on what if’s

What if? This has proven to be the most tormenting question in my life. I think I finally understand what Sheldon Cooper means when he says that unresolved situations are so uncomfortable for him; that they are like an itch in his brain he can’t scratch. I do not think there is anything worse than spending your days wondering how different things would have turned out if some things had happened or not, how happier you would have been. I do not know if this is what they called regret. I try to pretend it isn’t.  You see, I like to think that regret is feeling sorry about the things you did.  And if that is the case, which it isn’t, then I do not have many of those. Have I lived well, probably not? So maybe I’ll call it a special kind of regret. More of a longing for opportunities that you didn’t even know you had, let alone wasted. It is like wanting to take a glimpse of the life you feel you was taken away from you even before you lived it. Wanting just a few minutes, to live, or at least watch how that would have been, how it would have felt like.  Does that even make sense? Does anyone else ever feel that way?

For me, it’s a constant craving. I feel like I am homesick for a place I am not even sure exists. A place where my heart is full, my body is loved and my soul is understood. It is thought sitting at the back of my mind, never letting me forget that I do not really fit in.; that I never really have. It is this constant feeling that I would fit in better somewhere else, that I belong somewhere else. I do not think I would.  I just like the illusion, and the consolation it brings with it. You see, I like to think of myself as an old soul trapped in my young skin. And so most of my days are just a constant clash, trying to find a balance between who I think I am, and who I should be, who I am expected to be. Would I be happier, would I be more successful, would I love my life more? Would I be myself? Would I fit in my skin better? Would I love the skin I am in? ‘

Do I love the skin I am in? I think I do. Do I really love the skin I am in? Do I? I don’t know. I probably do. But it is one of those questions I do not like answering. So I just push it to the back of mind and stare into the mirror until I find something worth loving. On most days, it is fairly simple. On other days, it isn’t. Is that something I should think about? What for? And even I was to, I already know how that would go. And it all boils down to wanting more than I have, more than I feel like I was ever meant to have. Meant to have? That sounds a lot like fate. Do I believe in fate, destiny? I don’t. I do not want to. I do not want to accept that this is all my life is about. That this numbing feeling of emptiness and dissatisfaction is all I have to show for this agony I call my life. That maybe this is as good as my life gets. Is it? I sure do hope to God it isn’t. Hope to God? Do I really? See, I should think about that too, but then again I know how that will end. I probably do not. Only there are days, I desperately want to believe that he is the only one who could save me. But can he really? Or better yet, will he? Am I that significant?

Speaking of significance, what is the measure of significance? Is it by how many heads you turn when you walk into a room? Or by how much money you have? Is it by how many people love you? How many hearts you’ve broken? How many people shudder in fear at the sound of your name? How many hearts forget to breathe in your presence? How many souls you keep awake at night? How many souls have kept me awake at night? Let’s see, that would my soul. And my head, and my tears, and my lungs that tightened from all that crying and my throat that closed up, perhaps attempting to lock out the pain, save me from my thoughts. I do not know. All I know is I couldn’t breathe, and for a while, I was convinced I wouldn’t see the morning.  But morning still came. And I woke up still wondering. What if I let him call me? What if I wasn’t an introvert? What if?

i made a bucket list..

i don’t know how true this is, but lately, i have been feeling like i am in a really good emotional space. don’t misunderstand me, I’m still what most people would call a wreck, but for some reason, that doesn’t bother me. i have actually gotten to the point where my thoughts don’t bother me. while previously, i would do whatever it takes not to think, these days i look forward to Friday nights, to being alone in the house, to getting lost in my thoughts. and here is the best part, i no longer get the urge to jump out the window. and if that isn’t happiness, i don’t know what is. see, here is the thing with happiness, if you do not accept it in small doses, you are bound to overlook it. so i made a “bucket list.” and the only thing was to note those little things that made me feel happier. and i found lots. lets see:

happiness is finding the right shade of red lipstick. the kind that that makes you want to just stay in your room and stare at your lips. the kind that my friend thinks makes me look like Lorde. that shade that makes that random guy on the street complement your lips.

happiness is that shopkeeper you haven’t seen in two semesters remembering your name.

happiness is finding a favorite cookie store. and better yet, finding a cookie store with an attendant that gives you extra cookies because he thinks you look beautiful.

happiness is being in a crowded hotel trying to get your breakfast and of all people, the attendant asks for your name. and maybe I’m being a little cocky, but you could tell he wanted to ask for more than just your name.

happiness is being in the house alone on a Friday night, just you, a healthy amount of alcohol, french fries, good music and a hilarious comedy show.

happiness is being able to stop yourself from texting that guy you like. and even better, the realization that you are okay with whatever is going on, or not going on for this matter.

happiness is getting random “i love you” texts from your best friend. i don’t know, there is something about having a guy best friend that makes you feel like all boys could go screw themselves, like you got all the love you could possibly need from a guy.

happiness is gradually getting comfortable in your own skin. accepting yourself for who you are. not making excuses or apologies for doing things the way you do them. it is not trying too hard to seem likeable and fun. happiness is eventually trying to stop fixing yourself. understanding that your broken pieces are what fit perfectly to make you who you are. happiness is not being able to sleep because your thoughts about your miserable life just won’t let you, but for some reason, loving that life and not wanting to trade it for the world. happiness is in those cold, lonely, early mornings; when you feel like you are loosing your mind and still being okay with it because you finally understand that an essential part in getting your peace of mind is losing your mind.

happiness is when you stop fighting your life and just live it. let time do it’s thing. at least it is for me.

Shadow of my footprints

So sometime back, my sister asked me if I have ever been heart-broken. I said no. this is for two reasons. First, I do not like admitting, even to myself, that I have been heartbroken. Some part of me desperately wants to believe that I am not that emotionally pathetic.(I mean, hearts don’t really break. Come on people.) But the main reason why I denied it is; I have this theory that my sister’s fate is connected to mine. Like she is the shadow of my footprints. I keep thinking that she will walk the paths I regret walking, pay for my mistakes, that she will feel my pain. And god knows, I would do anything to shield her from pain. Even her own. So I convinced myself that if she never knows my problems, that maybe she will have easier relationships. I know it doesn’t work that way, it’s just easier to swallow.

And today, I was thinking about my sister. She has grown up so fast. In my head, she is still the seven year old that got so jealous and insecure when my other sister was born. I cannot believe she is turning seventeen. Hell, I do not believe it when we are walking down the street and men turn to stare. I do not believe that there are phone calls that she cannot answer when I am in the room. And I know one of those people on the other side of the line will one day convince her inexperienced heart that they love her. And yeah, that scares the hell out of me. And while there is nothing much I can do about it, I am just going to write the answer I was too immature to give her then.

So yes, I have been heart-broken. And it sucks a whole lot. And it just keeps sucking for a while. And I know this, because I have endured a lot of pain. And I won’t lie, there is nothing more disorienting than knowing that no matter how good you were, you just were never good enough for someone else. There is nothing more humiliating than missing someone who doesn’t even think of you. There is nothing as helpless as walking up every morning thinking about someone who know too well doesn’t deserve it. Hell, it hurts not to be over someone. And I would like to tell you that I found a way to make the pain go away, but I did not. All I know, which is very little, is that you just have to stay alive. Keep missing them till you don’t. Because this I can promise you, one day you going to wake up and realize you don’t miss them. It might take a day, a month or a year, but it will happen. You just have to get there. Because it is one of the best feelings.

Meanwhile, I am going to be here for you. And yes, I am not very good at expressing emotion, but if you ever want to talk, or just cry, I promise to sit and listen. And even better, rack my brains till I find something mildly comforting to say. And should I ever run out of words, which I most definitely will, I promise to eat cake with you and see how much of that pain we can make sweet. I promise to eat as much ice cream as I can tolerate even if it is just to pretend that we are freezing your pain. And that still doesn’t work out, we will try and see how many shots of vodka could drown your pain away, even if it just for a night. (Just do not tell mum I said that.) But if I am ever unable to do this for you, please promise me you will stay alive.