Of hearts, loyalty and trust

Scratch that

Of Friends

I was always a bit of a hermit; easily confused for arrogance, my weariness or neglect rather, to socialize and make friends deluded all but me. Which brings me to how: I was always, always, always looking for me-time.

I was always looking to get away even with that limited number of friends who I loved and trusted and who loved and trusted me – and I shouldn’t take this from them- who bore me, who tolerated me, who took care of my mood swings and childish attitudes and complaints and my constant whining about everywhatever and laughed at all my jokes which laced with sarcasm. I would vanish off for hours without telling anybody; sometimes go hide in the computer lab, just to be alone. I would deliberately walk around the entire place, in the rain with my phone turned off (freshmen year comes to mind!). Funny how I always wanted me-time then.

Funny how I do not want it anymore

I had a flair for drama. I thought me-time was all deep and dark and mysterious and broody and sexy. It was maybe something I did not do deliberately, but I know I did. I wanted to wallow in the darkest moments of self-loathing and self-despair, I did not want to share, I did not want to sit and talk, I wanted to run away, far, far away. When I did talk to someone, it was  always a relief but – and although I don’t think I am a masochist- I never voluntarily talked. I would brood. And brood. And brood. And my idea of funny was dark cynicism which essentially threw stones at the world for just be-ing.

Oh don’t get me wrong. I still throw figurative stones at the world for being but I have come to accept it and I constantly find myself berating the old-me for being such a pain in the freaking arse! I find myself craving for the happy lull of friends around laughing at the fart-sound the couch made when someone sat on it- simply that. I find myself craving to reach out and put my arm around their shoulder in half-a-hug, laughing at something. I find myself needing someone who can sit infront of me so I can be negative and cynical and sarcastic and between all that, a little wise, a little funny, a little insolent. 

The irony of growing up is that you really want to be growing down. You dislike long dupattas (while you made saris out of them in youth), you want to cut your hair shorter and shorter (while longer hair was your ultimate dream as a child)… But I digress.

What I want to say is: I miss my friends. Yes, given that some of them are busy, some moved on, one turned out to be talking behind my back and then denying it (typical of so many girls!), the oldest one “cannot do this anymore” and the more recent one ”cannot do this anymore” either; I don’t know if I miss these friends or just miss friends, period.  

I guess I miss the innocence that friends bring with them; the sense of -in retrospect- gullibility that you can trust them, love them, be loyal to them and they will do all of that in return. I miss the ease with which you can rely on them, just call or message or mail and take up with them where you last left off- even if it was months back or just a day, not to forget their absolute acquiesce of your attitude and your odd sense of social etiquette including but not limited to, eating with your mouth wide open in sophisticated restaurants and talking to salesmen in a very fake but impressive british accent…

I always thought friendship, like love was about sacrifice. Doing things for your friends, being things to your friends… but sometimes I find myself thinking, maybe like all other things in the world, friendship is about selfishness, no different. You are friends for yourself, not the other person. You want more than give, you put conditions and time stamps on your feelings and you are constantly measuring, calculating, counting what you did and what they did and how they disappointed you.. never the other way around. What a scary thought that is.

… So if there were those who ”cannot do this anymore”, maybe it was my fault afterall.

 

 

 

This blog is ofcourse dedicated to F, Y and M.A; always and forever, there :)

Picture credit: beautifulineverything.com

Here’s how to get over …L.o.v.e

Here it is guys, a list that every broken hearted soul needs and, needs like a vengeance. How to get over the annoyingly hurtful, emotionally exhausting, frustratingly constant feeling that makes your heart beat like a ping-pong ball on a freakingly smooth table. Yes, sir. And we all know it hurts. Not just in the head, but everywhere. What to do then?

1) Avoid anything to do with love like you would a dengue machar. Avoid love websites, love movies, love songs, love videos, love TV shows, love cartoons (yeah there are those), love books, love quotes..  anything starting or ending with the word love, anything that has love anywhere in between, even a little glimpse, a little peep through the peephole, avoid it. Stay faaaaar away from it. Douse yourself in a figurative love-repellant.

2) Followed by #1 is ofcourse, do the opposite. Watch scary movies, horror movies, murder mysteries, something with lots of blood and killing and swearing and hatred and NO sign of love or romance or crushes or attractions … And by the way, vampire diaries and true blood and most of all the Twilight series (real *gag*) do NOT come under this category so stop that download right this second. Its fake blood; not the real deal. You can read Christopher’s Pike; reviewing the books and movies before you read and watch is always a plus. If there is a girl and a boy in it, it is pretty much out.

3) This is a voodoo spell which works wonders. Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete that horrid human being (it doesn’t matter if you broke up with them- you are the good party here)  from your facebook, gmail, hotmail, yahoo, googleplus, stumbleupon, your new phone, your old phone… whereever they are listed. Block as well. Do not for even a second think of reading any of the emails or messages. Delete them all. Purge yourself from the whaft of their very existence. If someone asks you in that tone: “so how is (insert name here) doing?” You look at them and say: “who (insert name here)?”

No really. When you have done it enough times, you will actually start believing your response.

4) Distract yourself. Tried. Tested. Tried various times again. Read books (but consult #1 on this list first), watch shows or movies, write if you like writing, play a gruelling, extreme physical activity sport if you are into that kind of a thing, try punching bag if you are angry, you can also throw things around you (mind, not too precious or you will regret it later) but throwing things always helps; transmitting your fury onto another object is so liberating. You could even do some or all of the following:

a) Get hold of a cat, hold it by the tail and pull it behind you like a sack of potatoes until it yelps and struggles.

b) Pull your brothers’ hair, throw water at them while they are sleeping, snatch the laptop from them while they are working on it or turn off power, or worse, take out the internet cable. Any kind of similar torture to fellow human beings would work as long as it is… well, torturous. If it gets an angry response out of them, all the better.

5) Eat. Hog. Munch. Splatter food while at it. It is okay to talk with your mouth full. Trust me, food is and can be the answer to all your questions. Why did he leave you? Try the new lays, barbeque flavor. Why he likes another girl? Try the news lays, cream and onion. Why he won’t return your calls? Try the ooooooh, the dark chocolate or just go to Dunkin Donuts. If nothing works, hog on some good ol’ tasty biryani. You are entitled to junk, spicy, oily and greasy fried pleasantries and ofcourse, carbs! You can worry about weight watch a little time later (not too late though or this would be your last break up :p )

6) Last of all, and this is a serious one. Talk. It. Out. To yourself. To your best friend. To your diary. To your blog. Do things you love. You like singing? Sing. You like playing an instrument? Play. You like bitching about people? Bitch. You like gossping? Gossip. You like Shopping? Shop. Do not reminsce about the nice, comfortable, happy ‘couply’ days. They were a figment of your imagination (this should be your frame of mind for at least the first few weeks. Otherwise, you will be a walking, talking, train wreck and people will be asking about that smeared mascara which you did not notice because you were not bawling infront of a mirror )…..

And well, if nothing works, take Xanax (two 0.5 mg tablets) and go to sleep.

Caution: I understand the last advice might be hazardous in some way so take it at your own bloody risk and do not OD, because the whole point is to get over the person, not your life, hello! *rolls eyes*

Also, incase you want to know more about what this ‘love’ actually is, read here. I have a theory :p

I’m tired, you see

I’m tired.

No, really. I’m really tired, and there are so many things that I’m actually tired of that I needed to list them down and just have the opportunity to look at them, all numbered down and clearly put out there on the screen… No turning back and maybe when I see the list, I would be able to tell what the bloody hell is actually wrong with me and maybe then I would stop being tired..

1) I’m tired of sitting on my butt all day at a dead-end job which I should seriously consider changing, like NOW. It started off well. Very well, I would say and If I were to draw the entire experience on a curve it would be like .. going up-up-up-up-and before getting a chance to reach the peak, turning and-going down- down-down-down-down-down-then straight.  You want to know how my job is? Well, I have work. Quite a lot of it too but I’m sitting at my desk right now, writing this blog. No motivation, no  inspiration.

2) I’m tired of being sad about everything. Every thing, like every little thing makes me sad. Why do I have to be ‘sad’, why can’t I be a milder version of it. Why can’t I be less sad and more nonchalant or more umm.. let’s say, gloomy or heavyhearted or down or despondent.. Why do I have to feel so much intensity in every feeling I have – and as it happens, I am not a very happy person so basically, every feeling I have is a negative one, with a severity, a  magnitude, so indescribably high, its annoying.

3) I’m tired of hating. I don’t like hating things anymore. Not dislike, not indifference but hatred. Why do I have to hate with such vehemence, things which I could easily ignore or deal with. Like I really hate my slow internet speed, I really hate coming to work. I really hate going back home after work. I really hate fighting and being at the receiving end of: ’you said this.. but you said that… but you did not do this… but you promised that.. and you are so ungrateful .. and you are never happy… but you don’t listen.. and you are always whinning..’

Which leads me to

4) I’m tired of whinning. I hate whinning. (See what I mean about hating everything :p) I really do. Do I whine because I have so much to whine about or is it just one of my habits; am I just addicted to whining about every little, minute, insignificant only remotely whineable thing . Most would vote for the latter but I really cannot distinguish one from another anymore. I do actually find the need to whine about everything- like not having post-its around when I need them or not having friends around to talk to after I myself, single-handedly drove them away. Whinning, I tell you, is a bad, bad habit. Even dangerous to some extent.

5) I’m tired of not doing anything about it. Well, obviously. I hate work, I hate being sad. I hate hating, I hate whinning, there is nothing in my life that I appreciate anymore and yet, here I am, doing absolutely nothing about it. Someone come and shake me up. I am a pile of bricks.

And like icing on cake. Oh no, no, with my negativity, how could I even use that phrase. I’ll use: And like the last nail in the coffin, I’m tired of

6) Giving up before I can even start. This should require no explanantions. How many times have I realized I am on a sinking ship and I should get off it or jump to the nearest ledge hanging onto dear life but … even though I can feel it and see it and hear it sinking, I am not moving. I go to the deck, see how much of the ship has gone down and then come back to the same position I was in before, this time so much more closer to the cold, hard water not-so-far below.

And yes, I see everyone around me, one by one, jumping off it, either to a nearest boat or a ledge or another ship or just in the water swimming away, leaving me alone here still dwelling over whether to jump or not. Something in my head says: If it is sinking, why should I jump? But actually, I seem to be delaying the jumping for the bizarre notions in my head that maybe:

a) It won’t sink

b) Someone will come and get me out of here

c) This is a dream

*sigh*

What is a girl to do? I’m tired, you see.

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Somewhere between 0 and infinity

Something has just occurred to me. I was listening to Boxer Rebellion and nodding my head up and down in the groove when this occurred to me. It occurred to me that I should write about love. *cough, cough* And before I succumb to this voice in my head telling me I know absolutely nothing about it, I have decided it is better to just start typing.

Love. Yes, love. But not of the romantic mills and boons with the female protagonist‘s golden hair cascading down her exotic face waiting for her domineering (but kind), King-like (but humble), strong (but hurt), flirtatious (but actually looking for love) God of a man who she might dislike in the beginning but eventually end up hero- worshipping; he is Superman without having to wear his underwear over his trousers, he is Spider man without the necessary web-making abilities… One just cannot draw a parallel to the likes of these stories in real. There is a reason why Judith Mcnaught started writing these books; fiction is important in the world.

However, I want to talk about love in the real life; the tugging and pulling of emotions and egos; the love of the immeasurable and insurmountable hurt, the uncountable misunderstandings, the constant betrayals, the broken expectations; the love that breeds in disappointments; the love that lives and breathes despite, the love that remains.. but also, the love that dies.

I don’t want to write about love because of some bizarre need to talk about it when I am in a state of un-love, nor is this an account of  the blossoming feelings of love and affection from my significant other. It is just one of those things that occur to you when you are watching a sappy movie or listening to a song which pulls at your heart strings despite your absolute reluctance in letting it.

The thing is, I really do not understand love or what it is. I understand like. I understand affection. I understand attraction. I understand honesty and trust and belief but I do not understand love. I used to think love was sacrifice if you are able to sacrifice your ‘self’ (khud in Urdu) for someone; you love them. But is there a time-stamp on it? How do people confess their undying love for the other person and in the next second, cheat on them, leave them, get over them, move on from them.

And why is love of the heart and not of the mind? Why do people automatically think that if they started thinking rationally or practically, they will stop loving and why is love equated to irrationality?

Truth be told, I have been in ‘love’. At the time, I thought I was madly in it but then after 5 years, I managed to get over. Not without any reason either. Then I fell in love again; much, much later on and I keep expecting I will wake up one day to find either I am over, or he is over.. which is just, frankly too much pressure and too much of an energy wasted which could easily be utilized elsewhere :p

My point is… Wait, I don’t have a point. Just questions which just get debated upon but never absolutely and definitely answered. The philosophical world is dwelling over so many metaphysical concepts and I find myself wondering, is love also just a metaphysical altercation, a phenomenon trying very hard to be understood but miserably failing. Why did love, one of the most important feelings a person experiences had to be the undefined one, the obscure, the mysterious, the frustratingly multi-layered one with no certainty to its meaning. We don’t know how far it goes or how far it can; we don’t know where it begins and where it ends.

But maybe I have answered the question myself. Maybe the reason it is undefined is because it cannot be defined absolutely in the first place. Maybe it is undefined because it lies somewhere between 0 and infinity and every person, everywhere in the world decides where to put a certain person on this imaginary line, decides how to define love for oneself, define which factors are variables and which constants and eventually make his own personalized love equation.

And that is why people break up and get disappointed and betray and get their hearts broken and have ALL these love problems.

What is your problem? I’ll tell you. Somewhere between 0 and infinity is your problem.

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