After such a long break, I suppose I would have to reintroduce myself. I am Shreya, and I’m 18 now (really don’t see a difference). Welcome (back) to my blog.
I disappeared lately. No posts, no long monologues of my true emotions. Many reasons why but they’re all excuses. I figured that I only turn to this platform in times of great confusion and grief. I’m not exactly sure if that’s a good thing yet, but we’ll figure it sometime. That would then beg the question: why am I suddenly writing again? I needed an escape. Something tangible. Something by me for me. Something I could look back on. A reservoir of mere epiphanies to nights of just compounded thoughts – the ride of my imagination on a high.
I feel cornered by my inability and fears – a day doesn’t pass by without imagining varying ends and their consequences. The one thing that I am assured of is the fact that I won’t do it. More like, I wouldn’t be able to do it. As a young child, I have been scared of everything. Despite acting like a rebel wannabe, truth be told I am scared of going beyond the boundaries. Fear of something unexpected happening, having to deal with negative consequences, thinking of elaborate excuses doesn’t seem like my forte.
Speaking of which, past few days, I just really realized how much stuff I’ve never done – either because I follow my parents’ ideals (I think a better way to put it is my desperate attempts to achieve their expectations) or I just never saw the need to. Call me inexperienced, I never tried a long list of things – & I doubt I’ll have the guts to do it in the future. With pop culture, my tolerance has built up but on the other hand, my acceptance levels have plunged with time. As I become older, I can feel my parents loosening their reigns (at a slower rate than the growth rates of grass) and that makes me feel both apprehensive yet assured. Assured that I have done my part of abiding by expectation through the years for which they now trust me to make better decisions on my own. Apprehensive because I am walking away from a secure reign, one that ensured that I never deviated from safety. After years of hearing my mother tell me about things she expects me never to do, more than a choice, it has become my law to abide by. Being a legal teenager in an environment that is widely said to a person’s oyster to experiment, it is definite that peer pressure and curiosity calls you more than responsibility. In my case, my curiosity is outweighed by the countless graphic images of what could possibly go wrong. Nowadays, I seek shelter by staying home or just studying at my usual study areas – out of sight, out of mind, am I right?
This thought also came about from my everlasting friendships (sarcasm intended). I have an invaluable skill – I can keep people close, yet in reality, they are much further away from me. Once it hits the bar, no further progress is made and the relationship just stagnates. What is this bar I speak of? I am not sure of this myself. Many times, it ends abruptly. Maybe because I’m unable to go past a point. Maybe because I’m afraid that people realise that who I am online would not match up to the mask of reality. I never initiate purely recreational trips. I’ve only imagined it – from start to finish. I never got to know someone beyond their current state, beyond the time that we spent together. I just never bothered.
Why? This thought that has been etched in my mind since young, especially after my grandfather’s passing – no one is here to stay. What motivation do we then have to create meaningful relationships in which people understand each other? After all, that person would leave and the effort has to invested again from the very beginning to build such a stable and strong bond.
This has especially become a reality for me. With many close friends who are guys, I feel like all of them are being purged from my life with their impending enlistment and with University awaiting me. Give it time, it creates drifts. Drifts become insurmountable distances and oddly it becomes walls of memories.
I’ve grown to become afraid of reaching out to people. This highly overwhelming thought of how everyone has their own load to lift and how interconnected we all are hit me on the way home from a celebration. I was about to alight the train when I happened to catch a glimpse of the screen of the person in front of me. It had a message of only a few words “She passed on”, but its weight was far heavier to bear. I alighted but panic grappled me. I always knew there would always be an end, an abrupt one at that. More than the person who passed, it’s the people left behind who bear the brunt.
If you guys didn’t know already, after years exposed to the various identities, I thought I found the one for me. I suppose one of the perks of knowing what you identify as (although largely still up for evaluation), you get to classify attractions from interests much more easily, what to pursue and what is being pursued already, what to appreciate and what to own. It caught me off guard when I found myself deviating from the ideal situation. A part of me craved to be free from the mould, just as a guilty pleasure, just like the forbidden fruit. I suppose that has made me now motivated to indoctrinate myself with the much greater intensity of what my beliefs are and what my course of actions are. Well, a new addition to my new mantra courses would definitely have to include how to resist temptations outside the regime.
I almost made the mistake of ruining a perfectly loving friendship which was a form of support and relief for me again. Every single time, I make that mistake. Why wouldn’t I learn? Because sometimes things of the heart don’t exactly fall perfectly with the threads of my mind. It’s okay though because more than that, my once impenetrable belief that this would remain has been so badly shaken. I seem to forget the reality and get swept away by the flows of my wild imagination.
I’m afraid that our comfort with silence becomes our excuse to be silent. I’m afraid that in my mindless liking, I lose the meaning of our origins and the weight of how we came to be.
I had a long post written about how the past had dismantled my ability to feel that sensation, I never came around to posting it. That wasn’t it. Rationality kicked it out. I saw that such sensations had no space in what little memory I have. Thankful for my subconscious for doing what I needed. I am quite happy with the way I feel. Knowing that it’s only an attraction, there will be no pursuit and no effort, a greater appreciation for the present rather than the hopefuls. Knowing that you won’t make mistakes, neither suffer, neither be caught up in this web of ifs and maybes. I’m attracted. That’s the end of it. No fear, no sleepless nights.
I find great relief and satisfaction with knowing at the end of the day, I’ll always be in love with a fictional character (Batman) and an inspiring individual. It also haunts me at times that this is purely fictional and maybe I wouldn’t feel as strongly about anything in reality. Batman has also settled down to be with Catwoman; is it time for me to move on as well?
I should write more. That felt good.