Thank you for the words.

A few weeks back I came across this Blog, this absofuckinglutely amazing blog. /it blew my head off and shattered my mind. Some of the things the writer said were so true that it seemed impossible that someone around my age could get things so right. A friend’s friend, all I wanted tod o was ask him for her number and speak to her and tell her, I know how you feel and I get everything you are trying to say. I wanted to thank her, repeatedly for her words because she gave words to my thoughts and it made me so happy to think that there were others in the world like me. That I wasn’t the only one who felt such strange and awful and amazing things. Then I found out that the girl had passed away, and I couldn’t believe it. It scared me, shitless and broke my heart. Anyway here’s the link to the blog if any of you want to read it.

http://www.untold-unsaid.blogspot.in/

I didn’t know her. She was a friend’s friend and good lord she was brilliant. I have always felt that writers are forever, and though she was no Hemingway she was pretty damn brilliant. I just want to Thank you Aparajita Roy Paul. I don’t believe in afterlife and I don’t belive that she can read this but I feel the need to tell the world, or my imaginary audience how truly wonderful you are. ( and no, I won’t use ‘were’ because artists are forever) So thank you for everything.

A Letter in my drawer

February 1st, 2014

 

Hey, it’s been a while. How have you been, how are things? Is college still as new and shiny as you thought it was or do you now occasionally get tired or even bored of the same old conversations and the same shit over and over again or do you embrace the rut? I’m getting better. I don’t feel like crying the tears which refuse to come out anymore, I feel like the hurricane of emotions is slowly turning into a drizzle and will soon just be the muck in the gutters, uncared for and ignored. I’m okay.  Getting better. I feel like I did after the first break up, but it’s easier because I don’t have to see your face day in and day out, and because I can no longer revolve my every move around you or how’ll I bang into you in the middle of a street, out of the blue. I cant do that anymore. I’m trying to distract myself. I go out and I try to make friends and I did succeed (till an extent). The other night I spoke to this guy till 5 in the morning, I told him about you and what had happened; didn’t give him the details but just told gave him a rough outline of our timeline. I haven’t spoken to anyone since you till 5 AM, I felt like I was cheating on you. Kissing other guys is different, that’s my way of getting back at you and in my weird diabolic mind it does make sense though in reality it doesn’t because you don’t care. I enjoy being promiscuous, I need the attention from you, I need you to yell at me and I need you to ask me to stop but it’s too late now and I can’t stop.. I feel like I’m drowning in my own personal hell. It’s so hard, I kiss others and end up texting someone back home, someone I trust saying that I miss you and that I wish you were here. Sometimes I don’t get myself, but then again neither did you  and since you are logical and rational I must be pretty damn fucked up. I feel like wasting away sometimes and it makes it easier, it strengthens the walls and I honestly don’t care about those guys. I care for them, some of them but it’s purely platonic none of it involving the heart. I don’t let anyone penetrate that deep. Pun intended. I don’t want to hurt them, any of them but sometimes it’s inevitable and though I make it absolutely clear in the beginning somehow it doesn’t always work that way. For if we humans knew to control the workings of the heart, Our lives wouldn’t be such heartbreaking tragedies. Our timeline which spans over two years is frankly very weird. I am scared of saying things now, you know, things which maybe misinterpreted or just interpreted. I’m so very scared and you aren’t here, I now think that you are dead (metaphorically, Ammu’s idea) so I talk to you in my head and have imaginary conversations with you when I crave your company which isn’t very often but I do crave to see your face. I miss it. I miss the fact that you were there, somewhere in the shadows, in the background, I miss having that tiny ray of hope. That too is gone now and it kills me that that something which i thought was so profound and felt so fiercely for, was all this while in my head. But isn’t that all life is about? Life is all about ‘the idea of something’ and how we run behind that idea, day in and out for to find that the idea of it was much better than the reality which is so very different, but we go on lying to ourselves, convincing ourselves of things otherwise, disbelieving what we see, imagining glances which had never passed, words which had never been uttered and end up believing something that never really happened. It gets harder with each passing day and you are vanishing, from my memory. You are decaying and turning into an idea of you and are no longer you. I now, only remember the altered happy memories, the sad ones are deep suppressed and inaffective. Life does go on and I’ll be okay and I’ll like someone once again, one day. I know that. But i’ll be scared to be so very passionate about it and reckless and impulsive. You know why didn’t’ out of sight out of mind’ work with us, with me to be specific because you are so deeply rooted in my system that I can’t filter you out. You introduced me to the things I now love, and I introduced you to the things I Loved and none of them are truly, completely mine anymore. The music I used to listen to 3 years back and my playlist now are two sides of a coin. Apart but joined together by that rim. My favorite movies which you quote and which i quote day in and day out were actually both our favorite movies, our favorites as individuals. My favorite books aren’t my favorite books they are that book he thought was boring, the book he loved, the book he could relate to, the book he didn’t read. All my favorites, all the things that make me happy, all the people I love, all my happy memories, Home, My dog they all revolve around you. Isn’t it weird? How can one separate the yin from the yang? You’ve been the catalyst, you set things in motion and now you have walked out of the stadium saying that it’s my turn to make it big. How can I make my mark, when the very force that drove me to do it when i was in the pits, refuses to acknowledge my  existence? My memories show you as the big looming figure with a husky voice and that smile. I miss your smile, I miss it so much. That smile could end wars and cure cancer, it could make the sun shine and bring out the silver lining. That smile changed things. . Do you still smile when someone says that she can’t finish her burger after begging for a burger all day? Do you still smile someone changes her earrings and hit it lightly with your finger? Do you still wrap your arms around someone’s waist and put your head against her stomach for a while, out of the blue? Do you still start walking when you laugh? Do you still believe in 20 minute post-sex power naps? Do you still like your noodles soupy? Do you still like your breakfast simple and nothing fancy? Do you still want to smoke up very often and claim to do so but are terrible at handling yourself after? Do you still overanalyse everything and every word? Do you still think of me, ever, as anything? Do you still borrow books and not read them and never return them? Do you still scratch your chin when you are stuck somewhere? Do you still care? Because I do. I can never be just friends with you, you were right. It’ll be too hard to see you stand there in front of me without the prospect of touching your face later in the evening, It’ll be too hard to hear you talk about someone else or see you with another person. How did you do it? But then again what I feel for you still exists and you stopped feeling for me back in February 2012. So it’s okay. I don’t blame you or myself, I’m done playing the blame game, I just miss your face. I miss the part of me that was you, I miss the conversations we could have had and we do have in my head. I miss you so much that it physically hurts and there is this feeling of in my throat, it feels like someone is drowning there, in that abyss and it refuses to go away. You are in my Jack Daniels and my Led Zeppelin, you are in my favorite heels and favorite ring, you are all my favorite things and you have ruined them for me in a way because i don’t know if they are still my favorite because of their beauty or because i shared them as memories with you. I can’t separate one from another and it sucks. I miss you so. You made the right choice. This is the correct thing to do, but it makes me so sad. So sad that the ashes in my throat refuse to go away and the thought of your smile makes me sick.It’ll be okay, I’ll be fine. You do to me what the sun does to the first snow, you make me disappear into the pits of the gutter, make me feel insignificant and foolhardy for trying to bring the change, you do to me what cruel do to the stray, pick them up to bring them crashing down or not. you never did any of these things, I wish you had it’d make it easier for me to get over it but..

I’ll be okay, right? I hope you are okay too. You always appear to be fine, but i hope you really really are okay and fine. Oh and before i forget, I miss you a lot. I’ll write again, in the meanwhile i’ll try and be okay and you, go ahead make your mark. I’m here.

A Risky (whiskey) affair

A for Alcohol

B for barbiturates

C for Cocaine…

..unfortunately or rather fortunately for me, I needn’t go any further than my best buddy, my comforter, my partner in crime- Alcohol.

I drink, Yes. I do. I drink to get drunk and then to pass out. Alcohol is the best invention since the wheel. The warm nights are made cool and the cold ones – warm and comforting. Boring days can be made memorable and as we all know the hazy nights are the best. You might not remember what you said/ did but they make amazing stories and you in a weird, diabolic way are actually proud of all the wrong, embarrassing things you do. At least I am, more often than not. Alcohol like Marijuana is something people are okay with, the hard drugs are a scary prospect but it’s almost as though the expect you to get drunk and puke once and experiment with recreational drugs in the dead of the night at the front porch.

I’m eighteen and I drink. I drink 1 or 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 nights a week, I drink a little and I drink a lot. Alcohol makes me happier than most people I know, I am a better more refined version of myself when drunk. I’m confident, whore-like, happy, impulsive and I can still lie to your face without batting an eyelid. Shots aren’t really my thing, I like my whiskey with water and Ice, and I firmly believe in enjoying the first drink. The first sip when the elixir of life spreads on your tongue, down the pipe and you can feel it move and the light shudder and the mental satisfaction that you have an entire bottle to go before the crack of the dawn is incomparable to anything in the world. The wonderful, rich hue of the liquor when the light falls on it at the dead of the nights and the gleam in my eye together would make us look like two lovers, ready to consummate the relationship.

Drinking alone can be the most reflective and amazing experience or the complete opposite. People oft. feel lonely when they drink alone, I on the other hand revel on the very idea of drinking alone. The silence, the breeze in the hair, the warm of my body against the cool, cold surface with the bottle in my hair and the shivers down the spine when you touch the ice. The splash of the water, when it hits the glass. The feeling of peace, of escape, With that stick of nicotine between your fingers. The feeling that nothing or no one can take away this little joy from your life, because it’s yours and yours alone. It’s yours to share or save, it’s yours to drink or mix. The feeling of power when you realise that you are killing something, that’s so very integral to you and that you can stop the act of razing it’s existence or continue with it.

Somewhere  halfway through the third drink when the first drink starts hitting slowly, the stars begin to multiply. At that point I generally detest human company, I’d rather be alone while I get drunk, once drunk it’s a different ball game. So the drink begins to hit, the body feels warm and singular against the light breeze of the starry night, While the diamonds in the sky begin to multiply and tips of your finger feel cool against your skin, you wrap your hands against the crystal (or plastic/steel et cetra) and gulp down the little that was left and wait. For for the fireworks in slow motion, wait for the moment which is the line of control to come closer and while you wait you begin preparing the fourth drink. The drink that will give you the power to be whosoever you and whatever you ever wanted to do while you put the blame on your partner in crime.

.. And things begin to get slurred, and thoughts seem obscure. Words that upset you hours ago are as immaterial and the empty bottle of whiskey lying in the corner, it’ll only be used to destroy something else later in the night when you are to drunk to comprehend your own thoughts. You laugh and pour another drink and another, it tastes sweet now like honey lime water or a fizzy drink. The mahogany flavor is wasted on your wasted tongue, but you go on apologizing to the genius who created the blend in your hand and pour another and guzzle it down in sheer disrespect.

You forget things, things you wanted to remember and the tiniest bits of the siliest of conversations will come to your mind. You’ll laugh at your own jokes and call someone up and talk to them. you won’t be scared of how the world will think of you because right now, you matter. you and you alone. You’ll be honest, brutally so. You’ll be happy, or sad. You won’t be anything in the middle you won’t be ordinary. You ‘ll be clark kent or the Joker you’ll be a papaya or a cherry, you’ll pass out or whore your night away, you’ll laugh your guts out or cry our lungs out, you might drunk dial or sexy dance, you’ll be Adam and eve and everything in between but nothing ordinary… And I promise it’ll make a good story.

Then you wake up at 4 AM craving water, which then tastes like the most delicious thing ever created. Which to be honest it actually is. So you drink some water, and some more and go back to your delicious slumber

The first step is admitting the problem so here I am, I consume alcohol like it’s my birthright but i don’t think i abuse it. The lines behind use and abuse are so fluid that till you are actually in the pits, it doesn’t hit you how serious the situation is. I do not have a substance abuse problem, for now. I do get used to things which may lead to full blown addiction I know that, but I love alcohol and how It makes me feel. It makes me feel invisible and invincible and everything in between. It solves problems by giving me bigger problems to worry about, it makes me happier than most people and it’s embedded so deeply in me that it’s impossible to filter it out. I don’t know what will happen 20 years down the lane, whether i’ll be snorting cocaine in a dingy alley, or be drinking wine in a cafe in France or Just be a happy stay a home mom sneaking whiskey during football practices but I know that this relationship is for life and though in the bargain i might damage my liver, but it does save me a lot of heart ache.

Hello. I’m back. Sort of.

The last few months have been the best and worst months of my life. My last relevant, sober post was right before these major exams ( apparently the most important exams I will ever right) and surprisingly enough I kicked butt, despite not working hard, fucking around, Abusing substances etc. But despite getting one one of the best colleges in the country and getting the subject of my choice ( my major is English literature) things have been terrible and amazing and the only semi decent thing I’ve written in the last 8 months are my papers.
So, imaginary audience and the voices in my head- my sincere apologies.
I am okay. Alive and I do kick occasionally.
So today a friend of mine was undergoing some crisis, he was cribbing about whether going through the agony of wasting your time , energy, classes, emotions and words over someone you like but you aren’t sure likes you back, worth it.
My roommate didn’t know what to say so she asked me to say something for she didn’t know what to say.
That’s When I had my epiphany ( I’ll talk about it next time)

So this is what I said:

“See. Of what i know when it happens, ‘the whirlwind college romance’, it takes you along with it and doesn’t give you the time to contemplate, you are impulsive and spontaneous and you don’t realize that everything was at stake till you lose it or till you get it all back and more.
You don’t have the option to be confused, you are so into it that whatever the outcome you go on with it till it comes crashing or reaches the pinnacle of happiness you never thought you could have achieved.

The drama and confusion and hurt comes later, do YOU think its worth it because if you do then it is worth all this and more. And If you don’t then leave it be. You always have that option. So you choose. Do you want in ?
The like, love,drama and more. You make the call.

And the books and the movies are right, the songs do begin to make sense both the happy and the sad ones. The heartbreak is as real as they make it out to be, even worse. But good Lord I know for a fact that I’d undergo the confusion and agony of not knowing in the beginning and the heart break in the end a thousand times over only to feel that way. Once more. With anyone. Because there is nothing better than waking up in the morning and looking forward to seeing someone, everyday.
The drama and non sense is worth it.”

My opinion sounds ancient and utopian, maybe its from all the trashy novels that I have read and the Romcoms I’ve watched, I am delusional but I have faced the reality time and time again and though some would disagree that the baggage isn’t worth it and what I am saying is bullshit, it may be I don’t know but believing in this helps me get through the bad days and the good ones always have a chance of getting better.

Writing again is so good.
I’ll complete my thirty day challenge peeps. Oh. I missed this.