history has repeated itself a million times in my case, and as I said in my last post, while it always ends with a circle, I sometimes feel this description, no matter how true in its essence, is an oversimplification of everything. Which brings me back to one of my favourite songs,

“I’m caught in the red and I’m fading to grey, a constant reminder that nothing stays the same, but nothing ever really changes.”

When I started this blog a lifetime ago, I was in my college library, as lost as ever, as lonely as ever, as broken as I could be, drenched in the drama of my being and those of the beings around me. And now that I sit again in my college library (a different one this time), it’s like I’m miles away from that life but still caught in the same web of its essence. The people and the drama. But so much more different this time.

So, the conclusion I’m forced to draw is that people are never black and white, they’re always a spectrum of grey. No matter how many times you classify and reclassify the ones moving in and out of your life, they tend to fall right outside everything. Even if it is only because of a word they say, or a simple movement of their hand.

Maybe I should accept that I will always be none the wiser when it comes to human beings, a real tragedy because I do hope to be a writer someday.

Will I ever escape this web? I think I’m on my way towards it. Which makes me analyse all my past mistakes and counter claims. And I accept I’m to be blamed for almost all of them.

© That Girl in the Fray, 2018.  All rights reserved.

The Land of Eternal Summer: A Month

So here we are, a month into the new chapter of my life which has been a whirlwind from the start. Somehow, it is the most beautiful experience I could have asked for. It’s broken and messy and dark and light and just perfect. But sometimes I forget to breathe in the middle of it all and it gets so overwhelming that I have trouble walking straight. And then I have to do what I did today: take a step back. In fact, run away from everything as fast as I can as far as possible.

And then guilt envelopes me because I realise that I’m wasting time. It makes things even worse. Because time is something I feel I’m short on, here and in life. I’ll be turning 26 soon and that phantom has been raging over my head since a while now. It’s like I can turn my back towards it but when things fall apart, it is all that I can see: the glaring red clock just ticking away in a room with silence so deep it pierces the soul. And then comes the self doubt and the notion that I’m wasting resources and someone else in my shoes would have done so much better than I can imagine.

It’s funny that I feel this way, particularly today, because last year this time I was having the most terrible day of my life. And feeling pretty much the same way that I’m doing right now. In the end it’s always a damn circle. You come back to where you start, you reach the place you dreaded and you’re left clueless despite having been through so much as to what to do.

I don’t mean to cry. This is the best thing that could have happened to me. But it’s difficult to keep the clouds at bay when it begins to rain and pour.

© That Girl in the Fray, 2018.  All rights reserved.

The Land of Eternal Summer

In the midst of summer, right beyond the horizon of the everyday crooked path I have walked until now, another chapter is coming to a close. A series of events have lead me to make a decision I never thought I would make so soon. And it is this very series of events that pushed me to this open door, with everything falling right into place despite all the kinks in the clockwork.

I’m moving to the Land of Eternal Summer to fulfil a conquest I’ve set for myself with one ultimate goal: to get a better life. I’ll be away from home in a foreign land where I know no one, like Cutie Pie in the Nicholas Fisk story we read in school. This is my initiation too, for I have never left home in the way that I’m about to. While google maps and quora have made life easier, I still die of anxiety thinking about it all sometimes; especially when I have to think about how I will have to live without my dog.

I think it’s metaphorically apt that I am moving to the Land of Eternal Summer, for it would signify the naive expectations in the deepest recesses of my heart that are still untouched by reality: a lad sans the sorrow of winter. A land of all I ever wished for, all the love I have ever wanted, all the success and sunshine I could ever dream of.

We all want our lives to be perfect. We all want to bask in the glory of the sun and always rise to new heights under the crystal blue sky.

But my tattered soul has learnt to understand that perfection is mythical and the sun can melt your wax wings if you fly too close to it.

And while I’m scared to death of a million possibilities, I am trying to love the storms the heat would bring.

 

© That Girl in the Fray, 2018.  All rights reserved.

A Stormy Day

Pure satisfaction cannot be denied when the weather is in perfect consonance with the storm in your heart. To see the wind gurgle up dust and leaves and just blast it off the heads of all things and everything. To see chaos when that is all you feel inside. To feel the anger of the sky in the thunder brewing in the air that is far too heavy with the grayness of emotions. And to be maneuvering through it all while the world seems lost in the sudden darkness.

Because, finally, you can paint a picture of your pain for the world to marvel at. Finally, your pain has meaning in the most unprecedented way. Perhaps, not that unprecedented, for paintings of storms have existed before. Maybe the most poignant way then. Because the world cries to you about the pin pricks in their feet while you have been suturing wounds they refuse to see. And if they do, they diminish it to weakness of the skin to bleed, weakness of the blood to flow, weakness of the mind to feel.

You have to be brave, so that it’s easier for them to hurt you again without guilt.

You have to let go, so that they don’t have to deal with the ugliness of your broken heart anymore.

You have to be okay with it, because you are meant to suffer as all the happiness in the world is reserved for them.

You have to accept that they will crown their selfishness while you lie in a ditch gasping for air right before you choke to death.

© That Girl in the Fray, 2018.  All rights reserved.

Note to Me

There are no rules for what you’re going through. And it is a lot. A lot for you to bear, a lot for you to share. So it’s okay to stumble and fall. To be bad at it in the end of it all.

Perfection is a myth, as are the rules of age and what ought to be. Your tempo is your own music, as it should be. Give in to fear, give in to tears for now. Give in to the need to give in. Stumble. Lean. Reach. Fall.

And then face the fear head on.

When you’re lost, in the moments that are beyond their costs, in the moments you don’t know what to do: listen to the fear. Let it reason. Let it fill you up. And then do the exact thing it tells you not to.

© That Girl in the Fray, 2018.  All rights reserved.

On Facing Tough Times All Alone

I’ve been absent from my blog for a while now, and within good reason. And here I am, running back into its arms the first chance I get, by that I mean the first time in a long time my brain isn’t too blocked to spell out my feelings, literally.

Last month has probably been the most difficult months of my life. I was already going  through a rough patch in December, and it reached a whole new level by the end of January. And by the beginning of February, I was weeping my heart out and trying to get through one of the worst things that life has flung upon me. Weak. Broken. Alone.

It was the time I needed someone the most and I practically had no one to turn to truly, although the words along the lines of, “Do let me know if I could do anything,” were vomited over a hundred times by a hundred different people. No one cared enough to understand what I was going through or hold my hand. People just said it to check the chore off their list, or at least that was how I felt. All I wanted was someone to hold me while I sobbed into them, someone to let me voice my fears and help me calm my mind without passing judgment, and there was no one I could turn to. I’ve never felt more alone or vulnerable in my life.

I get that people have their own lives and own wars to fight. But the thing is that I’ve always been there for them, no matter what. I have been sensitive enough to let go of my selfishness in order to help them bandage their bleeding wounds. And that I think has been one of the biggest mistakes of my life: I have put other people above my own needs in their bad times and expected them to love me the same way. Or at least appreciate what I did. But people lack the common decency to acknowledge the wounds someone has undergone sheltering them.

So what do I take away from facing this difficult time on my own?

I am strong as hell. Anyone can rise up to the challenge despite their fears and pain.

I never want to have to be this strong again. I faced hell, all alone (yet again), and I just want to rest.

I need to start respecting myself and my needs more than I do. A little selfishness is needed to save that part of your soul you give away, that will help you in your time of need. No one really gives a shit about you other than you yourself. But if someone is there to hold your hand through it all, especially without you having to ask for it, hold on to that person. Never let them go. Because that is rare and people don’t do that.

© That Girl in the Fray, 2018.  All rights reserved.