A New Hope

So this is what having self esteem and validation feels like.

Positive feedback

People who tell you to 'get over it' and 'learn to love yourself' don't realize how much other people's words and feelings can matter when you've been alone and insecure all your life. When your self-love comes from your service to others, it's difficult to explain to people who don't think the same way, since so many of us have been molded to believe that "the first person you should care about is yourself".

And when I find a reason to be more secure in myself, the unseen difficulty is that I have to hold myself back from dumping all my years of inadequacy and loneliness on her so that, for once, just once, I can feel human.

But that's not exactly what this is about.

This is about simple pleasures, and consent, and confidence.

She gave me her consent to make her happy, and by God, I did make her happy. Her happiness and her trust makes me more content than anything else - now I have the solid confidence to say I know what makes me happy in life, and it is simultaneously the most and the least selfish thing in the world.

But maybe I'm needlessly abstract. That's what overthinking does to you.

It's nice to know I'm good with my hands. At least some part of me is good for something greater than myself.

Pain, Pain, Go Away

Title says it all, really, don't you think?

It strikes again. And just when I thought I might start to make something of myself ... I don't know if I can power through this. 

And as usual, yes, I know, other people have worse problems ... and yes, I know that doesn't invalidate my issues ... and yes, I am painfully aware this is useless mental griping.

At least if existential agony burned some calories I might have had something to show for it. As it is, with the brain using a full 25% of all the oxygen taken in by the body, I feel underwhelmed by the results.

Somebody tell me why I'm doing this, again?

The Strongest Among Us

Somebody who's strong can hurt others.

I keep myself weak so that the only thing I hurt is myself.

Self-importance

Some people are really fond of saying "If something is really important enough to you, you'll find a way to make it happen".

I know exactly how important it is. I lay awake at night thinking of the things that are important to me.

I don't think they are capable of understanding that I don't feel I am important enough.

Consent

When you choose to scale a mountain, you never ask how the mountain feels about it.
When you eat a sandwich, you never ask the bread or meat for its consent.
When you run a race, you never ask the finish line (or anyone else) if you can cross it.
When you fly in an aeroplane, you never ask gravity if it consents to being defied.
When you play an instrument, you never ask the instrument if it wants to be played.
When you watch TV, you never ask the TV before turning it on.
When you sleep, you never ask your bed if it is ready to be slept in.

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But what about other people?
What about the only people that matter to me?
What about me?

How do they feel?
How will I feel if they do not feel as I feel? What right do I have to their feelings?
What possible justification can I give that would convince them to grant me their consent, even once?

To achieve the trust of fellow human being is so much more difficult than to conquer a goal. Because how they feel about it is so intrinsically important.

Attachment

I remember when I was a child, someone somewhere got me a Tamagotchi electronic pet.
I remember wanting to take care of it.
I remember that my aunt saw it and threw it away calling it "a devilish influence".
I remember crying.

I remember my brother deleting my entire music collection of about fifty songs in the late 90s. He will never appreciate how bad that hurt me.

I remember feeling the shock in my chest when I found out that Ellie died in 2013, even though I barely knew her.
She was a wonderful person.

I remember nearly getting my friend and I killed while taking an unauthorized U-turn on a major highway in Goa.

I remember Chenoa hugging me hard in 2015 and me wishing she would never let go.

I remember first seeing Hemangi when I arrived in Mumbai and subconsciously praying to see her again even though I don't pray.

I remember, I remember.

I remember, when I was growing up, never feeling comfortable sleeping unless I was holding on to at least two, maybe three, more pillows than I actually needed.

I wish I could forget.
I wish I could remember what I've already forgotten.

But most of all -

I wish ... I wish I know how to not care.

Just ... The Worst

Perspective is the most terrible curse of sentience.

Women's Day

For my birthday ...

Give me a chance to make you happy.

A Rock And A Hard Place

I had dinner with her.

The pain resumes in my chest yet again. I should never have even suggested a meal; to think I could deal with my malformed emotions is but a fevered madman's dream.

And I would die inside if I were to lose her friendship. But, to me, how could she ever remain a friend?

I wish we had never met. Would she agree?