Blink of an eye.

I cried a lot just now. A WHOLE freaking lot.

*

Life’s funny. I was driving along, minding my own business, listening to music and chilling. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw a bird swoop down and then I heard a light thud.

A light sickening thud which .. well. I can’t describe it.

I knew the bird hit my car, or the car had hit my bird: either way I was praying for it to be okay despite the odds. Constantly checking my rear view mirror, the more time I spent looking at it, the more convinced I was that it had flown away.

I reached my house, parked in front of my house and got off to open the gate. As soon as I got in front of my car I saw a dead bird.

And I cried. Alot. A lot a lot alot.

*

I’d done ten thousand different things today. I went to university in the morning. Had a meeting. Went out for lunch. Came back. Did an assignment. Went out again. From 10am to 6.30pm I’d been busy.

If only I’d spend one more minute at lunch. If only I’d spent one more minute in university. If only I hadn’t overtaken one car. If I hadn’t stopped at the traffic light. If I’d left university a little later.
I wouldn’t have killed the bird.

*

Mom saw me crying when I came in so naturally she was alarmed. When I told her the reason she shrugged it off.

*

Maybe its because a couple of years ago I saw a dead bird on the road – which had become roadkill. Maybe its because a saw its mate flitting about the dead bird chirping as loud as it probably could. Maybe I saw it fly away when a car approached and fly back as soon as the car crossed. I can’t get that image out of my head. Never have, never will.

*

I’ve seen what happens to people when their significant other passes away. They become hysterical. Flit about. Crying the whole time.

*

I fucking killed a bird.

F.r.i.e.n.d.s

I think all I’ve ever wanted, socially, is a group of friends. One group, with people who are friends with each other and make plans together and takes trips together and celebrate little things and just be friends.

And somehow I never got a group. School was fragmented people and politics. University was fragmented people and politics and while we did become an amazing group at the end of it, it clearly wasn’t made to last.

People have started working, there are sub groups everywhere and people have moved away. The sub groups come first. New people. New circumstances. The group is dead.

I’ve always been trying to keep the group together but now I’m done. Completely.

I don’t have a group and I don’t even have a sub-group to fall back on.

I need new friends? Who’ll ask me to come with, if they plan a trip. Or go to a concert . Or go out shopping. Or at least include me in their plans.

However, I think it might be too much to ask for at this point.

*

Sighs.

* 

Hmm.

I have so much going on that I can’t even take time out to arrange my thoughts.

Deep breaths.

So I’m constantly conflicted these days. What is ethical, what is moral, what is right and what is wrong? – these questions are plaguing me.

Don’t have the time (or the brains) to talk about all of those right now so I’ll just let them be for now. However, there’s another one bugging me right now and since I have a minute, help?

I’m not a feminist. I like doors being held open. I like not waiting in lines. I like guys being respectful around girls and treating them like they’re fragile, delicate creatures. Maybe cuz, lets face it – girls are pretty helpless (generally)..

Like, who doesn’t like being treated like a princess am I right?

I’m not the kind of person who would let a guy pay for her all the time, cuz I think everyone should carry their own weight. If I’m low on cash, I would prefer not eating than getting treated. And just like that, I don’t like it when guys expect girls to treat them all the time. Occasionally is cool, obviously. I like making people happy (if, and when I can) – but I don’t like when guys want to be treated all the time.

Is that stupid? Thinking that guys should not do that?

*

It’s weird. A friend was once telling me how he doesn’t let girls pay.  And I told him that’s stupid. I went on to say that girls should pay for themselves and guys should pay for themselves. And I still stand by that.

Dilemma: Am I being a hypocrite if I think guys paying is cute and girls paying is just weird?

*

Is this life?

I’m tired of making an effort. Exhausted to the bone.

Keep everyone happy. Maintain a social life. Keep in touch with all your friends. Keep up grades at your university. Be a good daughter. Be good at whatever you do. Do a lot, as much as humanly possible.

Don’t I get a break?

A power button.

Computers give us so many options. Sleep. Hibernate. Restart. Shutdown.

I wish we had those options. Restart for when you felt wise enough to start over. Or pained, but not pained enough. You want a restart because you’re done with your life, but you don’t hate it enough to shut down.

Sleep for as long as you wanted. No questions asked. No biological inconveniences. Just sleep. And there would be no ‘how can she be SLEEPING at this hour?!’..People would understand.

Hibernate for years at a time. You’d stop aging. Your body would slow down. Time would bend for you. Other peoples lives would go on. And you could choose to wake up whenever you felt like you were ready to live life all over again. Kinda like coming back to school after vacations.

Then you’d have a shut down option. This would be when you decided you were content with whatever you’ve done. You could do more, obviously. But you’re happy. You would have the option of settling your affairs and tying up loose ends and voila. That’s about it.

I’m done. I’ve had a good life. Learnt lots. Seen places. Received boundless love. Felt boundless love. Had amazing friends. Amazing experiences. Thrills. Silly laughter fits. Adventures. I’ve done everything. I’m done now.

If only I had an option. I’d tie up loose ends, settle my affairs and shut down.

I am two people.

Meet me. The happy-go-lucky, carefree, open, fun loving and high on life me. The girl who takes the phrase ‘joie de vivre’ to a whole new level. Someone who’s hell bent on making people smile. Diffusing unpleasant situations. The life of the party. The one keeping everyone together.
Sounds nice?

Meet the other me. The messed up me. The eternally depressed me. The one who keeps herself in pain because she knows no other way to cope. The one who can’t began to fathom happiness because she doesn’t think she deserves it. The one who will do anything and everything to push everyone away, just because she can’t imagine being really truly happy.  She doesn’t want to be.

I keep telling people I’m messed up. They don’t believe me. Let’s see what lasts.

What is love?

“Wo muhabbat he kia, jo sawwal karna janti ho.. jo fark rakhna jaanti ho, jo sochna jaanti ho..”

“What kind of love is a love.. which knows how to question, knows how to differentiate.. knows how to think?”

Fuck that.

I am going to work on beong emotionally dead now. Fuck everything, don’t expect, don’t get fucked. 

I bruise easily.

Maybe its because i expect too much. Okay, it definitely is. Let me elaborate.

*

I love amusement parks. LOVE them. You’re probably thinking, who doesnt?! right?

But they’re my happy places. And my city does’nt have one. Sad.

Anyway, we have a tiny amusement park type thing in a mall. And they have dodge ’em cars. And I’ve been whining about gping on them for six months now. And yesterday my friends all went tothat tiny.. and did the whole dodge em car thing too. 

I didnt go to the mall with my friends because I had work but then the least they could do was not do the dodge ’em cars.. right? 

Considering that’s the only thing I really wanted to do all semester. 

*

He promised he’d go with me. Bastard.

**

I think I’m hormonal. I normally don’t cry this much in a year.

*

He promised he’d try. After that big fat blowout. And I was ecstatic. 

Day before yesterday i asked him if he’d changed his mind about trying. After avoiding the question alot, he told me he cant .. try. He did go all.. ‘CANT WE BE FRIENDS?’ 

I was bawling befpre that but I think I stopped for a split second then. And I’m sure my face described the word ‘incredulous’ .. or ‘whatthefuckishesaying’. 

So he essentially told me that he likes being friends with me..after what five years of us knowing we’ll get married?

I asked him how I could possibly move on from that, and he told me that was my problem.

*

Bastard.

 

Hope.

Hope either leads to euphoria like you’ve never experienced before, or it crushes you. Again, and again, and again.

 

And you stand right there. Hoping.