1.2015.

One month and two days into and this year has already proven that life is crazy. The first day itself was just a whirlwind of activity. Complete and utter madness spilling over till noon. 

My revelations and deliberations. Life. Love. The connections I have made. The reconnections I have made. 

The way your stomach drops when you find out that someone you love has a war inside of them. A war they may not win. But you help them. You fight with them. I've experienced that. 

I've witnessed promises made between a woman and a man. 

I've seen someone I love fall in love with someone who may not love them. 

I've seen youth take on a maturity that overwhelms my own. I've seen a man dedicated to his wife. I have realised the importance of the relationships I have and have had in my life. 

The importance of being positive and not allowing the dark clouds to infiltrate my mind. 

They say your soulmate doesn't always have to be a romantic partner. And I agree. My soulmate is my partner in crime. My best friend. 

They say you don't have only one soulmate. There is more than one whole orange out there. I've found three. Maybe a fourth. My anchor, my moon and my music. 

I've let go. Let go of my anger. My misery. What happened was terrible and it shouldn't have happened. But now it's time to move on. 

I want to say something about academics but I haven't been attending college much. Just been living life. I am excited for my masters. And the brilliant course I've found. 

I've experienced the absurdity of life. The most amazing connection in the most inconvenient manner. But the beauty of it. The fact that these connections can transcend the real and can take us to a different realm altogether. 

The inability to fall sleep and the anger generated in a single body. A rage that can tear people apart lest it be tamed. A day of pure white rage, shut down by a single sentence. 

Blessed by the strength and incredible beauty of one of the more awe-inspiring women I have ever had the pleasure to meet. The woman who carried me in her womb is so much more than I ever realised. 

I have seen a man’s devotion, a love that had never truly surfaced, until now. I have seen them show their affection and the diligence he has to make sure she is comfortable.

Connections have broken, fights have ensued. Harsh words and silent stares.

But I realized that in the end, you need to just live. Take matters into your own hand. Because you are the one who has been through it all, every single second, you have been there. There may be others who have supported you, but you are the only one who has been with yourself through it all. You are born with yourself and die with yourself. You are your own. 

Even if nothing happens the rest of the year the past 33 days have been enough for a lifetime. 

Play The Game.

Mind games are not merely games played on your mind through external forces, but they are games that your mind plays on itself.

One simple picture, that burns an image that lasts a mere 5 seconds can induce a stream of thought that will go on for a disproportionately longer period, say, of 5 days. How this one image can propound itself and turn into a series of images, a television mini series, perhaps a series that even goes on hiatus and returns 25 years later, is beyond me. Yet, this happens, and will continue to happen until you bring your brain onto your side, where cookies and hot chocolate are all the things you think about.

Now if a simple image can escalate into a monolithic figure eating all the other thoughts out of the recesses of your brain, imagine the effect of a short question, two words and one mark of punctuation.

BAM.

You have another 20 days added to your game. What do those words mean? Was that question directed to me? Was it directed to another girl? Why did he use that word and not a different one? Is there a covert message behind a covert question? And it goes on, and on.

Althusser speaks of the moment of recognition, when the individual recognizes that he has been interpolated into the ruling ideology, and despite that the individual remains situation in his position.  The situation is, according to Althusser, larger than the individual himself. In this cause, one may realize they are involved in games of the mind, whether imposed or from within, and the mind games are the larger situation. Regardless of the act of realization the individual cannot escape the fact that these games are taking place.

So the only thing left to do…play the damn game.

Play the game so well that you create games that trump the initial game and knock it out of the playing field. In fact, you have been playing bigger games without realizing it, you have initiated it and your foreplay, your unintentional warm up has pushed the ball into play. Once you realize the whistle has blown, the ball is in your court and you seize it. You do not wallow in despair, wishing you could push the games out of your mind, rather you play that game and you win. Win the game. Because winning the game is the only way you can realize the game and stop it from consuming your life.

Play the game.

Shame. Vulnerability. Guilt. Empathy. Compassion. Connections. Life.

So a few hours ago, I came across these ted-talks by a woman named Brene Brown. I have the habit of watching emotional videos, crying a lot and then not being able to fall asleep.

Tonight was one such night.
After shutting down my laptop, I realized I hadn't been able to shut down my brain.

I lay in bed, thinking, what am I ashamed of, and the answers came rushing to my mind. I started to think about how vulnerable I am, and how I feel about it. Tears rushing down my face, snot dripping out of my nose and antibiotics coursing through my blood, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I received a phone call from the guy I have been seeing and all these thoughts, along with some of my ever present thoughts on life, death, suicide and depression seemed to be circling my puny little head and the conversation started heating up. Now this is a boy who loves cars and women, he cannot even think of the idea of being vulnerable. Here I am, the most vulnerable creature I know, standing stark naked waiting for someone to join me and dance with me. Through the years I have found companions who seem to be the right fit, but later prove to be illusions, either they have deluded me or I have deluded myself. Because of these recurring failures in the sphere of relationships, not only romantic but simple friendships as well, I decided that it is better for me to be alone. Adding to this idea was my extreme sense of shame. I am ashamed of many things I have done and that have been done to me. There are certain times I can stop it from showing but slowly I start exposing myself, I open the book and usually when I do they shut it back up. No one wants to read such an unhappy story. People want rainbows, butterflies, hope and unicorns. I offer them dark and dingy alleyways with homeless men sleeping in their own pee.

I don't know the point of this post. I don't know the point of many posts that I write. But here it is.

I write this, knowing that I have to wake up in bout 4.5 hours, get ready for college and write a freaking assignment in class which I am sure to not do well on.

Life.

Mandatory reading.

Why is it that I am unable to express my feelings as clearly as other people seem to be able to? I find these posts all scattered around the internet and when I read them I always think "Wow, that is exactly what I feel like! Why can't I put words together to say the same thing?"
After which I fall into a swamp of unhappiness, self pity and disappointment.
When I do have these strokes of brilliance, or what I think are strokes of brilliance, they always seem pale in comparison. Like I am stealing sentences and using the synonyms option on word to change the words so it sounds different.

What did the person who formed the first sentence feel like?

I wish I could feel that way.

Some words.

So we are going to study the poetry of John Donne this semester. And I was just thinking the other day, because sometimes my brain takes long holidays and I stop thinking. And these words seemed to form some sentences. I don't know.

Drink the nectar.
Sweet, sour, tangy, spicy.
Allow each drop to slip down your throat.
Give your tongue the pleasure of enjoying each flavor.
Savor the richness.
Feel the tingly sensation on your lips.
An ambrosia that will never satisfy.
A liquid that will create a burning desire.
Drink the nectar.


It's been a long time. I should start writing again. 

Stories.

   We are all just stories. Stories that are happy, stories that are sad. Stories that are so dull you fall asleep, and stories that keep you at the edge of your seat. Stories that keep you up at night and stories that take you to your dreams.  Stories that make you love, and stories that make you hate. You learn from some stories and others are for pure comic relief. Some stories you can share, and others you keep to yourself. Some stories end before they begin, and some stories start and are fated to remain incomplete. With time your story grows, there are plot twists, you see your characters develop, some come and some go. You have the antagonist and protagonist of your story within yourself. You have the trusty side-kicks and the monsters underneath your bed. There are some stories you forget and some stories that are so vivid you never can get it out of your head, your imagination soars with the words that string the tale together. Other stories you recollect, bit by bit, each detail recovered with time. Then there are the stories you wish you could forget, those stories that haunt your every waking moment. The stories that scar you and that make you wish you had never been born. The potential a story has, a story that you know would be great but is cut short because some force out there just doesn't want you to have that happy ending. There are the stories from your past and the stories yet to be lived. Those are the ones you need to watch out for. You never know if you'll have a happily ever after, or something else. But right now you have a to be continued. You have the opportunity to change your story with the next installment. Look back at the old ones, but don't get caught up, look forward to the new ones but don't be too enchanted. Your story is happening right now. This is your story. Your story.