If you've been following my life closely, this past month has been really out of character for me. I have been playing the role of a reckless teenager as compared to an accountable adult. When you have been an adult for such a short period of time and are still trying to wrap your head around the concept of 'adult-ing' it makes even lesser sense, right?
Wrong.
I have been playing the adult for a long long time. I was always an empathetic child who knew what could possibly hurt someone else and would never do it - even if that meant suffering myself. I could take pain, grief, anything, everything, as long as I thought I was protecting my loved ones from these gruesome emotions. I would solve fights between friends, family and parents. I would study on my own when nobody was looking or checking. As a teenager I snapped and was incredibly difficult.
But then again came young adulthood and I learnt once more to swallow pain, misery and circumstances. I learnt to live absolutely alone in a country oceans away, without letting on how horrible it was for me. I kept my head down and worked hard till I just couldn't anymore. I kept at it for as long as it just didn't kill me. I thought, I can't be a quitter.
When the transition was made of me doing something I love, the adult-ing came easy. There was a zeal to prove myself. There was a yearning to grow, belong, love and be loved. I would never skip a class, would work way ahead of deadlines, basically I worked on every tiny flaw I had had as a school student in order to be the best possible Masters student.
And then you left.
Randomly and all at once.
I tried to be mature about it - I really did. For the first two months I cried and wailed - wrote to you - about you - travelled to you - in real and in my head - gave up - held on - anything to make sense of the fact that you're gone. You're not coming back. But the one sad thing is I couldn't hate you - not at all - so I ended up directing all that anger at myself. And then began my inner struggle, the longing to run away from every reminder of you - the need to run away from myself.
My house, my staircase, my mother's smile, my favourite hangouts, everything reeks of you. I can't even enter my room without saying your name under my breath. How do I run from someone who became a part of me?
But this is like a personal challenge and quest because amidst all this I promised myself that our memory deserves that I look at it only with happiness. So I promised myself, I will get over you with a smile on my face and a drink in my hand. I will search for ways to find laughter in a world that seems meaningless. I will try to move forward in a universe that I couldn't care less about now. I will prosper in a city that I always hated. I will do whatever it takes to be happy and selfish because you can't be the only thing that made me my happiest. No, I refuse to give you that sort of power over my entire life.
I will be happy. At least for this month, that brought me my life, I will be unapologizing-ly selfishly happy. And at the dawn of the next month, it will be time to be an adult again.
For now, just let me run wild for a while.
It's been a long time since I did.
Wrong.
I have been playing the adult for a long long time. I was always an empathetic child who knew what could possibly hurt someone else and would never do it - even if that meant suffering myself. I could take pain, grief, anything, everything, as long as I thought I was protecting my loved ones from these gruesome emotions. I would solve fights between friends, family and parents. I would study on my own when nobody was looking or checking. As a teenager I snapped and was incredibly difficult.
But then again came young adulthood and I learnt once more to swallow pain, misery and circumstances. I learnt to live absolutely alone in a country oceans away, without letting on how horrible it was for me. I kept my head down and worked hard till I just couldn't anymore. I kept at it for as long as it just didn't kill me. I thought, I can't be a quitter.
When the transition was made of me doing something I love, the adult-ing came easy. There was a zeal to prove myself. There was a yearning to grow, belong, love and be loved. I would never skip a class, would work way ahead of deadlines, basically I worked on every tiny flaw I had had as a school student in order to be the best possible Masters student.
And then you left.
Randomly and all at once.
I tried to be mature about it - I really did. For the first two months I cried and wailed - wrote to you - about you - travelled to you - in real and in my head - gave up - held on - anything to make sense of the fact that you're gone. You're not coming back. But the one sad thing is I couldn't hate you - not at all - so I ended up directing all that anger at myself. And then began my inner struggle, the longing to run away from every reminder of you - the need to run away from myself.
My house, my staircase, my mother's smile, my favourite hangouts, everything reeks of you. I can't even enter my room without saying your name under my breath. How do I run from someone who became a part of me?
But this is like a personal challenge and quest because amidst all this I promised myself that our memory deserves that I look at it only with happiness. So I promised myself, I will get over you with a smile on my face and a drink in my hand. I will search for ways to find laughter in a world that seems meaningless. I will try to move forward in a universe that I couldn't care less about now. I will prosper in a city that I always hated. I will do whatever it takes to be happy and selfish because you can't be the only thing that made me my happiest. No, I refuse to give you that sort of power over my entire life.
I will be happy. At least for this month, that brought me my life, I will be unapologizing-ly selfishly happy. And at the dawn of the next month, it will be time to be an adult again.
For now, just let me run wild for a while.
It's been a long time since I did.
