Rosy Retrospection

There are two types of people in this world (actually there are many, many different types of people in this world, but for the sake of the theme of this post, let's simplify the shit and keep it to two, okay?) : those who are proud and/or happy with the changes that have transpired in or around them, and those who hate the person they've turned into and feel guilty that their younger version wouldn't be proud of them.

I'm the latter kind. Well, not so much guilty about not being able to impress my younger self, than envying it. I am really jealous of the person I used to be, because honestly, I was a real chill person to hangout with. I was pretty ugly back then, and my cool attitude just kind of crossed it to make my life a bitter-sweet trudge, because I was fun enough to make guys constantly want to talk to me, but my ugly face made sure that they never liked me enough to want to date me. So basically, I would end up in that friendzone when they neither want to be associated with me romantically in public, but would come crawling to me on DMs just to make their day better, or to simply have a good time in general.

And I know exactly why that doesn't happen anymore.

 Back then, I never tried too hard. Sure, I still liked pleasing people back then. Since the start, I had always loved the feeling of being considered cool, or popular. The very thought that I mattered to people, mattered to me. But despite that, I never pushed too far. I knew when someone did not think of me as highly as I would've preferred them to, but I never gave myself hell over it. Sure, it put a little damper on the mood sometimes, but I never used to let it get to me too bad. And I think it's very natural to let things affect you a bit, from time to time. And maybe that's why people flocked to me. Because I was cool enough to not stress over the little bits in life, but not cold enough to be an emotionless brick. Plus, the only things I used to lose my shit over, were for completely rational reasons, and that was validated by a number of friends. So all in all, I was this really nice person who knew how to take jokes and tell good stories and be witty on text, but at the same time, would get a hell lot of respect for not taking any unnecessary shit from anyone. 

But now? Now I'm reduced to this depressed and anxious wreck who is so sooo conscious of people not liking her, that I could give Colin Singleton (An Abundance of Katherines) a run for his money when it came to feeling insecure all the damn time. Now, I would end up crying silently in the taxi all the way home about how none of my friends love me enough, after spending an entire day laughing and joking with them. Getting left on Read while texting is enough of a reason to ruin my day, because the thought 'THEY DONT CARE ENOUGH ABOUT YOU TO EVEN BOTHER REPLYING' keeps spinning round and round in my head like a loud, annoying siren. I'm constantly worried about my friends getting tired of me, and leaving me behind. I have abandonment issues so intense and overwhelming, that I feel ashamed even discussing them with other people, because I feel they'll constantly see me as a needy, clingy, perpetually sad burden, which I probably am. And I don't want to drive them further away. 

I know these thoughts are probably because of my mental state, and 90% of it is just a paranoid, illogical mess. And that's why I wish I could go back to being the way I was. Caring only to the point that was harmless. Because even though I haven't totally transformed suddenly into an unrecognizable hottie, at least I am not painful to look at anymore. And with this slightly significant improvement, and my old attitude, I can imagine quite a few boys who wouldn't probably grimace at the thought of dating me. And maybe that might boost my confidence and rid me of my abandonment issues, and maybe that'll solve everything.

But the only problem is, I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to be my old self again, and I don't know if I'll ever be.

What It Really Feels Like//Pt.2

A lot of people misunderstand depression as a state of being constantly sad. They mistake it as something that's just when you're 'feeling low'. It's not.

When you're depressed, it's not just a bad mood. It's not something you have any control over and it's not situational. You can have a perfect life and yet be dealing with depression.
It's hard to explain depression to normal people who feel emotions the usual way, who have a sense of purpose in life or even who just want to live their life just for the sake of it, people who rightfully treat life as a gift. Because it is hard for them to fathom an absolute darkness that slowly creeps over you and fills you, draining you of all emotions. It takes everything from you, and leaves you feeling hollow and numb.
It's that feeling of wanting to cry and you don't even know why, and no stopping once you do start crying. Two hours, three hours. Muffling those sobs in your bed, in that washroom cubicle, in that corner of subway, just so no one overhears you crying and sees how pathetic you are. You would do almost about anything to not feel this way, to be normal, to be happy.  You feel overwhelmingly trapped, and you see no way out of this void. It's neither sadness nor anger, just helplessness. It's an empty hollowness that leaves you feeling alone even in a room full of people. You feel like there's no hope left.
Cynthia Go, a beautiful poet, once accurately described depression:
"It is the feeling of tiredness that creeps on you even if you haven't done anything all day long. It's the crying spells that overtake you when you are finally left alone after a long day of pretending to be okay. It is waking up every 2AM with your thoughts all jumbled up and morose.... It is wanting to be somewhere that isn't part of 'here and now', wherever that is, at whatever point of time."

All of this becomes a whole lot worse when you've got depression induced anxiety, which legit fucks you up. You think about every single thing someone says to you twice, shit maybe even three times, trying to figure out if they were just lying to you too or if they really mean what they say. You have this constant anxiety which makes you overthink when they short text or take a while to reply.
At times, it makes you think people in your life are hiding something from you, or worse, are leaving you. You begin to feel abandoned, and not worth anything because the most important person/people in your life didn't want you. So you push away for fear of being hurt. You push them away so they can't discard you or leave you. When in reality, no one was leaving. Anxiety this bad, it makes you leave the ones you love.

The thing about having mental illness is that, you're aware that at a particular point, people are going to lose their patience. You know they can be understanding and loving and caring, but only for so long. If you keep going to them with the same issues, they're going to get tired one day. They're going to be done reassuring you all the time and/or being your support. And that is scary, not being able to count on anyone to be with you 100%, because people get bored, and they leave. So you avoid talking about your issues, just so you don't come off as annoying, hoping to extend the expiry date of their love and care. But it's hard to keep pretending everything is fine all the time, so you start avoiding them more and more, because neither do you want to annoy them with your issues, nor do you have the energy left to fake chill. You don't realize, but you're slowly distancing yourself from them, out of the very fear of losing them.
Do you now understand how fucked up a depressed mind is? Do you now understand how depression is more than just feeling sad? You can't just cheer up, and nothing helps you feel better. You can smile and laugh and still want to kill yourself, just so you can escape this complicated void. 

What It Really Feels Like

You'll laugh at me. You'll probably joke about it. You won't believe me. You'll think I'm doing it for attention. And yet you'll blame me for not talking it out with you when I start distancing myself because I once did. I really tried and all you did was ridicule me.

You don't understand how it feels, you won't ever get me. You'll tell me to stop over thinking. You'll tell me to be positive and not focus on the bad things. But you don't get it. I can not help it. My mind keeps telling me things I should not believe. It keeps telling me that you don't want me around. Even if you shout,"BUT I DO! I LOVE YOU!" and drown out that voice, it'll change. One day, you'll get tired of shouting, one day you'll get tired of holding on. One day you'll get tired. And you'll leave. You're gonna walk away and leave me behind and even if that's what I told myself all along, even if I knew it from the start, it's still going to break me. And I'll be left here, all alone with my mind which won't stop telling me how worthless I am, how no one needs me, how people can do without me, how people have other people, how I can always be replaced. It just overwhelms me that nobody actually wants me around. I'm not saying that everyone hates me, but I don't feel wanted. I feel like people just deal with my existence, and that I'm nobody's special person and if I'm gone, it won't even make a difference, because nobody legitimately needs me. You can always get a new special person. People get bored, they let go, the move on to the next new person and it's scarily sad that I haven't made a mark on someone's life yet. I haven't ever made a person go,"This girl. I don't know if it'll ever be the same without her. I don't ever wanna find out." Even if I did, well, clearly it must've changed. Because at one point, you got done. You did want to find out how it'll be without me. And evidently, you liked it better. You liked your life better without so much of me in it. That's why we drifted apart, didn't we? Because I was always here. It's you who got tired of me. It's you who broke the promises of never walking out when I got too difficult.
You kept me on your shelf, to return to me when you have no one else to turn to. I used to be your first priority, and what hurts is that things have changed but only for you. And I'll just wait here, until someone new comes along with their false promises of forever love and patience. And I'll believe their temporary is permanence. And it'll start all over again, the new You is going to walk away too. My paranoia is going to push you away again and I won't ever stop hurting, with or without you. My brain is never going to stop telling me that I'm worthless, I'll always be feeling alone, I  won't ever be able to talk it out with you, because I'll be scared of annoying you away.

 Always torn between wanting to tell you how low I always feel or keeping it to myself. There's only so much you can listen to, there's only so much you can understand. I get how hard it can be to fathom how a person can be so unhappy all the damn time. On the other hand, I can keep it all to myself and end up distancing myself from you, pushing you away. Also, pretending everything is fine is to ignore who you are and lose yourself. I don't mean depression is my personality, but it has taken over it. I vaguely remember how I used to be, who I really was before all this but I can't recall what it feels like to be truly happy anymore.
So tell me what do I do? Which is better? To have friends who think you're a sad, hopeless shell and have them get tired of you? Or to drown in your mind?

The Perpetual Woe

I have problems, yes. I have issues I'm trying to deal with. I know what hurts me, I know what breaks me, I know people who feel the same and I know I'm not alone. But that never stopped me from feeling lonely, from feeling all the hurt, from dragging myself through nights of intense suffering and tears and pain.
Every once in a while, I meet someone who I think can fix me. I choose this person, I direct all my love towards this person, all the affection I'm capable of is all for this one person. I see this person, and my heart lights up with happiness that I thought I never deserved. Turns out, I was right in assuming that I did not, in fact, deserve that happiness. I choose this person, but this person doesn't choose me. I open up to this person, my mind deluded into believing that this is The One. That I'll never open up to another person and this person is the only one who deserves all of me. Opening up to someone doesn't only mean discussing my issues with them, but also attempting to make them a part of my life. I send this person screenshots of chats with other people, tell them about my friends, send them memes that amuse me and quotes that I can relate to. I wrongly believe that this person is the one who will never hurt me.

I couldn't be more off-mark in my judgement. I incorrectly assume I will reap their love, just because I love them so. I end up shattered when the harsh reality hits me. I feel like Calypso, stranded on her lonely island, with no one to share her thoughts with. Even when a hero finally comes along, he's cursed to be unable to stay and he eventually leaves her. It's either her or the world, and every time, the hero chooses the world. But unlike her, I don't have the luxury to wallow in self-pity. I don't have the right to say, "I wish I knew how it felt being someone's first choice" because there were people who did put me first, who did treat me like their first choice, but I never treated them right. So maybe this is just Karma for not loving people right.
But isn't Karma supposed to be balanced? You hurt one person, and one person hurts you?
There's so much turmoil inside this little heart, and the anxiety in my head just makes it worse. This vicious cycle between self-pity and guilt doesn't get any better when you constantly have this voice inside your head that keeps telling you that no one ever truly loved you, and no one ever will, just because you're a pathetic mess.


Every time I confide in someone about all this, they end up leaving. Even if they don't, they try to stick around only out of pity. And that makes it worse to move on, because if you had left I would at least have had some reason to hate you. I could blame you for abandoning me when I trusted you but I can't.
Because you chose to stay.

You said you love me (but apparently not enough to call me yours) and that hurts more. Because I'll only fall deeper for you, and the fact that you're so close yet so far will eat me up inside until there's nothing left to feel. That's the day I walk out on you. I'll feel empty until the day I meet someone else, and eventually I'll repeat all my mistakes and let this someone else fuck me up too.
I just want to get out of this cycle of endless pain, but I don't know how to. I want to feel okay, but it sucks to know that you're the only one who can make me feel so. It sucks because you're the one who has the potential to hurt me the most too.
I don't want this. I just want to be happy, please.
Please.

The End? The End.

Dear My 15-Year-Old Self,

You are attempting suicide for the first time today. I don't remember clearly why, but I'm pretty sure it's for a reason very petty (no need to get indignant at this, your excuse is definitely pettier than any I have now). Also, you're gonna fail. You're gonna chicken out and you're gonna be glad that you did, because you'll soon realize that it in fact, was a petty reason indeed. You're gonna be happy for a while, noticing and appreciating all the things and people that you would've missed out on if your attempt hadn't been an epic fail.

But one year rolls by, and soon enough, you will find yourself making an attempt to hold onto those very things and people who gave you a reason to live. You will have to keep reminding yourself that nothing ('NOTHING!' you will fiercely repeat in your head) is worth giving up on all those people and all those things that matter, and neither is anything worth to let go of the daydreams about the various first experiences you're yet to have. But guess what? Those attempts shall soon turn into a full-fledged struggle, an all out war between the part of you that wants to live and the part that wants to give up.
You will realize the latter has won when you find yourself holding 13 Flexon tablets (500mg paracetamol each). You will swallow them one by one, as quickly as you can so as to avoid any second thoughts that might surface, and you would almost tell yourself to slow down in fear of choking on the tabs, before you realize with dry humor why you're taking the tabs in the first place. You're gonna be glad (and a bit nauseous) when you swallow all the thirteen tablets, thinking that it will finally be all over. But hopes only lead to disappointments, you shall realize a few hours later as you crouch over the sink, vomiting out all the poison. You're gonna hate yourself and you're gonna hate your life. But what do you know?

A couple of years later, you will finally be ready to accept that maybe it was for the best. You will have new people in your life, new things to look forward to, new (and way less fatal) methods to escape reality when it gets a little too grim. You will finally be what they call 'okay'. But know this, it gets worse. Yes, these new people will leave you. You're going to open up to them, you're going to expect them to stay and accept your broken self, and hope they love you as much as you love them. You're going to make amazing memories with these people and delude yourself into believing that what you have with these people is real. Reality checks hit hard, you will realize. The people you gave your heart out to will abandon you, they will let you down and they will let you go, no matter how much you beg them to stay. You're going to hurt yourself over this until you meet more people. You will then follow the same pattern. Foolishly trusting each new soul, pouring yours out to everybody you trust, carrying your heart out on your sleeve. You won't understand why everyone keeps leaving you when you're giving them your all. But that will be the very reason, as you will eventually know that all these people only took you for granted and left when you tried to confront them about it. You will be in a mess trying to understand how to change yourself. You would want to stop letting people hurt you like this, and no means of escapism will fix that. None except death.

And that's what I'm here to tell you. No matter how happy you will feel when your first suicide attempt fails, it will be nothing compared to the sadness that shadows me now. Yes, people will leave and yes, it's gonna suck. But you're going to be me, a complete mess for reasons more than just untrustworthy people. I have realized that no one will care-not even the ones who understand you or proclaim to love you-if I just left. I have come a long way from being you to being me, and trust me, the Internet will tell you it essentially gets better, but from what I see, it just has been a downhill tumble. I've suffered enough heartache and I've seen people go numb from it. I think I'm headed there, towards the numbness, the desolate void where no emotion can reach me any longer. The thought scares me. Fear is not one of the best emotions but it is one, nonetheless. And I will like to hold on to it and tons of other emotions for as long as I live. But what else to stop me from slipping into that void than the greatest leap? I'd rather die than be an empty shell.

And that's what I will do. Naive, young 15-year-old self, I tried to be mad at you for chickening out in  that first attempt. But these three years haven't been totally vain. I guess I should thank you for letting me experience all the things that gave me breaks from my Sad-Van trip. The final destination is supposed to be No-Feels Land and from here it looks like a scary place (guess Cowardice-and Disappointment-have been my only true companions). So I'm deciding I'll end my journey here. I got a few good bumps, but not enough to ensure I'll reach my Happy Place, if there ever was one. So with regrets and seemingly eternal sadness, I'll bid you my final goodbye.

Yours Depressed,
Finally Giving Up

Souled Out

He slid down with his back to the door as another tear escaped down his cheek. "Again. Again, again and fucking again!"
He threw his phone across the bed, his chat with Elaine still lit up on the screen.
How many times had he tried to keep people in his life? How many times has he tried to hold on when people just walked out on him?
He stood up and went to pick up the phone, going through the chat once more where she just blandly replies to his texts in monosyllables and then hits him with a, "I don't think our friendship is working out anymore" when he tried to talk to her about it.
His mind went back to all the times other people had similarly dropped him and left, saying he seemed to be too "attached" and "overwhelming". But he could see the attachment only showed when people started distancing themselves. He knew what was going on, he knew perfectly. People liked the newness of friendship, they liked to stick around as long as you were a mystery to them. But as soon as you open up, as soon as you let them in, they get to know you. And either you're too dynamic for them or it's too boring now that there's no "mystery element" left to you.
Oh how he now wished to be just like them. To easily give up on people and let 'em go when you've scraped through every part of them, or at least the amount you can handle.
But he couldn't do that. When he loved a person, he loved with all his heart. He gave all to a person and found them just as beautiful in the end as much as he did the first time he met them. And that's what led him to build expectations that people would stay and care and put in equal efforts, the very expectations that later broke his soul, bit by bit.
He was a wreck. He had always been a wreck. And maybe that's why people abandoned him. Maybe they were scared to come so close to a swirling mass of misery and sadness. That's why he kept it hidden. No one knew that under the jovial smile and the petty jokes was there a person so lost in sadness. But the few people he trusted, few people he wished to lean on, they left him on the ground, crying and kicking himself for making the same mistakes again. And again.
"...and again."
He looked at his phone once more. Elaine was just another name in the endless list of people who played a share in breaking him apart. True he was already an "anxiety case" but the people who walked out on him when he needed them were the ones who made sure he'd be so broken that he'd never be whole again.
He wanted to fix himself, but he didn't know what was wrong. He couldn't figure out, for the life of him, how could he manage to drive off all those people out of his life. He wanted to pick himself on his own, but till he was ready to do that, he needed someone to sit down next to him and hold him tight while he cried it out. He wanted someone to just let him vent and in the end, to tell him what's wrong with him. So that he could make himself right and make sure no one leaves again.
He looked down at the bright screen. Chat head read 'Elaine'. That name was just another addition to the long list of people who gave up on him, and for some reason, he had a feeling it wouldn't be the last.
But till then, he would continue to love, and leave little pieces of himself in everyone he meets. Either they could come together and save him from his hell. Or, and more likely, he'd finally lose all of himself.
That would make it easier to just give up and leave it all behind for good.

Contrariety

He likes going out, partying late into the night, dancing around, moving out. I've never been to a proper party, never drank beer or taken a drug dose.
He likes girls who wear make-up and tight tops. I've never gone farther than the moisturizer and talcum (I wore eyeliner and nailpaint the other day to impress him).
He likes to read travel blogs and writes about facts. I like to read Percy Jackson and Harry Potter, and write about sappy teenage issues.
He likes to work out. I'm averse to any kind of exhaustive physical activity.
He hates clicking random selfies or faking smiles. I keep clicking pictures of everything I love, and my days revolve around fake smiles.
He demands perfection, he wishes to be a God. I rejoice in my flaws, glad to be his mortal devotee.
He cannot be tied down to a single person or place, he demands to be free. If I willed, I can forever pledge my heart to one person for the rest of my life and live in, what others would call it, a golden cage. 
He is all brains. I am all heart.
How could I ever expect it to work? What was I even thinking? It was a pair that wasn't compatible on any level. Then why do I feel so distressed?
My best friend, the one person who knows me, understands me, better than I do myself, told me:
"You're scared, it's natural. Your relationship with him was what finally saved you from the hell you were in. And you were really really happy dating him, because apart from giving you a safe haven, he was also a pretty great guy. Of course you're too messed up, you just broke up with a guy who you thought could give you a lot more. It was bound to leave you messed up, Riya."
He's right. I found solace in our differences. The gaps that were there, taught me a lot of things. The relationship wasn't exactly a smooth one. There were so many things that I wanted to fight about, but his laid-back attitude always reminded me of my pride, and I kept my outbursts to myself. Eventually, I learnt to cut him some slack, without going through an internal conflict every single time. I realized our differences, got out of my comfort zone, and learnt to embrace them. I understood two beautiful virtues through this relationship, patience and flexibility. And even though I'll miss the few beautiful memories we made and the times I used to take pride in associating myself with him, I'm bracing myself to grow out of this pain, and accepting with dignity the one universal aspect he valued so much.
Change.