Monday, June 30, 2014

Please believe

When I was a teenager I imagined that by the time I hit my twenties I'd have become the accomplished young woman who knew what she wanted in her life, was out to get it and knew which things mattered in life.
I'm 22 and I cringe at the mere thought of being called a woman. I think I'm still clueless and no way as strong enough as a woman needs to be. So I take the easy way out, and convince myself that "girl" or "woman" are just labels we create for a female so we know what she is as a person. That's just my way of rationalizing an issue that bothers me. Finding a way to make it seem insignificant.

Do you see how we keep saying the same things. Do you hear your own thoughts going around in circles, do you see how your advice is something you wish you could do and how your arguments revolve around a line of thinking you wish to adopt?
Not every time I argue it's in favor of what I believe in. And I realize, we're just trying to convince each other of things we want to believe in, hoping that their faith in something might reach us too.

But if I wait for you to believe in me, or to approve of who I am in order to think myself worthy, I might lose myself completely. If I'm going to wait till you call me a "woman" to see myself as one then I might end up thinking myself a "girl" all my life. I shouldn't be waiting for you.
I'm telling you here because I want to tell myself, it's the only way I can get it to listen to anything.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

About a girl

This goes out to A. 
Sit there and hear someone say they wish someone else was there with them, what a humbling place to be. Sit there, and know you're not doing anything to make the pain go away. You're there, true. You can walk around acting like you made a difference. But truth of the matter is, it changed you whether you want to admit it or not. Because I know it changed me. This is how I make it about me when in fact it's nothing to do with me at all. 'Sit, stay quiet, listen', I remind myself. I felt if I said anything it'd stop the raw honesty of it all. 

And I couldn't or rather wouldn't compromise that. After the first time, I kept wishing I wouldn't see her because I thought if I saw her then, I’d probably have an urge to hug her and say nothing. Or I was scared I'd stare at her too long and she'll regret having me around. But I’ll probably hold back. I help her pretend I didn't see any of that, but I load my smile with an extra care. I don't know if it shows, I don't know if your smiles change when you want them to but you realize you care about people when you'd do anything to fight their demons away. 

I stayed up till 6 a.m. In the beginning she was lucid enough. She made her usual jokes and witty remarks, to prove that it’s not as bad as it looks, so that she doesn’t look weak in front of us. I think it was more about not allowing herself to show that side in front of anyone, not because of what we might think but because of what she'll end up thinking herself to be. It'll only confirm one of her worst fears. 

Her weakness. What's wrong with you, people suffer much more everyday and you can't even handle a single headache? She makes light of her pain, isn't that what we do? Belittle our suffering so we can face it better, or to help us ignore it completely until it shows up again. 

She grew fidgety, kept turning this side and that, she kept trying not hold on to me but in the end relented. I remember her calling her friend’s name first. And then her mother. The worse part is the helplessness. She knows it, that's why she'd rather not tell anyone until it's over. She's extremely aware of what she's going through and I don't think anyone is more capable of showing up the next day as if the previous night wasn't one of the worst she's ever had. 

I was on the verge of dozing off but I knew I wouldn’t, she managed to sleep for a few minutes until something violently woke her up. In the end, she grew calmer, I don’t know if she had no strength to fight it anymore, or whether she got used to it or she actually felt a little better. I was surprised when she started making sure I was covered well, and I didn’t want her to keep worrying about me so I left. 

This isn't as sentimental as I'd like it to be because I haven't said anything about how much I actually care and how I look at it as something that got us closer, in a way. But I'm glad that for an hour or two, it was me. And that's as far as I can go on about making it about me again. 

PS: You're human and pain is very real. 
 PPS: Don't worry you never said anything that might incriminate you. I don't have any blackmail material sadly.