I Could

I could go and find someone. In this world, it is easy to find a temporary fix. The basal needs have to be met. I thought I was a person of intellect, driven by curiosity, satisfied by only pure connection. But this life has brought me to my knees. My mind tells me to run, like a dog kicked in the streets, the fear of humans runs deep. Yet, every cell in my body screams for a connection. 

I could find someone. They won't be the one. I can stop myself from getting too involved. I can run before getting attached. Still, I will be the one hurt by the end, regretting every decision, blaming myself for getting into it in the first place. 

How does one do it? How does one take and not lose? How does one look into another's eyes and just simply look away? Rent warmth for a little time, exchange some meaningless words, and forget. 

I could give up on finding the one. Maybe "the one" is a concept fabricated by lit majors so we keep buying their books. All we do is convince ourselves that we found it to fulfill the basic need for intimacy, contact, or even just more practical needs of money and family. This is why the practical will win.

 

If I Could Go Back

On my 32nd birthday, I received a letter from my past. From myself, when I was 22. I had hope. It is almost surreal to go back and imagine the hopium I was surviving on, the belief I had of a happier and peaceful tomorrow. I did check out the boxes on which I had control: got a job she would respect, got out far away from that house, got my own real money, got my house, and, most importantly, saw new and inspiring places! 

Now, if I could write a letter to my past self, I think it would vary a lot by age. 

28 year old: You are mishandling life. Again, you are missing a clear strategy. We need a strategy for papers we want, for the life we want. I know we don't know what we want, but in the process you're letting things pass you buy. Make a concrete plan. For people, be very selective because the trauma isn't worth it. RUN FAR AWAY FROM THAT DUDE. Your instincts are spot on, he is trash even though it feels like someone you know and find fun. He is like someone you know, the worst ones. Pick the other dude, he seems boring but boring trumps trauma !!!!!!!!!!!!! I can't even emphasize strongly enough how important this is. We need a concrete plan and we can elevate our future life so much more! Get serious, don't look for a quick fix to your loneliness and pain. Be very selective and test people before investing. You have some great opportunities coming your way, don't squander them by getting so hurt by these losers that you can't embrace it. This could really elevate your life only if you pick right. Trust me. Also, don't run, lift weights and build your knees before you do your crazy running. 

25 year old: Take the first one. You, right now, are trading a happier place and a better program for a made up prestige of a university. Take it, even if you feel like you are being handed this one, take it and we'll figure it out. Also, you are wasting energy on that guy. He will never be what you think he can be. Just let it be a friendship, travel, and let go of the expectation. 

20 year old: You have just survived the hardest part of your life. I understand how much you want to run away, how much numb you are because things haven't hit you yet, but the only way is through. Process it now so it doesn't hit all in a wave when you turn 30. You have time, focus on the skills you are building, and don't think you will find anyone to help. The help never comes. You only got you. They will all change their tune once you get where you are going. You always deserved it even though you never got it. 

15 year old: Shit is about to hit the fan! I am not even joking. Right now, I guess you are in 8th-9th grade, and things feel like finally turning out well. 10th will go fine, no problem. BUT, after that will be the worst 3 years of your damn life. Your world be warped and turned upside down. I don't know if telling her now or warning him would make any difference.  Maybe it won't. But you lost sight of the goal and dissociated. Cut the chord of the damn computer, never join facebook, and get comfortable with misery. Get single minded and focused. You can do this, make a strategy with multiple fallback options. Don't let him put you in that coaching institute to save a few pennies. If this goes the way it went for me, it will weigh on you for your entire life and you will never be rid of it, like a face tattoo. I know it is unfair, yet this is the situation. Those people are not worth your time or energy. Don't bury your head in the sand to avoid the situation. Let it burn, get some real help, and let him say horrible shit to you. It will be worth it in the end. Fight now so you can live later. Otherwise, you'll be a shell existing through years just for nothing. Slowly, everything will erode to a point where you won't even like your own reflection. 

6 to 13 year old: Childhood is not our time, really. You are about to lose some people. There will be peace, relatively, at home afterwards. But your life will be shit. You will be bullied mercilessly in the new school, you won't have any friends, and no one will give you an ounce of grace. You will be accused to things you didn't even think possible. But life is like this for us. No one will leave us alone and no one will appreciate us either. Grow your hair out now, start running to lose the weight, don't eat cookies, and get back to your 3rd grade self. Teach yourself. Find books and read more books. There is nothing to gain from the people around you, they won't amount to anything anyways. Don't internalize the harassment, work on your health and education. That is our only grace. You will have to put in twice as much to get half. That's just how life is for us. Running really does help you in so many ways and you can do it. You don't understand this right now, but you're teetering between intense hopium and great numbness. This will be your life if you don't change now. It will only get exponentially worse. Every single day. Brace for impact, prepare your body and mind. You have the strength of attention span, dedication, and the ability to teach yourself. Get the books and pave a path that will take you out of this shithole. We are nobody's favorite person, and that's OK. It gets so much worse, but then once to get to a better place all those bitches come back love bombing. It's a whiplash that can break the neck, and certainly the brain. The only is through elevating your thought, your skills, and your competency. Own your truth, read, and focus on bettering your brain and body. I know it hurts a lot right now, but we can't change people or wish for some miracle; nothing is coming and no one is going to help. The only way is through dedicated hard work. We might not be gifted through IQ, but are gifted in dedication, perseverance, and the ability to endure shit. You can do this, you don't need these people. Maybe if you succeed, I won't be writing this to you. 

 Me as a fetus: Dear fetus, if you can understand me, die now. Save yourself, pick something else. This is not worth it. 

Colors of You

I live in two-minute mornings—jeans, shirts, jackets. This is how I live: efficient, unadorned, practical. But in my closet hangs evidence of who I'm waiting to be: a little black dress, a glittery top with suede pencil skirt, a flowing amber sundress. These aren't ornaments for someone else's pleasure. They're promises to myself, waiting for the right witness. 

I want to be a person desired. Not reduced to an object, but recognized as a being of beauty. And I want you to be the one who sees it.

I dream of cooking you dinner in the deep red dress, letting you taste my city through the flavors I know best. Of 3am coffee dates in the emerald slip, your fingers tracing its silk hem as we talk until sunrise. Of driving out to catch pink sunsets in coordinated denim, your hand warm on my thigh as the sky ignites. 

This is what I've never known: to love so deeply that transformation feels necessary. To want to bloom not from emptiness, but from fullness. To have someone whose attention makes beauty feel like breathing rather than performance.

The weight of searching for you sits heavy on my chest. I know I'll survive without you. But will I ever feel truly alive until you're here to witness me step into the woman I'm keeping carefully folded away?

 

Distaste for Life

A life of nothingness. 

I always chased meaning, purpose, and joy. Initially, the purpose was to escape the house, to save myself. Once I managed to find a kinder space, I happened upon joy too. But there was no meaning in the work. Just pushing tasks from one screen to another. Took a leap for a higher purpose and meaning, fell flat on my face. Now, I have nothing. I keep sinking deeper into an abyss of numbness. I question everything I do. What is the point of anything? I survived, but I never learned how to live. Now, I see no point in living, yet I keep living. Am I living? I don't think this is living; this is just existing for the sake of it. 

If all you do is wake up, work, doomscroll, eat, sleep--- is that living?

If all you remember is suffering for each past year and no hope of it being better---is that living? 

If you run from everyone you know to point of being absolutely lonely--- is that living?

If there is not a single soul on this planet you willingly want to call-- is that living?

If you wish it all ended tomorrow---is that living?

What to make of a life lived in fear, pain, and just misery? I got everything I wanted, yet nothing I needed.  

32

 I didn't think my life could feel worse, but it does. Last week, I turned 32 and WOW! I got robbed, got screamed at by a restaurant owner, the general disrespect, and today I got my worst performance review. A mentor said, "you complain about things when they could be much worse." What does that even mean? 

Why am I living this life? What have I got? More ridicule, more problems, and lost my health. Didn't think it could get this bad. I guess I don't belong in this world anymore.

The Pull Within

A perfect rainy day, with the greens glowing under brooding skies. But there is nothing to keep me warm. 

I love a rainy, cloudy day. An enormous green couch, a soft, feathery comforter to snuggle under; windowsill flowers coming alive in the mist. I should be at peace. My heart should be full. Then why does an overwhelming, haunting ache capture my being? 

I make no claims to understand love—its depths or bounds. Clearly, it is only for the fortunate few. Still, is it too much to ask—for warmth? A shared silence? A momentary intertwining of souls? A heart beating near mine. A breath, deep, felt on my skin. A friend, known and unknown. 

 Make no mistake: I am equally to blame. Nothing simply aparates out of thin air. My fears—like a cage around the heart—hold me in place. The wounds pulse beneath the surface. A scab forms, then breaks. Nothing ever really heals. 

I fall too quickly. I hope too hard. My mind imagines golden futures that will never be. Then I run, as it all falls apart. Too vulnerable for this anymore, I keep the door closed. 

And so, the weekend remains incomplete. 

The warmth—imagined. 

The rain—real. 

The ache—unrelenting.

 A Pull Within