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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