The Imperfect Reality

Anybody who regularly follows my blog must know that I am a complete emotional fuck up. I never tried to hide it. I blabber about my fucked up feelings quite openly here. Some might judge me for that, think I am stupid. I don’t care. It is my blog and I can talk about whatever I wish to. In my personal circle I’m (in)famous for being open and honest. I always speak my mind and most people are quite scared of me for that. Well, I really am oblivious to the trick of sugar-coating the truth. Truth hurts, but it actually helps in healing faster in the long run. Truth gives closure. And of all people, I know how vital it is to get a closure at times. All this years I have been seeking that one closure; but so far, I have failed miserably.

Personally I love reading screwed up relationship posts. It gives me a false sense of comfort and consolation. That I am not the only miserable loser out there. In fact, there are many, many such people all around the world and some of them even have the exact same story to tell. It is almost uncanny to find that the world is so full of similar type of assholes. It is no wonder that, with my luck, I happened to bump into one of them. I follow a travel blog whose author is a thirty something British-Canadian lady who openly talks about how she has been ‘single as fuck’ (it’s her own words) since she got dumped by some ‘huge asshole’ (again, I’m just quoting her) a few years ago. And how much she enjoys living and travelling alone and how much her independence means to her. I have got huge admiration for people of western culture for being less hypocritical about love life. In India, everyone is officially a virgin until they get married. And a responsible, honest monogamist till death do us part. No one has the balls to admit the true story behind the fake set-up. No one will show you the holes beneath the expensive carpet. I was feeling nauseous while reading the mushy, sappy Valentine ’s Day special posts on a few incredibly dumb fashion blogs. Resentful? Oh no. Just allergic to hypocrisy and fakeness. Imperfection always seems more real to me.

Anyway. I am not among those people who are too fond of displaying a carefully curated version of their life on virtual world. My life is not perfect. Oh rather quite far from it. Perhaps by a few light years. I suffer from terrible mood swing. (Have a quick look through my posts) I suffer from chronic depression. Insomnia. My emotions are so volatile that they might give the most inflammable solution a run for its money. Sometimes I think I have persecution mania. I feel everyone around me is conspiring against me and I get this irresistible urge to hurt them. But what happens in most cases is that people drive me crazy with their stupid behaviour despite repeated warnings and I often find myself apologising for others’ mistakes.

Loneliness gives superb clarity of mind. And what I have realised so far is that experience matters a great deal no matter how bitter or painful it is. Believe me; loving someone worthless from a certain distance is actually much better than being in a relationship with that piece of shit. I am not happy; but I am definitely happier than what I would be if I chose to stay in a toxic relationship that never helped me to grow into a better person. And let’s not forget about the fact that had it not been for my piece of shit ex, I would not have gotten the motivation to start writing. Most of my posts are rage-driven and anger-inspired. I love him alright; but I would crush his balls if I got a chance. Anger or hatred is very powerful feeling. They are like nuclear power. Cataclysmic, but could be life altering if channelised into the right direction.

These days I meet and reject all kinds of wrong people left, right and centre. As much as emotionally draining and tiresome it may sound, it has helped me think more clearly. At least, now I know what I definitely don’t want in my life. There are days when I feel truly helpless and tired of the sheer stupidity of people that I have to put up with. But I no longer wait for the ‘perfect man’ to appear out of nowhere and rescue me, the perpetual damsel in distress. Trust me, I can help myself. I do not need anyone to complete me in any manner. I am rather trying hard to grow those qualities in myself that I have been seeking in my right man all this time. I am not there yet. But I am definitely on my way.

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