Being “an adult” about things

What is being an adult anyway?

Is it when you are not in your teens anymore? Is it when you start being “responsible”?

Is it when you shed off your fantasies and get real about things? (Get real! Now what is that supposed to mean?)

Is it when you grow a little selfish and start thinking more about your welfare?

Is it when you grow impervious to what others feel?  Is it when you grow impervious to your own feelings? Denial! Acceptance! Blah blah blah. Papa heart please don’t preach me.

Is it when you realize all your dreams were so stupid? Or is it when you realize that they are actually quite real!

Is it when you are swimming in and out of the zone of frustration all the time? Is it when you just don’t care anymore?

Is it when you give up on the idea of romance and soul mates? Or is it when you really put an effort to make your idea of love come true?

Is it when you learn to live with the noise and the hullabaloo around? Or is it when you pursue silence and want the whole world to shut the hell up!

Is it when you begin to appreciate imperfections or is it when you start working hard to eliminate them?

What is being adult anyway?

The reason that I am asking this question is that I have realized that I suck at making decisions. I literally have no backbone of my own. And I am awfully juvenile. And I think the solution for this is – being “adult” about things.

But you know what my fucking problem is! –  I don’t know things.

I am awfully confused and lost. I am an aimless dreamer who is hoping her dreams would come true even with her ass glued to the sofa and the fingers  engaged in an unconscious act of scrolling through the facebook newsfeed all the time…
Ah! How typical of me!
I look at somebody’s life and I am like- “Wow! He has got it all figured out. He has such maturity that I could just drown in envy.”

How terribly wrong I am!
And yet… Even after knowing the very fact…
Growing up is a misleading term. It’s so wrong at so many levels. I feel I was more “mature” when I hadn’t even entered my teens.

What is it? Another one of my grumpy days? Ugh.

No, it’s not another one of my grumpy days actually. Yes, I wish I could shut the whole world right now but well…I can’t.

At this point of time my brain is like – Why do you want to be an adult? If it’s so confusing then just leave it! Like seriously! Dude!

My brain is a pretty chilled out guy. He needs no alcohol. He needs no weed. He is like so high and so at ease ALL THE TIME.

I hate my brain.
My own body doesn’t share half of my feelings with me!

Why do I want to be an adult? Well, because if I am really an adult I think my life would be better. I would take wiser decisions. Make good choices. Have things all figured out.

But that is not being an adult is all about? Is it?
Damn it!


Consumed and rejoiced, too real to know
that some things are just lost in the sands of time,
Lying so adeptly that, “I will see you soon.”
they never quite come back to complete the rhyme.

Choose whatever you want to be,
Ignorant or furious or hopelessly drowned in sorrow,
But the truth will never change; you are nothing but deceived,
Keep praying and begging but they’re not coming back tomorrow.

The whole fucking problem


I was walking across the street the other day and I met an interesting fellow. The young man couldn’t resist himself from making derogatory remarks at me. I wasn’t wearing lingerie, nor was I in a swimsuit, I was just walking to my home in casual jeans and t- shirt and yet this fellow couldn’t take his eyes off of me. Boy! Was I on cloud number nine! But then to my dismay, he rode off. But just when I had begun lamenting over the end of this lovely encounter, he came back.

I enjoyed our little chit chat where he kept commenting and I kept ignoring. When our brief encounters kept happening again and again, I wanted to take my shoes off and throw them at his handsome face to express my love. But then I just thought that that would be too much display of my affection. I guess I am right in assuming that the nice fellow I had just met was so much worthy of my attention that ignoring turned out to be my best move. I didn’t want to fall head over heels for a guy I just met. Did I?

Why do I have to tolerate these fellows making nasty comments at me? I don’t roam around the streets in my pathetic rickety bike and make disgusting comments at any guy I come across. I don’t stare at them from head to toe for eternity. I don’t stop my fucking car and drive close to them honking repeatedly scaring the shit out of them. But of course, I can’t do all this but they can. It’s perfectly alright.
I spend a lot of time wondering whether what I am wearing is appropriate enough to go out in the street. I always make it a point that I don’t stay out of house too late at night. In spite of all these I happen to meet these gentlemen quite often and I make sure that I ignore them all every time. I have to do all this but they don’t and it’s perfectly alright.

Some of my rights are being violated. So what? That’s okay. Some of my freedom has been snatched. So what? That’s okay. Some of my respect and integrity had been compromised with. So what? That’s okay.
No really. That’s okay and the fact that I feel this is the saddest thing that could happen to me.
I have grown to believe that being a girl I just have to neglect some of the things. I have to learn to live with it. I have to tell myself that there is no other choice.
I have to bear it. Don’t I?
I have to be the victim of society. Don’t I?

No actually, you don’t have to do it. There’s someone inside me who is saying this on top of her voice.

I want to believe her. I want to stand by her. But what can I say? Old habits die hard.
I have spent too many years mastering the art of tolerance. It appears so normal that all those violations seem nothing.

Why do you bother girl? You know you are okay; safe and sound! Everything is alright!
So, I have to wait until I am not safe and sound? My rights can be played with and I am not going to give a single fuck?
What is wrong with me?

No, no there is nothing wrong with me. And that is the whole fucking problem. Like every normal person, I have a large limit of tolerance. And that is the fucking problem. Like every other normal person, I feel secretly stupid on not being able to do anything about my own self and yet I don’t do anything. That is the fucking problem. I avoid disrupting my imaginary peaceful life. And that is the fucking problem. I pour a glass of cold water over the burning rage inside me. And that is the fucking problem.
I know that I don’t have to live like this and to be honest no one is even stopping me.
No one except me.
And that…

Is the fucking problem.


About manipulating and getting manipulated

I guess this is one of those days when I just hate everything. I go and find refuge in my playlists, find some company with some of those overplayed songs, feel good about nothing and just waste my whole day. Of course, then “self- worth” ghost that always keeps hovering around me squeaks in her pathetic little voice – “You waste your day anyway be it your bad mood day or a good mood day, so don’t blame it on the day, it’s you pathetic person! It’s you!

Wow. Was I not upset enough?

I don’t even want to bitch about this ghost. It’s tiring. She doesn’t deserve my attention, let alone a whole blog post.

However, the truth is she already has too much of my attention. Yeah. And I don’t think I can spare anymore. I am already hanging on a thin thread. I don’t need more tension and the stress.

Anyway, it’s a bad day. I have to talk about something even more not-happy!

And so here it goes-

It suddenly strikes me now that all I have ever done in my life is to get manipulated. Actually, my whole life is a result of manipulation. And I am not just a victim. I have manipulated others as well.

It’s like a tradition; we get manipulated. We manipulate others. If we are not good at it then we spend an enormous amount of money to learn to manipulate someone. We get manipulated even if we are aware of the very fact. We get manipulated even when the thought doesn’t even remotely cross our minds. We manipulate others in quite similar ways. God, it’s a vicious cycle!

World needs to stop for a moment.

And I need to remember when was the last time that I had an original idea which was free of other people opinions.

Original idea? What is originality anyway?

You know manipulation isn’t as bad as it sounds. We have learnt to live with it. The advertisements, the newspaper, the parents, the friends, the teachers. They are not bad? Come on parents? Sometimes, it all works out for the best. Maybe even the bestest thing in your life can be a result of a hard core brainwash. But at the same time, doesn’t it all begin to feel so pointless? Why do we need someone to wash our brains? Can’t we think on our own?

We need some serious answers. We don’t need opinions.

Do we?

Do we?

Maybe the truth, the real answers are too harsh to bear and hence we just leave ourselves in the hands of others. And all we get in our lives are opinions.

Yeah, this is me consoling myself.

So, am I trying to say that we don’t need answers?

I want myself to think that. Yes.

Oh! Boy! I am back to square one. It’s true isn’t it? Ignorance is bliss.