Crazy/(Not) Beautiful

Adolescence was never a regular affair for me. I've always felt isolated from what goes on around me, like I don't really belong.
Delhi has been somewhat surreal so far, I've learned more about myself in the last few months than I ever did sitting in my room in Calcutta.
I've come to terms with the fact that I will always be lonely. Nobody can fill the void. Not because nobody can, but because I don't want anybody to.
My void gives me a sense of purpose.
It keeps me going.
Floating from place to place.
Moving on from one person to another.
My void gives me life.

I've been called many a name, both to my face and behind my back. Some hurt and some I dismiss as a joke, to be taken with a pinch of salt.
People sometimes do and say the most cruel things unintentionally.
I let it all go.
I feed the void.
It grows.
It takes over my brain.
My void consumes me.
I let it.
It gives my life some meaning that way.

I have been manic and depressed for as long as I can remember.
How did things get so fucked up?
I cannot remember.
My head has stopped listening to me.

Merry Christmas To Me

It's strange how I find myself all alone during times when I am craving for the company of a fellow human being the most. Loneliness is such a sad, sad thing.

There is no feeling more heartbreaking than knowing you're all alone.

I've been drifting in and out of depression lately. 

What is worrying though, is my complete lack of faith and hope that somehow things will work out just fine in the future. 

Reality is scary and the fact that I am not a child anymore has hit me very hard, like an unintentional but firm slap across the cheek when the brain is on acid.

I've built these walls so high that nothing breaks my heart anymore. Yes, I feel amused perhaps, but never upset because I know that happiness is something that doesn't really exist. It's all just a facade to keep ourselves from falling apart.

What is the point in craving to be with someone who does not exist anymore? What is the point in giving my heart to somebody who will land up breaking it into a million little pieces anyway?

Why fall in love when you can have sex and just leave it at that?

I've been told that I hold on to old memories too much and that I should move on. But move on to what? Yet another phase of self-destruction and mutilation? Things have been getting progressively worse inside my head over the years to the point of a complete breakdown.

I am losing my mind and this time, unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to recover from it.

I have given up all hope.

It was never worth it, at the end of the day.

I don't want anyone beside me.

I don't want anybody to love me.

I've had enough.

I am alone.

I have always been.

I am a phoenix.

I shall rise from my own ashes someday.

But just like Santa, there is no such thing as a Christmas miracle and I am learning that the hard way

Expiry Dates

I can't help but feel that you and I are running out of time. The urgency is driving me mad. I can't help but crave for one more time.

But don't show any mercy.

Don't treat me like a child.

I want to submit to you.

One more time.

Paint your pictures on me.

Bite into more than you can chew.

Destroy me.

For I want to be devoured by you.

Make me come

Make me cry

Make me come alive

Before I die....

Death By Fornication

I firmly believe that there will be a day when the lioness will be tamed. She can't be wild and free forever can she?
I want a man to violate me, to finish what one man started.
I want to scream.
I want to cry.
Replace all memories I have with new ones.
Maybe then I'll be truly free?

"Don't Scar My Face"

Fatigue. That's the first word that comes to my mind if I have to talk about myself.

I am tired.

I am so incredibly tired.

And sad.

I am living in a loop of eternal melancholy.

I'm so unsure of myself.

But I will not cry.

Especially not in front of you.

Even though my heart is breaking into a million little pieces.

You say all the right things.

But your eyes, they lie.

Lust.

Greed.

Fascination.

Infatuation.

Aggression.

Compassion.

But not love.

It's not that easy to fall in love and stay there.

I would know.

I've spent every waking minute looking for it, hoping that it still exists.

I Love You Mom

I wish I had my mother's grace. She'd always wanted to be a dancer when she was young and boy, she was the most gorgeous woman you'd ever see!
But her career was short-lived as she never really made her "passion" her "profession" and chose to be a professor instead, trading her ghungroo for reading glasses.
And here I am, 22 years later, awkward as hell and graceless like an old man with ADHD.


I wish my mother would take up dancing as a full-time career instead of a life of academics and family. I love her to death, but I don't want to be another her.

So beautiful, so surreal and so incredibly talented…but such a waste.

What's the point in being a good person?
My mother is one of the most honest, loving and hardworking people you will ever come across, but where did it get her? She's stuck with a problem child like me forever now!

Nice people always lose the race in this world.

Cherish the time that you spend with me.

I will be gone soon.

Forever.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

In a strange new land.

Strange faces.

Strange memories.

Where nothing makes sense anymore.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

Only you can help me heal.

I should have cherished the time we spent together.

Taken pictures of ourselves.

Written each other little notes.

But we didn't.

We thought we were invincible.

But you're gone now.

It makes me sad.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

I am in pain.

The loop is endless.

Musings at Midnight.

"Freedom was just another word, for nothing left to lose…"

There is a road that leads one to the Aravalli Guest House from the Ganga hostel (where some of my friends stay). It's covered with trees, the road is pucca and once the sun is down, feels just like a forest reserve.
I have been in a strangely reflective state of mind lately and while walking down that road tonight, I realised that everybody is always alone. They try so desperately to cling on to another, to share their world with another. But why? Not to let the other person in, but to only feel good about themselves.

What is freedom but being able to break away from all these shackles of attachment that bind us together!
I want to be free.
But I do not have the courage yet.

Do It and Do It Again

So this is my first post from the rape capital of India, New Delhi. I moved here in August (?) and have been studying (?) at JNU, which I think is making me an even bigger elitist asshole than I used to be before I got here.

I've been living in a state of perpetual haze and I have absolutely no idea what it is that I am doing. I don't even recognise the person I am anymore. It's sad and scary.
What do you do when you lose control of your life? I had my shit together and everything changed all of a sudden. I have no idea what the future has in store for me. I am scared, I am terribly terribly scared. But mostly I'm just sad because I've come to terms with the fact that good things don't last forever.

Starting all over again is something that I've always wanted to do. There is no monster here. But that would mean erasing all the memories that I've been suppressing for so long. I can't get myself to do that. I'm not that strong yet.

But what if I don't want it to go away because it makes me who I am?
What if I've been scarred so deep that I can never fully heal?

Life is supposed to be all fun and games when you're a child. But my childhood, unfortunately, was not like that.I've been trying to compensate for that on my own, but look where it got me. I'm more lost than I have ever been. I have no idea who I am anymore.
I have no morals. I have no sense of right and wrong. I loathe my body at times, I scar it, abuse it and try and break it . But there's nothing wrong with my body, it's my head that needs cleansing.

Why can't I break out of this cycle of self-harm and channel it to do something more constructive with my life?
Probably because everything I do and say is placed under a magnifying glass and scrutinised oh so dearly.
But by who, girls who want to be like me? Boys who want to be with me?
No, people who have absolutely no idea what it's like to be me.
So I crawl back into my shell, stop expressing how I really feel.
And I die a little bit, as each day passes me by.

Feelings are overrated anyway, aren't they?
If I could, I really would pull an 'Eternal Sunshine' on myself just to see what it feels like to not feel anything.


I wish people would see that it's not easy to put up a brave face all the time. I want to feel vulnerable again, only this time not have anybody take advantage of that. But I can't let my guard down because there is nobody to trust.
Some love me for my body and the things they can do to/with it.
Some love me for my head, they love to probe and see how damaged I am.

But guess who I love. I love no one except for myself. I do love other human beings occasionally, but I will always put myself before them. I'm not even apologetic about it because I truly believe that it's okay to be a selfish person. Everyone is a selfish person at the end of the day. I'm no exception. I'm no martyr.

Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice, shame on me, right?

Glorious Endings

The end that never was meant to be,
can't you see,
can't you see,
that the end was never meant to be?

In pain and in suffering I find my will to live.
I will go on like this forever.
Unless I am rescued.

Are you man enough?

Blew

Anything to be like you.
Anything to be liked by you.
Is there another reason?

Big clouds of smoke.
The biggest I have seen.
Is there another reason?

You could do anything.

So Less, Soul-less.

I wonder if I'm going to turn into a full blown alcoholic by the time I'm 30 years old. I started my day with some rum and I'm ending it with the same. It's not normal, at least not for a 21 year old. I don't drink too much, I don't act too crazy when drunk. I act normal and that's rather unhealthy.

I drink because it helps me reach other people, or rather it helps them reach me. I can't seem to relate to anyone. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a loner, but I just can't seem to be able to open up to another person beyond a certain point, feel as though I know them and they know me.

It's terrible to feel so lonely, day in and day out.

Depression has always been the dominant part of my bipolarity. I have been depressed for as long as I can remember. Depression is not a feeling, it's a disease that eats away whatever little hope you have left inside you.
There are days when I don't feel like getting out of bed at all, so I don't. I stay in bed all day doing nothing but bawling, but why? I don't know. That's what depression is for me. It's that feeling of sheer helplessness which makes you want to do nothing but cry.

So I cry sometimes. I cry a lot. But that's only for me to see, it's a secret that I tuck away from the rest of the world.

And I think of the physical abuse.
And the shame.
And the self-loathing.
And the pain.
And the heartbreak.

And I cry some more.

I wonder if I had been this damaged had I not been raped a decade back.
I wonder all sorts of things.
To make that sinking feeling go away. But nothing I do seems to be enough and I land up sabotaging my relationships with all those who are close to me in some way or the other.

It is a vicious cycle of abuse in a way. It doesn't end. It will never end.

The Passenger

If I could run away from this dying city, I would.
I would run away and never come back.
Vultures. Maggots. Urban vermin.

Getting high doesn't make sense anymore.
I need a better escape plan, a more permanent one.

I am my own passenger.
I ride.
"I am the passenger
And I ride and I ride" 

Heartbreak is never a good thing. What what do you do when you're the one causing it?

I've hit a new low and I don't know how to get back up from here.
Maybe I've been taking my idols more seriously than I should.

Wait, What?

I just realized that I have been in a normal, loving heterosexual relationship for so long that I've nearly forgotten what it's like to be with a woman. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with my current situation but it's just that men are too damn different from women. The yin can never be same as the yang!

Raw Meat

I realized today that I don't wear large, dangling earrings anymore. I used to have a huge collection when I was younger, but I've tucked them away into a box since.

I remember wearing my favourite pair when he came over to my place for the first time. I tried to dress my best and by best, I mean jeans, a t-shirt with a cool (read corny, I didn't realize back then!) slogan and cheap jewelry- the best a 12 year old can come up with. I washed my hair. Shaved my legs for the first time and wore my mother's perfume. I was nervous as he sat on my bed. I felt so tiny and insignificant sitting there next to him. I felt unsure of myself. I was clumsy and fidgety. 

I was playing with my earrings.

He told me that he liked them. He nibbled my ears. 

I was scared stiff. My vulnerability showed. He understood. He understood well.

I don't remember what happened after that as clearly as I used to anymore. I seem to have deliberately blocked out a large chunk of those memories, but sometimes a scene or two appear in a flash and I'm back to being the 12 year old wreck that I was.

I understand now why I find it so hard to give myself completely to others-be it family, friends or lovers. I always hold back just a little even though I don't want to. I don't think I can trust another person completely after what I've been through. I'm sorry that people around me have to put up with a lot of things that they wouldn't have to with other "normal" people, but I guess it's just the way I am, not the way I've become.

I've been hiding under a cloak of false bravado for so long now that I've forgotten what it's like to completely let go and trust another person to not hurt me like I've been hurt before-physically, but more importantly, mentally.

I've been hit, shamed and physically assaulted in the past, but it has never mattered because I've never let it get to me. It was my choice to be with people who clearly weren't nice human beings. But why did I chose them over others? 

To show him that I'm strong and nothing can break me.

To show him that I'm not a 12 year old anymore. I am aware of what a bad place the world can be for girls like me and that I choose to be victimized and nobody does anything to me against my will. Anymore.

I still wonder what I would do if I were to meet him again someday. Would he still see the vulnerability in me like he did nearly 10 years ago? Because I know that he, only he, the one person in the world, will still be able to make me feel that way. Scared. Unsure. Stupid. Ugly. But more importantly, just a silly little child who is clearly too big for her boots.

Trauma can be a funny thing, you never know what can trigger it. I found those earrings a while back and I'm wearing them as I write this.

But can I wear it outside, in front of others?

I'm not that strong yet.

We Never Change

Change is the only thing that's constant they say. But I don't think that's true. Humans are incapable of change. They may walk down a different road or two, they always come back to where they started from. We never change. We only keep running in this elaborately created circle which gives us the illusion that we are moving forward somewhere, with each passing day.
I wish I could be a writer, I'm jealous of the kind who can describe the exact things they feel, through words. I can't. I just lose the plot halfway through...much like this post.

Anyway, I've deviated far too much to get back to what I wanted to talk about in the first place. I've gone back to writing my journal like I used to, penning down my thoughts helps me from going crazy somehow. I think I really am losing my mind.

I've been depressed for weeks and weeks at a stretch now. Nothing makes me happy. Good times come and they go, but I can't seem to hold on to any.

I am sad and I don't know why.

Butterflies in my stomach

and a bunny rabbit on my bed.

I wish I could trade my life with yours instead.