18-27 - Part 2

There happened two good things in 2006 when I was 22. One, I found a proper job, a structured framework, an organization, sense of competition revoked, against my colleagues. This job returned a bit of my self-esteem. This also made me socialize though only a little bit and also made me feel competitive and needy to perform. I was the best performer as a trainee for two months as well as an employee once I hit the floor actually, for another two months. In these four months, with unrestricted internet access, I re-discovered my love for reading.

The first book I read then was- Gone with the wind in a total of 8 hours, skipping my breaks, requesting extra shift from my manager and what not. Then I read Jane Eyre and other books by the Bronte sisters. And by the time I was four month old in an organization, working on a salary of 10 K bucks and the youngest employee and also one of the best performers across the organization, I realized, this wasn’t where I belonged to.

I submitted my resignation which wasn't accepted. I waited two days, let my salary be credited, swiped my account clear and left the job, gone! Vanished, declared absconding (thankfully this doesn't cause ground for legal action in India). I came back home, got enrolled in an off-campus graduate program in humanities and against all odds and ends and voices of sanity chose philosophy, English literature and political science(for the lack of a better available third optional)

In the first year of my graduation I scored 75 percent marks in philosophy (something that had become for me a rare commodity). There were extra papers in environmental science, computers, compulsory English. I fared well in all of them. I managed a decent 60 something in English, 50 or something in political studies.

The second year was better, I went to Delhi again to work in a reputed MNC this time to earn enormous amounts as salary but four months later the job started taking heavy toll on me. What with 12 hours of days shift and 14 hours of night. No time to study, no leaves in the peripheral vision for examination. I quit, came back, studied for second year exams, and got 79 percent in Phil. and some average 50 percent something in English and Pol. Studies.

In the third and the final year, I joined a private Engineering college in my own town as a faculty for spoken English. The salary was a mere four thousand, but I was once again in my comfort zone. I was teaching again, content, happy, very much at peace with myself, at home within the campus and with the rest of the staff. I was the only female out there amidst all boys (students) and men (teachers). But six months later, we shifted our home to a place farther off. The change was welcome; I now had a room for myself. My personal space was better than earlier. I didn’t have to share a room with my younger brothers. But, I had to quit my job because my travel time increased to double and so did the fare.

It was also around this time, that I finally ended up in a long distance relationship with a Dominant Man in USA. And by the time the term ended, I was with an average of 83 in philosophy, and decent 60 something crossed in the other two subjects. I was happy, successful in terms of my degree and was a student of a very reputed institute, preparing for an MBA entrance exam, when I fell into my annual depression phase.

Once into it, I sat completely home locked, not wanting to go out anywhere, not wanting to do anything, not wanting to meet anyone. And then one fine day, I got a call from the institute and I was offered a trainer’s post there for communicative and spoken English. Once again, I was in my comfort zone. And then I was given the responsibility to teach the language section for the same exam that I was writing.

I was eventually given classes with the same batch as that of my fellow students and surprisingly they co-operated too well with me and it went fine. I was enrolled in an M.A. program and an executive MBA simultaneously. Eventually I discovered that I am not a corporate person and that it is only teaching that I have truly loved, after I gave up on trying being a doctor. So, I gave up on the MBA as well as the job and kept only to the MA degree. But two months before the exams I got cold feet and gave up on that too. So, one full year dropped again. I then finally stayed at home for another 8 months, working for small amounts, tit-bits, occasional classes, not studying, just thinking, making futile plans and doing nothing before I found some very supportive friends emotionally and morally and finally my current job.

It was also in these last four and a half years that I discovered lifestyle, could place my thoughts, orientations in place, get a perspective that whatever need for control I had in my routine life was not something weird but had a name for itself. It was in the last year that I also found a real group of people in India who follow different sorts of unconventional lifestyles and do not judge people. It was the past one year when I explored the possibilities of embracing my true nature as a person. It was however, around a month ago that I also found my mentor after a long series of faltering, failings, psycho-somatic illnesses, fractures and what not.

I know I have a whole life ahead of me. I also know I will fall, make mistakes, get hurt, but I also know I will survive, especially now that I have a strong support system.

© anu (Exploring Myself)

18-27 - Part 1

So, I was already 18, when I left school, nothing unusual there though. Except for the fact that my loner nature had already been established. I had already been subconsciously declared as a nerd, loner, multi-faceted and multi-talented individual with a sort of solitude and loneliness prominently visible. It was also, assumed that I was at peace with my being alone. There were germs of poetry. Literature and yet a desire to be a doctor and study medicine and psychiatry (eventually). But with failures creeping in on facts like having to quit math, lack of fee to pay for costly coaching classes.

I dropped four years to prepare for my pre medical entrance exam. I joined a graduate program once in the mean while, a B.Sc. in Biology. But gave it up. It wasn’t my place. I liked going to college, using library but I hated the batch mates, It was during these four years that my best friend of 7 years ditched me, by saying to her parents that I was the one who was being stalked by some guys (who actually were stalking me). These four years made me realize that honesty is the best policy, since my parents would know everything about me, my activities, my whereabouts.

It was the beginning of these four years that my life went through fire and flames and came out as something entirely different. I was re-diagnosed thrice with my depression and ALWAYS, I refused to take medication. It was the beginning of these four years that I was exposed to yahoo (by my younger brother) and the later part of these years that I bought my first mobile phone. But there’s something much more important (wrong usage I know), that I discovered.

It was - I started teaching. I taught students who were my immediate juniors. I taught senior school physics, chemistry, biology, because I wanted to learn. I knew I’d never be able to afford money enough to go and prepare for entrances outside my town. My town didn’t have good institutes till then. I had no friends, most of those who were with me got into engineering (the ratio of engg seats to medical being something like 12000 to 600 that time if I remember correctly). I didn’t have friends to discuss study with. I didn’t know which books to read, what depth to probe into and I took up teaching as an obvious and a clear solution to problems like these.

I remember the students’ parents would ask me – you’re so young. And I’d politely reply – I know, but what matters is my command on the subject. I was amazing with theory, especially physics, which I knew that I could never ever study again because I did not study Math in grade 12. My students would score well, even clear competitive exams, while I would year after year not succeed. The best I’d do was to fall short by a single mark, or to get a payment seat, or to be able to join something like a self-sponsored dentistry.

It was these four years however, when one of my teachers tried to seduce me, another wanted to lay me around and 2 batchmates disgusted me to no end, with their grossly materialistic and carnal proposals without even a twinge of feeling (Back then, I was EXCESSIVELY conventional, VERY stubborn and greatly judgmental). It was within these four years that I found the first love of my life (who later dumped me because he realized I’m not a would-be doctor anymore and that I do not look as beautiful as in the pics. And this after telling his whole family that he wanted to marry me. Funny, ain’t it? :)

But on the other hand, in 2005, amidst all this drama and lackluster life, I found a friend in a biology chat room in yahoo then. This was one of the first people who molded my life. Extremely intelligent, highly accomplished, pure in spirit and amazingly understanding, this Man (7 years elder to me?) brought me to an understanding of myself. He questioned me, probed me, made me think, answer his questions. He helped me explore much of the unexplored me. He helped me deal with what was negative, to encourage in myself what was positive. We met once and then lost contact. Ani, I still miss you :)

It was in these four years (towards the end) that I managed to save money, shift to Delhi for coaching and met my best friend till date, my best supporter of last 5 years and my current employer. We had a common friend introduce me. So, the last 6 months of my last drop, this friend introduced me to ISKCON, where I could find exactly the same reasoning as the one I had, exactly similar things as subjects of discussion like they were at Home. ISKCON was a home away from home.

I wrote my final attempt, did not succeed, took up a call centre job and decided I didn’t want to study further. This is when I turned 22, with a heart break, a broken friendship, a total of 2 seducing attempts, 2 disgusting offers, a long history of failures already, future bleak. I guess, I cannot cover this duration all in one go, so I will write a sequel to this section.

Till then,

© anu (Exploring Myself)

Back to Positive again

So, after I've vented off all my steam, my suppressed anger, my frustration at being insulted when I made all sincere effort to respect others, I'm much light. I needed to release myself from the emotional stress I create for myself. It's high time that I come to terms with my anger and accept that being angry is as natural an emotion as is being loving. It's time, I stop letting people treat me like a punch bag, whether in a good way or a bad one.

So, let me try and think of some positive things to happen, possibly or definitely.

• My work is going OK.
• My salary was in my account in time, decent amount.
• My studies will begin soon by the end of December fully.
• My manager / best friend promises that He will support me in every manner till exams, if I can really trust him and then will take me off to Singapore in April, once I'm done with exams, to be able to earn loads and of course I can come back again for M.A. Final exams and preparation. I can even get a PR there, if I can stick around. Two years of work there, the work profile on my resume, the options of career, studies, family finances everything is going to fall in place though this DOES mean that I will for now have to give up on JNU/IIM.
• I have started jewelery making class and am doing well at it. As usual, a student that makes her teacher smile :)

Now, let me try and list down a few very important priorities:

• Working sincerely
• Supporting my Mentor in His guidance of me, with full devotion and commitment, no matter how many things/people/events distract me, no matter how many times, I might fail.
• Keeping up with my art work
• Studying once work is low.
• Applying for a passport.
• Save money.
• Updating the list as and when explored.

That's all I guess for now.

Anu

My Damn Problem

I wanted to write this somewhere else, but then decided otherwise. Hurting someone is just not my type. At least not hurting them openly. But then I need my space to vent too. So, using this as that. I know this mail will end up in a few inboxes and to you, I have just one thing to say - Those who trust me, will understand and if they don't, they don't really really matter. Fortunately for me, you all do matter :)

************

To all those, who think they are respecting me by trying to help me, no you're not. Because first off, you don't even understand a bit of who I am, the way I think, the way I feel and you can never do that, because you will always see it in the usual context. I'm not special, but definitely not the usual stuff and I am proud of it.

Secondly, do not mistake my courtesy and politeness for my weakness or strength. Because it's none. It simply is that - nonchalant courtesy and politeness.

Third and the most important thing, if I distance myself from you because **YOU** asked me to, do not tell me that you respect my effort, because THAT (telling me about it) is disrespect to my efforts/effortless goodbyes. Do I sound clear? I seriously hope I do. If you want your space, respect mine It's as simple as that.

I do NOT confuse respect, politeness and courtesy. The moment you disrespect me or my efforts and no that doesn't mean asking me to fuck off or verbal assault or character assassination or whatever, but your gesture; you lose your respect. The more you do it, the more esteem you lose. We can coexist without any sort of need to indulge in each other's lives.

If I do not message you, it simply means that for me, you do not really exist or that your existence is of no interest to me. I am excessively communicative and open, so if I value your friendship or want it or desire it, I will state that upfront. Similarly if I desire distance, I will clearly indicate that as well. Also, if I need your help dealing with something, I will make sure that I tell you. If I do not, please do not presume.

I know I take time to get over things. I usually take a lot of time to move on. I open up completely when I do and that DOES make me vulnerable. Also, I find it very tough to move on, unless people leave me. This is something like, if a fucking loser says - I'm Your Dom and you cannot move on, no matter what -(even subconsciously, if not in words), I just cannot move on. However, Once I do, I do.

But please, and I mean this please, do not test my patience or self-control. Not even if you're the most valued person in my life, because even if you are, I will not say it once it's been rejected. It's your loss, deal with it.

You have all right to be inconsiderate, mean or rude to me. I do not do that, because it's not my nature. However, please do NOT presume that I cannot be a bitch. I just don't want to be, because I don't need to be.

This is to no one in particular, so don't bother asking. This is to all those endless number of people out there, who think their pity, support, help, kindness is what I need, once they've insulted and offended my feelings (specially when they treat it like something grossly physical and understand truly nothing about it because it has not tangibly materialized).

Honestly,

I wish You really well in all your endeavors. Really really well. I have absolutely NO malice in my heart for anyone. But, please do not disturb my personal space.

I hope you'll *respect* that. Truly.

**************************************

And to all those truly valued and respected people, I might be a bitch sometimes, but trust me, I never want to hurt you ever, even if that means keeping myself from falling to pieces, or not being angry at people who violate my privacy.

Thanks for being around.

Creativity on multiple fronts?

So, here's what I recently made. Why? I do not know. I have this stupid character trait of channelizing my energy away from the negativity. Specially when the negativity tends to seep in from every nook and corner of my life. Through my eyes, when I see things and people;through my ears, when I hear them; through my nose, when I smell the fragrances that take me to nostalgia; through the touches, both craved for, and shirked away from; through the tastes of things that were pleasant in past and unpleasant later. My own words taste bitter on my tongue, my heart years for solace and my eyes are sore from crying.

What do I do at such times? Usually I wallow, I weep, cry, scream silently in agony, ending up hurting myself. This time, I decided to be different. I decided to take up a new hobby, add some sense of self worth to myself and my life. And the pictures are just the first day/first sample/first gift to one of my beloved friends, whom I gifted another set exactly identical to this one :)

Some people think, I'm unstable, unreliable, gullible, multi-talented but vastly distracted. I do not know if you believe in Horoscopes and astrology, but for those who do, my start-chart makes me such. I am not using this as an excuse. I DO try hard to focus, I really do. But, I usually function best when I multi-task. Is being myself (even if it means being weak, gullible, distracted, but my own self nonetheless), so so bad?

I do not know, but for now I bask in the glory of everything I do :) even if it's about making pearl strings.

© anu (Exploring Myself)

9-18

Before I continue from 9-18, I guess, there’s something more from the zero-nine phase that comes to my mind.

I am told I was a violent kid with loads of anger. I would throw objects, I would be nasty, throw tantrums, but there was one thing I NEVER did – I never tore books. They were unconsciously sacred to me.

It was around 9 and a half years of my age, when I had my ma give birth to my youngest brother. Dad had to shift his focus from me to the one younger to me, what with his bad health, his, the new baby in the family, increasing financial expenses, shortage of space. We have practically spent some 15 years of our life in a single room and another ten in the main room and another rented in some or the other nearby location. Things started changing. I was happy and yet more and more fierce. My studies shot up in terms of scores and performance. Perhaps it was the competitive threat I subconsciously felt from the younger brother, or maybe it was the need for all that attention I missed from parents which was now channelized to the tuitions that dad would give and my youngest brother.

We were living with our aunt and uncle who stayed close by at that juncture in time. So, mostly our food would be cooked together and mom and aunt would take care of the baby, while dad would spend time with both of us. But I do remember that I was very possessive of my baby bro (I still am in some ways) and had fought the whole family once when it came to just a superficial talk of my uncle and aunt(who do not have any children, biological or adopted) adopting the child. I fought tooth and nail, hurt my father physically and made Him write on a paper with a one rupee stamp sticking to it that He would never give away any of his kids.

A childish tantrum though it may seem, the fact displays that I was never an easy to give away kid. I was always fiercely possessive. My younger brother and I had loads of issues between us. We would fight; he would give in or else fight back depending on his mood and the thing/object/privilege in question.

But there was this so prominent trait – We would never let an outsider speak in between. NEVER!!! We would always end up giving that same thing to the other which we’d been nastily fighting about. We’d always hug and apply ointment on the bite marks we’d caused.

But two years after this happened, I heard one of my classmates reciting a poem she’d composed herself and I was suddenly – competitive. I was in grade 6, around 12 and a half, suddenly realizing that if ‘this’ was what writing poetry was about, I could do it so much more better and I started writing. I continued wonderful marks, amazing poems (according to the age I was), played harmonium wonderfully well, leading all choirs in school, sang beautifully at devotional gatherings of up to 1000 people, was a good speaker-debater, orator, interested in art, literature, language, music, academics. Everything was perfect. Except a weird sort of loneliness that was slowly engulfing all of me.

I gradually started drifting away from the world around me, more into my own little corner. I wouldn’t go with other girls in lunch – time, I wouldn’t talk to many people, I anyways didn’t have a huge peer group I had just 3 friends from all grade 7 to grade 10. I would take additional responsibilities in school and yet try to be invisible. All I would care about was, what does my teacher think of me? What do I do? How do I perform? And, whether I am acceptable or not. Without anyone actually telling me that they had expectations from me, I started striving to fulfill expectations I thought they had (perhaps because when I’d be around them they’d talk of me in high terms treating as if I didn’t exist there, not realizing that there was vanity gradually creeping in which I would cover with my modesty). It wasn’t exactly vanity, nor was it purely modesty. It was a bizarre concoction of - being praised, wanting to defend that position, pride creeping in and a full realization to keep that pride toned down, because I knew pride is not a good thing.

And, I feel I missed the true carefree childhood. By an age of 14, my personality started showing deeply disturbing traits (which others either did not notice or else didn’t care to notice). I started showing perfect loner traits. I stopped talking to family about anything I felt/dealt-with in school. I would still talk about events, but never feelings. I would talk about successes, but never about failures. I was on surface same, but deep down more shelled up more withdrawn. I had a world of my own in which I had imaginary elder siblings who’d keep my training in regime, be firm with me, non-patronizing and yet caring and loving. In my imaginary world, I had no parents, my teachers and siblings were same and the education I received was holistic, though some of it I did not like. At the same time what had also changed was my biological development. With hormones in play, physiology changing, my emotions started becoming very pessimistic. My tendency to feel pain and think it was there, only because I deserved it, started growing.

Finally, it started reflecting as a psychosomatic problem in the form of dermatological issues. I started visiting a dermatologist. He treated me for two years, the medicines and steroids in turn causing other side effects, before he finally asked me to visit a psychiatrist. I denied and said that I needed a psychologist. He gave me a counseling session. However, results kept going down as compared to what they always had been, my irritability about my dad teaching my batch mates as a tutor and my feelings of comparison and loneliness kept on constantly increasing. A series of failures started and no one could understand why? Not even myself. I would blame parents, brothers, feel cheated, deprived of basic things like personal space, friendships. The single friend I made in standard 7 did stay my friend thus far.

In grade 11, I opted science with biology and maths as optional subjects only to discover that EVERY student in my class was going to extra tuition other than me. I constantly kept on failing in one or the other term exams and eventually I gave up Mathematics. I decided that I would never want to be an engg so I did not need math and I knew enough math to deal with physics and chemistry. I did not realize that I was closing my options to study physics too.

It was towards the end of the 11^th grade and in the second half of my 17^th year that I went to a psychiatrist for a project I did in biology and he diagnosed me. Asked me to conduct a meeting with my mother and explained to her that I was suffering from clinical depression, recommended me medication. However at that time, my relationship with my parents was perhaps as strained as it ever could be and it actually continued till an age of 22. My irritability increasing, my violence revealing on objects (thank God, I’ve never really hurt an individual except with words, and yes, I am not proud but I know I can really hurt bad :( ) But so far till 18, which was till I passed grade 12, these circumstances prevailed. Dwindling between successes in my performance in writing, literature and stage, grades dwindled from above average to good. And I passed school, left it with a few awards added to my already huge collection.

The remaining I guess, shall be in the next installment.

Till then,

© anu (Exploring Myself)

My years 0-9

I do not remember much of my very initial years. I do remember things from an age of 2.5/3 years though, I guess. My parents do tell me that I was a hyperactive child, multi-faceted, inquisitive, curious, talkative and impressively intelligent when I was a kid. When I was born, I had something that worried them. They took me to the doctors and different doctors way back then (around 84-87) told them that it could / might lead to a lot of medical complications, like cerebral membranes’ inflammation and other things like a swollen head.

I was very young when I started talking and my dad says I had the kind of precise grasp over pronunciation which is rare to find at that age. Father also tells me, that I would speak and recite tough to pronounce Sanskrit texts and verses behind Him when he would sit and do his rituals and worship every day. He tells me, I would imitate not just the words but also the tone and the voice modulation. I was 2.5 years old when someone recommended that dad should make me learn music.

Dad took the advice seriously because of two reasons he says: 1. He was obsessed with the possibilities of me being unwell on the basis of the medical problem and hence wanted to provide me the maximum time and effort and best things in life that he could. 2. He noticed that I was sharp, intelligent and keen. So, He finally devoted himself to my well being, growth and development.

I do not remember my dad ever spanking, slapping, chastising me. He’s perhaps the kindest and yet the most upright father there could be. He taught me throughout the importance of a decent touch and the importance of being vocal, communicative. He taught me to embrace who I was. He taught me strength was a good thing, but it had to be controlled. He also taught me that my strength came not from denying who I was, but from embracing.

I remember Him telling me that being a woman was not about being week. It had nothing to do with gender. Just like He could be all maternal while still being a male and my mom could be all robust, active and doing all the tasks that needed to be done, in spite of the fact that dad was the decision making authority.

I have faint memories of my daily routine like dad waking us early morning, massaging our limbs and back with oil and bathing us and getting us ready while mom would finish the kitchen work. Dad teaching us or helping us memorize some more Sanskrit texts, grammar, math, science concepts and/or prayers, poems.

We would then be sent to school, initially by dad on his cycle, then in the school bus by mom at times and at later times by the auto rickshaw that would pick us from home and drop us back after school. Back then, dad was posted locally, would be back by then (when he was on an early shift in school, he was just a teacher then, not a head ), so we’d change, eat, take an afternoon nap, wake up, do the homework, usually I’d manage myself. Then he’d take me to a music teacher, come back, teach me language, grammar, math, read stories with me, talk about the people in the stories, the values, the morals, the ethics everything.

This routine as I remember was my routine till I was 10 years old. I remember, my younger brother was born when I was around two and a half years old. My grandmother helped me change at home and when I asked about ma (I call my mother ma, though we called her mummy when we were young and my father papa), I was told she’s gone to hospital to bring my brother and would be back in a few hours. When I got up from the afternoon nap, my mom hadn’t yet come back and I started crying. I clearly remember my eldest uncle giving me a chocolate and talking to me about school and so many other things to distract me. We lived in a joint family then. My grandparents would spend some time at the pilgrim spots nearby and some home. My uncles (2 of the three) and aunt (1 of the two I had) used to stay in the same house.

If I started rambling, I could go on and on and on about my childhood, there’s just so much of it. But when my mom finally came home, she had a beautiful baby with her – my brother. I do not really remember how we were raised in His first few years, those memories are fuzzy in fact blank and I’m surprised why. I do remember that he started talking early too and was equally sharp. And I remember that whenever I’d take ages to drink milk, he’d say jiji (sister), hurry up, drink it fast!!! (in his stuttering, baby voice) and I’d be irritated like hell. He used to suckle his thumb, would dress just like me, but I’d sometimes bully him. We fought a lot, but we’d always share all the things. In fact my parents always brought two of everything they brought.

He started going to school and music class when he was 2.5/3 too, and at a young age he was diagnosed with hypermyopia. It was then I was diagnosed with the same too. We both looked very similar way back then and people often mistook us for twins, with similar clothes, similar heights, chubby round, beautiful faces and thick glasses :)

I remember I gave my first public speech addressing an audience of 500 at 3.5 again I was then covered in almost all local and a few national dailies. Sometimes big front pages, sometimes small columns. I wrote my first poem about my brother’s habit of suckling his thumb at 6, which my dad kept as a precious memory and then it got lost some years ago :)

The speeches, stage and music never stopped, nor did the reading. after those smaller versions of stories from scriptures, next came lives of religious devotees, then best classics of world translated to Hindi and abridged versions. Followed in translated Bengali literature, Gnanapitha award winning novels from Hindi and other regional languages. Debates, speeches and everything else would always be in HIndi, education, study and school in English. Mom working on spellings, math problems, practice papers as dad would guide her to make us do them :) We siblings fighting, pulling hair, biting, digging nails and then going out for sports on sundays, to the nearby garden, swings.

However, there’s one thing I prominently remember now. I had a doll, which often would be my mother and take me to an imaginary doctor. Sometimes, it was the daughter and I would take her to the doctor. The doctor would always be me. And I would talk myself to sleep. My brother and I would play a household and I’d ask Him to dictate dinner menus and I’d ask Him to do the masculine work and let me do the feminine tasks :)

I don’t remember having any friends. I was in a missionary girls’ school and I remember having loads of jealous girls and classmates who’d wonder why my parents, teachers, senior girls and even their parents lavished so much attention, awe and respect towards me. They were always willing to chuck me out of play groups, even when I tried to join in and after I got specs, it got all the more tough. I remember that I had lost control on urination once when I was 9.5 if I remember correctly, though there was a small course of medicine my parents got me and things were back to normal. But that might have been for other reasons now I think of it. But that’s another story. So, remaining for the next installment :)

© anu (Exploring Myself)

Up and about and running

This post is only to let everyone know that inspite of everything else, I'm neither dumb, not weak. I have not and will not do anything stupid and you can all (if you are) stop fretting. However, those on the automatic mailer-list of this blog, please do not take it personally, if my posts stop coming to Your in-boxes. For I will be changing a few settings from here.

Regards and well wishes to everyone.

A

I really wish I could Die

You!!! Yes, You! The woman in the mirror? Who are you?

Definitely not me. I was vibrant, strong, compassionate, kind and forgiving. You are listless, weak, either passionate or cold, unkind and revengeful. You are not me. Because of You I died, what right do You have to survive?

I am someone who's naive enough to think that I can be a pillar of strength to any one. I am a pest. I survive on others' love. I think I'm so great that I can love them? I can't even forgive people when they've NOT done anything wrong. And I can't forget it when they HAVE done something wrong.

I am obsessed, unruly, unworthy, a slut to the core of my mean and nasty heart. I care for nothing nor do I want to. I have no reason to survive.

But you forget that You're loved by those naive people who think you can love. You are liked by those who are naive enough to think of you as innocent as dove.

You are hollow, or looks, nor money. No position, no status, forget the maturity and the love you profess. You are nothing, just a fleck of dust, unworthy, set up for repeated failure and no success.

Go take a fuck and make it fly, this is what they to the likes of you. You think your poisoned tears are as pure as morning dew. Whom do you think you're kidding, you prude you bitch you naive woman. All you want is attention and you understand nothing of being Human.

But I wish I was back to the kid I was, to be able to think in poetry again. Not the tidbits that I write now, but the old when I was sane. All I want is just a single touch of love and desire in my life. But I hate the pity that I get, I hate the respect, I feel stabbing myself with a knife.

I want to give up or give in at least one. I want to talk and yet to push away everyone. I hope I either recover, or else this misery may end my life and may I never suffer.

Friends whom I love, foes whom I like, people whom I wish to do thinks for and serve. I do not wish to suffer You every moment, because I'm mean enough to want returns.

I am rambling, I know, I know not how to deal. I am numb at the time, when emotions I feel. I really wish I could die.

Lord,
Help me accept that it's my shortcoming,
to misunderstand people's intentions when earnest.
Lord, make me accept that all they've been,
in their dealings with me is fair and honest.

Lord, help me feel through the pain I get,
the strength to serve all around me.
Just numb me a tiny wee bit so that,
the bonds do not bound me.

And if Thee would do nothing O Lord,
give me the strength to face this.
And if not even that, why not take my life,
with your hands since I cannot take this.

Give me courage to die,
either once and for all,
or inch by inch every day.
Lord, help me bear the pain that hurts,
or give me an escape-way.

I really wish I could die, O Lord.
This I ask in Your name.

Amen!!!