The mirrored confusion.

At the risk of sounding like a complete narcissist I've become far too interested in my own appearance. Straightened hair everyday, eye makeup, and such. I was thinking yesterday about how that is all it ever really took to get people's glances at me. First I sort of liked it but then something struck me and dread filled up inside. Screw my mind and any talent, forget what I say, forget what ideas I have about the world, forget any accidental uniqueness but yeah 'hot' will suffice in their stead. I'm afraid I've begun living for the world, adopting their miserable ways of life, inside I burn because I was never meant for 'normal' 'customary' and 'this is how it's supposed to be.' I'm afraid I'm speeding down a road leading to conformity and looking in the mirror in the morning ain't feeling too bad. Gone are the times when I thought my brilliance was enough to excuse my hay-like hair, my fading complexion, my clear, clean eyes with nothing on them. Just more proof I've camouflaged into a world not built for people like me. I might look like a pretty orange peel on the outside but inside it's all rotty. I've been robbed of whatever the hell was used in place of a heart. Like the tiny, glowing sparks after a fire, remorse resides in the emptiness. It is calculated and understood and I've become far too good at hiding it, even from myself. The remains of my makeshift heart view the misery as something the old Bakhtawar knew jack about, the new one puts on a new pair of peep-toe heels and that pretty much takes care of it. I find myself wishing 2011 had never happened, but it did. And it ended too. Dark times lie ahead and sun-reflective cheek highlighter might just come in handy. Everything has an end, and there ain't no harm looking awesome when that happens.

The concept of time in soul years.

Sometimes we want something so badly we can't see it's not meant for us. That's one of the unconscious themes of my entire blog. That life is in constant motion, that there's no telling what great miracle or tragedy is just around the corner sneaky like a Clark Gable smile. That what you feel this one moment is inevitably lost when something more suiting walks by. All you have to do is turn and the entire dynamics have already changed, already been compromised, already been lost. Everything has a ready expiry date, which might not be death if you were thinking of getting comfortable. How true is the kansas song 'dust in the wind', we spend our whole lives clinging to all the wrong things, when you don't have to hold on, when you don't have to give life itself so much power over you. Maybe I say these things to make myself feel better, to remind myself of what I should feel rather than what I do. Maybe the other theme is the idea of eternity and that I will never change and that change is a relative concept. Why love others when you can live like an indifferent, loathing shrew? But hate stems from self-loathing and you can't spend something as transitory as existing with hate and indifference in your heart. My mother always says the only thing worse than intentional cruelty is indifference. And I can't become a shrew to protect myself, I'll just have to take my chances. We all need to be vulnerable every once in a while or else we'll miss out on people that we weren't looking for, except that we needed them more than we realized.

The land of dragons and fireflies.

I woke up this morning realizing I had too quickly and far too suddenly grown up. The age bit is hitting me just now and everything has the word 'future' in it. As clichéd as it is and we all know how hard I work to stay the hell away from that, it seems like yesterday I was imagining flying dragons on the wall of my bedroom, or like yesterday I was wondering how useful intentionally drowning....ookay it's not been all that great. But still, I feel like I'm running out of time in some cosmic way. Tick tock. How ironic to be running out of time for immortality. Where do I fit in all things greatness-related? In the past it seems things could exist for the simple act of existing, now it's all how they fit into life's equation. But why should any of it have to change, I know I die the day I conform, the day I accept, the day I be a victim of anything other than myself. Like Aragorn says in return of the king ' There is a day you will fall. But it is not this day.' or something or the other. I want the freedom of my own mind again. The freedom to be at odd intervals in a world where I'm the fairest in all the land and I have a tiny cottage by the lake (my current house is also by a lake just btw) and where people I hate can be beheaded in a violent fashion. Ah, the possibilities. Life might just start reeking of them and there's no reason to stop now.

I call bluff.

I've always been somewhat constant. Everything has always been measured in forever, as if everything goes on in some way. That I'm always supposed to be something, some kind of something till the end of it. So constant that I should already know how it ends.I should be sure of what I want and it should never be denied to me. The natural order of things as they call it. But I'm wrong. I always have been. I'm on the verge of realizing something except I'm not ready to allow myself that, because it might mean I'm on my own again.But I was always alone. Does the pain keep me away from a bigger emptiness? Is that why I cling to hurtful things now, why I've stopped craving freedom, why I just can't wake up even now without the thought of it? Like I told one of my friends once 'either someone will mean everything to me or nothing at all.' Did you know exactly what you felt, were you sure of it when you felt it? Did you wake up every morning knowing with absolute irrefutable certainty that this is what will finish you off, what had a right, what was meant for it? I'm calling your bluff. You can't possibly be me, even I can't be me. Somewhere less than human and yet crippled in a way no human can know. Worse part is, it's a hell of a decision to make.

Oh no.

I have a sneaky feeling that my blog posts are infinitely less awesome than before. It's an irrefutable sign from the universe that I must end it all in some poetic manner preferably Greek tragedy-like. I have now nothing to offer my inflated ego.

The spill addict.

It's addictive spilling things when you're faced with people who understand, who know you and who don't judge. It's okay to need people every once in a while, it's okay to need help but if you aren't careful you might become a spilling addict or an advice junkie. But even though I sometimes feel better, something deep inside is not quite right. I was made to...as they say, wander the path alone perhaps. I have been sharing stuff for a while with people I don't doubt like the rest of everyone else, sharing things that eat me up inside but it's too simple. Too simple to believe I can just be set free as if nothing had ever happened. I'm not sure I deserve it. It's awful thinking you don't deserve pain and yet knowing it's the only thing that fits. Maybe I'm wrong. Who knows. The one month I was told I should wait and analyse is drawing to a close. Yes someone I trust recently told me the human mind flushes everything out in forty days or less. But that's where they have it wrong, they mean the 'human' mind? yup....thanks a lot.

Down that road forever.

Lately it's been a very difficult job being me. Sure, being me wasn't a picnic before but people like me grow up in strange ways. We evolve and without knowing, all that we are is exemplified. I've been at my school for about twelve years or more I should imagine, and now that it draws to an end and graduation sneaks near I find myself repeatedly playing all the past years in my head. I'm not sure I'm ready for the world outside, for new people though I've despised most of the ones I grew up with in some way or the other. I'm probably rambling. My track record would show I have something of use to say every time but not this time. I feel so many things. Like I've jumped many many years. Things were so simple last year. I knew exactly who I was and what I could do. I never had to doubt my judgement in any thing that mattered. It was all plain black and white to me. There were never any minds to pick apart, no one was ever important enough to go through the trouble for, anyway. I don't wish that I could go back but right now is not a very good place. It's not all my fault you know. It's not that I didn't try. I tried everything that my nature would allow. Now I'm sort of a shell that's balancing itself on a cliff, just one turn of the wind and there it goes..far into oblivion. Far beyond help and pity. I'm a shell because I've smothered all I believed was essential to my existence. Pride, ego, the never ending need to own things and people, anything worth having. When you have to kill off those things to survive, you become quiet. You don't fight for anything, you just watch it walk by, with a hurt in your being so strong, no words should be able to describe it and no words ever will. I don't even cry any more. In my soul I keep putting shovels and shovels of sand over what hurts me because there is nothing I can do. I don't feel like I've won. Maybe it's finally happened. Maybe I am gone for good. I was telling a close friend how superior it made me, having finally overcome my ego. That sentence is a miserable oxymoron and I knew it. This is what the world did to me. I wish something would put a stopper to it. I've done my time. But I'm still not free.

The wrong sort.

I don't know what needs to be overcome. I don't know what has to be done. All I know is that I suffer from holes in the web of my existence so inconceivable that all my life has slipped through. My ego, my measly heart is so much more important than other people, isn't it? More important than their friendships, than what they have done and taken for me. It's always been all or nothing. I've always operated in extremes and that created a false sense of idealism than even I can't live up to and no one should have to. No one should have to live according to my ideals. The balance needs to be found. Or else I stand here, ready to lose everything I love, simply because it won't mould itself into what I want. Where the hell do they create people like me and for what end game? I'm obsolete. And in pain that I can't recall ever having been inflicted before. I'm in the business of survival, but self-preservation is becoming very very costly. 

And then there was light.

This week I realized two very important things. Firstly that I'd thought I was guilty and overall something terrible except I have only recently been woken to the fact of how truly terrible human beings can be. So I don't really think I'm so bad anymore. Second, no matter what happens there is always something redeemable to be found. There are still so many beautiful people in the world that have more goodness in them than I ever thought possible, so yes I might never entirely lose my way. Take my best friend Tanya Husain for example.She's the only person who I would hold on to after everything is lost. I never frighten her, she never needs explanations, she's like an island that I can anchor to when I'm slipping and she is constant, always there...smiling that twisted smile in the distance. Kinda like what Lexi is to Stefan in the vampire diaries. I didn't really want a place in this world, but now I will live like nothing has ever lived before. There is a solid weight of rock underneath all my pain, underneath the crumbling surface and I will have to choose to see it amidst all this darkness. And for my sake I will have to remember who I am. And I will. I will very much. :)