If anyone had ever wondered what went wrong and at what point in time, they would always be left in awe because they would find either too many reasons or none at all. That’s the way our mind works. The key is not always to search for meanings, but to keep the work going.
I cannot find a quirky anecdote. I cannot make a relatable video. I feel awkward sharing something so personal to me. I don’t feel like I should keep staring at the past as if it were the first time I was seeing my beloved. I don’t want to explain with words how I continue to be hurt by the overdue presence of my past in the present. I lack the literary knack to make my words outshine my dismay with the world. I cannot mimic others who have won because it makes me feel weak, and I want to do something new.
I can only sit back, relax, and watch the world until now.
I’m working on it, and I’m telling you how I’m doing it.
Until now, it was fine, but they told me that this is not enough. Of course, it wasn’t. Of course, someone else had told me this before. But this time it is different. It is different because after spending a lot of time in places oblivious to my heart and mind, I feel like I don’t belong here. Physically, I have always been somewhere, here or elsewhere, doing my stuff. I have always lauded myself for thinking beyond what others have been thinking because it may have satisfied my ego and my eccentricity of being better than others in a million ways possible, while at the same time accepting that I have been left in the lurch because others have always been better than me at things I cannot even possibly think of.
Until now, I have come up with solutions to rise above myself, only to later forget that such ideas were ever discussed. Then weeks pass, months pass, and years pass, and I come back to recollect what I had left behind, only to find that the same idea has already been processed, displayed, and lauded by the world. Matter of fact, I enjoy that too because I am a seeker of entertainment in whatever form possible that could numb me from the time I usually spend overthinking about the very things I am currently writing about.
Until now, I have believed that I never had the time. It constantly slipped away from my hands. I tried to hold on to it. I tried to stop it. I went into endless introspections. I searched for a single idea that would wake me up, push me forward, and get me where I want to be, get me what I need, and make me equal to my understanding of myself. But that hasn’t gone well with time. Either I have been too fast or I have been too slow. There have been moments that constantly told me that I simply don’t know what to do because perhaps I have never known.
When someone tells me what to do, I cannot do it because my ego steps in front of me and says that this is not what I’m made for. I deserve better. I have already done so many big things, and this is nothing in comparison to my stature. In such thoughts, I have slipped and slipped again, never being able to find a stable spot where I could rest my feet.
Everything has happened until now.
And until now, I have constantly been bombarded by words. I have been in my own world, trying to fight devils that don’t even exist. That’s why I have found my peace in struggles, romanticising them, feeling overly connected to them, because I could always make a story out of them for my own pleasure.
If you ask me what profession I want to be in, I would say filmmaking. Making stories that I can tell through films and writings. Yet I know that I haven’t made a credible film in years. I haven’t published my most important works in a tangible format yet. But I have done great in things I never would have known that it even existed in me. So, it’s kind of a balance there – I was meant to do something, but I didn’t, and I did what I wasn’t meant to do. The case is not if it pays my bills, but does it make me contented? I think it’s simple to know that it’s making my days possible, so I cannot thank it enough!
So yes, until now, I have thought that the world had shied away from me.
Matter of fact, I have shied away from the world.
The fact is that everything is true while nothing is. The underlying truth is that whatever it is, whatever it has been, I don’t care. Or perhaps I shouldn’t care. If I do, I’ll still end up in the same spot, writing the same age-old words like these that make little sense. They are just devils in my head towards whom I am brandishing the best of my swords, but they are not even here. They never were. They were imaginations sprouting out of my free mind because I needed struggles. I needed to romanticise them. I wanted to know what lay beyond the walls that only I had created to amuse myself.
It has been a big mistake.
But it’s okay, until now.
There must be a truce because it isn’t as simple as getting attractive to the world. The world should appear to me as attractive. The feelings must be mutual. There’s no point in getting shy when we don’t accept that we were meant to be together right from the beginning.
Now, instead of getting shy, I am going to propose the world in all my conscience and of course, love. With this, she and I would become an example to the world.
