Many Of Horror

With December right around in the corner, the mood for reflection is in the air too. Some of us did well for ourselves, some of us truly entered the trance arena of a downward spiral. But hey, you know what they say about perspective, right? So if you're feeling shitty about yourself, let me tell you the tale of 27th November.

My days often start when the sun is blazing right on top of your head. Waking up at noon is not luxury, it is an opportunity grabbed at every holiday. After a series of study leaves managed to turn my sleep cycle upside down (hey, at least I was studying and not watching Orange Is The New Black) (maybe), I woke up at 7 am to take an exam. 

All good. Except I woke up to utter chaos. My mum and brother were running late for school, and it turned out that the driver didn't show up with the car either. One car, two destinations. Dad decided to drop us both together, mum fans to first to school and then me to the metro station. Halfway into the ride, I realised that I didn't have my admit card on me. 

Fuck. 

We turned back. I ran upstairs. And I could not find my admit card ANYWHERE. If I'm not able to take this exam today, my graduation gets delayed by an entire year. Panic. Chaos. Somehow my brain works, I grab last year's admit card and run back to the car. 

I'm running late already. 

At the metro station, I make a few calls to make sure that a classmate can go to the admin ffice and start the process of finding out what I can do now. WHERE IS THE DAMN METRO? It comes, and thank the gods it wasn't a white light one or I would have cried. I take a seat, and pull out some notes to revise, when a guy sitting next to me starts rapping Honey Singh songs. Ha ha ha. Out of all days. I block him out and try to focus. At Green Park, I realise something is wrong. I forgot my calculator. This is a practical paper. 

Fuck. 

I call my friend at the hostel to help me arrange for one, except there's one glaring problem. Math Hons has their paper today too, which is prime calculator market. Hey, you can't expect Pol Sc kids to have calculators. I cross my fingers, hoping she'll find some Econ kid, glare at Honey Singh man, and get on with life. 

I reach college with five minutes to spare, take the paper, and only once do I wonder if I'll really pass this paper or not. I come out, somewhat alive after 3 hours, only to hear people telling me that the paper was an EXACT copy of 2014's SOL paper. But how can that be possible? I solved all the past papers yesterday! 

Turns out my 10 Year's was last year's edition. I didn't even have the 2014 paper -.- 

Fuck this shit. I go to the admin office to get a new admit card. They ask me to wait for 3 hours. I give up. I'd even forgotten to carry my phone's charger, there was nothing to do but wait. At around 2, I generally stroll by the office again, only to have a guy stop me and tell me that I don't need to wait till 3, because they had my old admit card all along and just.. forgot. 

ARGH. I mean, I know I should be thankful, but this could have been totally avoided IF THEY HAD ONLY HAD SOME PRESENCE OF MIND (not that I'm one to say, considering how I lost it in the first place -.-) 

Oh well. I take the metro back. It's 8 coach, it's HUDA City Centre, I get a seat immediately, hey maybe my day is turning around! 

I climb up the stairs of my home thinking "oh man, the only better feeling than coming home is coming back to an EMPTY home awwyissss!". Except the door is unlocked. I try to open it, it's shut from the inside. No worries, I realise that my brother is home. Except he's not opening the door! I ring the bell, I call the landline, I scream his name, nothing is happening. My brother is literally snoring away to glory. And I'm stuck outside in the cold, I need to pee, I'm sleep deprived, and all I really want to do is wear ratty pajamas and lie on my bed. 

Life: "LOL no" 

It's all good! I go over to Srijan's. Probably the only part of my day that was truly the nicest. Don't you just love it when you have someone who will just casually turn your day around just by virtue of their existence? 3 hours of aimless conversation, Jasper tests and silly jokes later, I head back home. My mum has literally managed to break into our own house just to get inside, everyone is inside (my brother was still sleeping btw, that adorable shit), my boyfriend was on the phone and there was a double chocolate chip cookie waiting for me somewhere. Just like that, it was midnight, and the day was over. And you know what?

I survived 27/11. 

(Haha)

(That line might be in poor humour) 

don't.

Do not stand at my grave and weep 

I am not there. I do not sleep. 

I am a thousand winds that blow. 

I am the diamond glints on snow. 

I am the sunlight on ripened grain. 

I am the gentle autumn rain. 

When you awaken in the morning's hush 

I am the swift uplifting rush 

Of quiet birds in circled flight. 

I am the soft stars that shine at night. 

Do not stand at my grave and cry; 

I am not there. I did not die.

What is it about death that makes us so contemplative? A few minutes back, I was peacefully pondering about how to pass my exam (it's day after, why do you think am I blogging so much?), and then out of nowhere, it hit me - I once knew people who just don't exist anymore. It's such a strange thought to wrap your head around. Normal people your age who you've talked to and shared 8th grade lunches and exam hall jokes with, they're just.. dead. 

I used to think death is mostly associated with the notion of sadness, that I'm supposed to surround myself with an air of melancholy whenever I think of somebody who passed away. Except, all I feel is bewilderment. Call it the 5 Stages of Grief or the river, I don't care. I mean, come on. How can somebody who was perfectly healthy, with barely 2 decades behind them, just get up and say goodbye to all things mortal? How can people who were once a fully functional embodiment of consciousness and spirit, just.. die? 

Sometimes, I'll catch my thoughts drifting to them. Did they live a good life? Were they happy? Is it fair that they probably never got to do the thins you and I will hopefully have a chance at - a soulmate to wake up to every morning, your own children who will further have kids who'll run around your house calling you gramps? A trip around the world, finally opening that restaurant, that chance of doing something that leaves an impact much bigger than you ever imagined? 

I don't know these answers, but more importantly, I don't think I want the answers to these questions. I don't want to imagine what they went through in their final moments, whether life flashed before their eyes, whether they found their way into the light or not. I just wish, I truly do, that they're happy wherever they are, and know that somebody out here chooses to live life more fully just to honour their past existence. 

Rest in peace, both of you. 

x

Type // Typo

How often do you look at somebody across the street and wonder, "Hot damn, I'd tap that" (in a non creepy way.) (Is it even possible to think that in a non creepy way?) (guh) 

More often than not, we all have a particular type. They are the proverbial flame to our moth-like existence. It doesn't matter whether they're within out league or not, the playing field is completely different when you face that kind of attraction. Your heart flip flops, not because you have a crush, but because you *know* this feeling already. You'll appear more charming, your arms and legs will move in a graceful tandem, and you'll already know you're acing this. Been there, done that. 

Except, why do we even have a type in the first place? The people you date are usually VAAAASTLY different from what your expectations are. She likes tall, dark and handsome? She's probably going to end up with short, bald and handsome (Hey who said short bald men cannot look gorgeous?) 

Tall boys with curly hair who smell great and and have glorious smiles are mine. (That's oddly specific hahaha). I know somebody who likes muscly girls. An old friend loves chubby guys. But does having a type necessarily restrict you to only that market? 

All I'm saying is, there's more to people than just looks. It's also true that looks do matter, at least in that first instance when biology races chemistry and competes for some.. physic..al.. Never mind. This is just a tiny reminder to the world that just like you, people are complex. Not only is there personality, but there are multiple layers to that as well. Choose wisely, be it a one night stand or a soulmate. Because judging people on one or two characteristics might just land you in the bed of a serial killer. 

x

You know that little voice inside your head? The one that tells you to not eat that 19th gol gappa and tells you to stfu before saying something horribly awkward that'll end your social life forever? That voice is driving me crazy.

Now I know that everyone who knows me already thinks that I'm a psycho nut job who laughs & giggles too much at stupid stuff like the words 'alu - bonda'. Hey, nobody's paying me money to put up a sane act, so I might as well do what makes me happy.

Exceptttttt. There's this thingggg. My happiness is making me unhappy too. I've been in love with a man since the past 4 years, with somebody who has cheated on me repeatedly and has easily sauntered back into my life because I've let him. I've believed that this love (? faithfulness? blind optimism?) has been the reason he's always come back to me, no matter how many other women have come in the way.

Yet I know this is idiocy. And my idiocy angers me, more and more everyday. The fact that somebody willingly chose to lie to me, to deceive me, to take me for granted, to break my trust, to literally fucking stomp on my heart just because he had the power to just goes on to show how little he has actually cared, yet lied to me about even that :/ It makes me feel so helpless, the fact that my version of our shared past is thoroughly and completely inaccurate, so little of it is actually true. Every moment spent doing something was actually spent with somebody else, sharing little snippets of love, all while I though I  was the special one.

I wasn't. And when I got to know, it broke a little part of me, but I let him back inside anyway. I gave him a little more of myself anyway. He went right ahead and cheated again anyway. I broke a little more anyway.

Each time, I thought things were different. Things are different this time too. We're in different cities. I'm a different person too. I've become a too much of a cynic, I've forgotten what bright sides and silver linings mean. I'm always looking for a catch in everything. It's impossible to trust people at one go.

My happiness has reduced me to a bundle of insecurities. And boy, does long distance help that.

I'm just tired. I just want to be loved wholly man. Is that so much to ask for? I don't want half-assed declarations of love that even make you feel shallow. I just want to be treated nice, and not constantly be made to feel like I'm competing for affection. I just wish he'd stop flirting with other people and make me feel like a shitty person. I want the kind of love I believed in before he cheated on me. I want to go sleep knowing that the burden of a relationship is not just held on my shoulders, that he isn't in a relationship that acts like a sword hanging over his head. I want to be told that yes, I am loved and I am cherished and yes, I mean to you what you mean to me - not just words said for the sake of saying but because you actually mean them. 

Why does complacency come so easily to us all? Wouldn't you rather get out of a relationship that makes you feel like this?

Then 3 years and 10 months later, what am I still doing here, floating in this abyss of G's and S' and M's and N's and J's and A's and all the other women you chose over me?