Inside the mind of an Overthinker

Standard

READ: Purely imaginary content, any similarity with any living person is unintentional.

I’m looking at the last text I sent, it’s been an hour. Why hasn’t she replied yet? I text again, urging her to reply. Maybe she’s not seen the message yet, what if she did? Did I say something wrong at any point of our conversation? I scroll through, carefully scrutinizing each sentence, cringing at each typo. I’m trying to figure out what went wrong…the voice in my head tells me you’re overthinking but some part of me can’t stop worrying. What if she’s in trouble? I call her phone, her landline. Tring Tring : No answer. A bead of sweat breaks out, I check her social media…no statuses, no tweets.

The voice in my mind scolds me. Tells me to stop this nonsensical behavior, she’ll call me back when she can. Another hour passes, I’m staring blankly at my phone. I can’t stop myself from thinking up the most awful scenarios. Soon, I drift into a disturbed slumber. The alarm wakes me up from that wakeful sleep…” Sorry, dozed off.” says my notification bar, she’s fine. I breathe a sigh of relief.


 

Went to the mall with my family, my parents want me to buy clothes. There is this huge sale going on. We go to various stores, my parents look at the clothes…I see the price tag. I don’t want them to waste money on this. But no one wants me to speak…every time I utter something, my father shuts me off. My mother stands up for me. The breakout of another argument, the name-calling begins. They’re both trying to smite each other. I can’t handle the stress, my mind is overwhelmed. I want to crawl inside a hole and sun-bathe in the darkness. I want to be alone. My Voice and I begin another one of those conversations, both of us debating about if I should point out the flaw of logic in my father’s words. Each time he utters something, I take offence on my mother’s behalf.

I want to help her but I can’t, that’d draw more attention. His masculinity doesn’t like backing down to a measly Eighteen year old. They quiet down, still poking each other by hypebolically describing each other’s shortcomings. I want to scream! the Voice has kept a clear record of every bad thing, and she plays it on a loop. I try to stop the thoughts but they don’t want to stop, the Voice is more powerful. Her emotions have more vehemence, she screams at me : ” Get a backbone! stop being such a victim. Fight back, push them! You have to.”

I think of taking the usual escapist’s route and try to find a way to reach oblivion, trying to get rid of the stress, anxiety. I think of leaving, but I can’t…I think of all the bad things that can happen to me. At least I’m protected here, another place would be completely unknown and everything would be beyond my control. My Voice says to be selfish and to be brave, she goes on like this for a while. She realizes after some time that her words are falling on deaf ears, she back tracks and tries to soothe me. She says she’ll figure it out soon enough.


 

Advertisements

Ace.

Standard

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know what LGBTQ stands for. We all speak about the lesbians, gays, bisexuals and trans-people but what does the “Q” at the end signify? The Q stands for questioning. What this means is that sexuality is fluid and the only person who can define it is you. The Questioning stands for the minority within the minorities. It represents the asexuals, demisexuals, gender-fluid people etcetera. Yes, asexuality does exist, it is possible for someone to feel no sexual attraction. That doesn’t mean that they don’t possess romantic feelings, it means that if sex can exist without love then why can’t love exist without sex?

One percent of the entire population identifies as “Ace”. And though it may seem a very small statistic, it’s Seventy Million people we’re talking about. And it’s Seventy Million people who are ignored, undermined; who “haven’t found the right person yet”. It is okay to look at people and find them beautiful because of their unusually dark red hair, sparkling green eyes or to admire them for their high cheekbones that seem like art. It’s okay to have feelings and not want sex and vice versa.

A ‘normal’ relationship consists of both love and sex. But what about the present generation is ‘normal’? This is a generation that thrives on being unique and asking them to change who they are in order to fit into the “normalcy” of society is somewhat like asking them to kill a part of themselves.” Ace” is just as real as all the other forms of sexuality that exist, it is possible to find someone stunning without finding them sexually attractive.

Saved By The Bell.

Standard

One of the Four,

Was a white-haired bore,

Known as the Dragon Lady behind those doors.

She called me by my name,

Jumbled up all of my documents.

A look of judgement in their eyes,

This event was such an inconvenience to their time,

Was my visiting this institution a crime?

They were unnecessarily rude,

The sneer in their veneer,

Is the reason why I brood.

Is this the way they teach?

Do they follow the values they preach?

All I hear is her s_c_r_e_e_c_h!

 

The experience was rich.

The sadness of a ruined day,

Rescued me from the perpetual sorrow of morrow,

From a week  made of Mondays,

A long commute for 365 days.

I’m better off.

That’s all I have to say.

 

 

Advantages of Ugliness.

Standard

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, but actually it is the prefrontal cortex of our brain that determines who we find suitable as a mate, i.e, who we would produce evolutionarily  strong off-springs with. On the general spectrum of attractiveness, the majority of us fall somewhere in the middle but for an exceptional group of humans, like me, our DNA chooses to enforce the saying : beauty comes from the inside. In other words, I’m not attractive…I’m cute, cute like a sea-lion or walrus. Cute because I’m awkward and my face does weird things in the name of expression. Mean people have sometimes called me ugly as well, but my mother says I’m beautiful- so it must be true (not).

People think that ugliness is a curse, but on the contrary, it’s a blessing in disguise. I mean, sometimes I do wish I had a smaller nose or thicker hair but mostly I’m fine with being this way. Being ugly is a self-esteem enhancer in the sense that, anyone who likes you doesn’t do so because you’re “pretty”. They do it because they like your personality, because they like the quirks and the eccentricities that make you who you are. Being ugly teaches you the value of knowledge and makes you see beyond your reflection…it makes you appreciate the aesthetic of common things, the charm of everyone around you.  I get a wicked jolt of ecstasy every time I think that when the calendars will change and wrinkles will rise…what will the shallow promoters of skin-deep beauty do? Botox , maybe. Be confident because you’re more than just an asymmetrical face: you are a soul, probably an awesome person too.

So enjoy ugliness. Be ugly. High School will end and prettiness will fade, but you’ll still have that sexy box called ‘brain’.

Food and Feels.

Standard

How do you describe emotions? Tricky is one word, also labyrinthine is a befitting description. Emotion, feelings, hormones- all the components of a good old irrational psyche, the constituents behind all illogical mishaps. Food ,on the other hand, is love. Food is the light pouring out from within the gloomy clouds. Food is delicious, warm and it stands for everything that is good and right in this jungle of chaos. A bad day, a regrettable haircut, a broken leg or anything worse…there is no manifestation of anguish that a scrumptious feast can’t reduce. Invariably, rejecting emotions and choosing food over it seems like the most coherent choice. But what seems rational is not always good for us.

Being prone to depression myself, I deal with it in the most convinient way possible, by binge-eating junk food and chugging down soda. Drowning my sorrows in aerated drinks is easy, so instead of facing them…I drink Pepsi.  And as one would guess, the fact that I’m overweight is a safe bet. It’s very difficult to cope and food provides a welcome distraction. The reason behind discussing this topic is that the Earth is a forlorn setting and even though choosing the diversion feels good, don’t do it.

For a very brief span of time, you do experience bliss but it doesn’t last, does it?  The vacuum is still there, it still persists. The only thing that will change, is your B.M.I and  you become so fat that you’re just a Kg or a few lbs away from a clogged artery waiting to burst. So be strong and fight the darkness. Food does feel great but that liberty and lightness you achieve when you overcome your demons is  worth the struggle.

Utilise your moxie. Stay strong and keep trying, because you will succeed.

A Description of the All-night Vigil.

Standard

One word: Insomina, a beautiful lexicon which describes the torment that is habitual sleeplessness. Lying listlessly enveloped in sheets, night after night, going through a milder form of sleep deprivation; taking the longer route to neuroticism. Staring at the dark ceiling in complete wakefulness, contemplating god knows what. Constantly reasoning why we are awake, why we are tired yet unable to sleep. Wondering why our minds won’t shut down, repeating a lyric glued in our memory on a loop or enjoying the faint echo of nostalgia. Thinking up delightful yet ludicrous scenarios of impossible probabilities, preparing ingenious retorts for a fight that the future may anticipate. Worrying for our loved ones,fidgeting over vexatious thoughts tumbling in our minds. Losing sleep over what unforseen distress the morrow will bring. The pain of an insomniac is inexplicable. Engulfed in fatigue and fretfulness- still moving forward, still trying to make it through the day, in hope of slumber.

Stress and Distress.

Standard

Hello? Is anybody out there?

Can you hear me?Please…help.

I’m stuck down here, help me!

Do you hear me? I can’t get out…

Say something! Do you see me?

Here! In the well! Anyone?

It’s dark down here and cold

And I’m scared and alone.

 

What are you doing down there?

Said a lady in grey clothing and hair.

Scowling at the girl stuck inside the well,

she asked:Why are you making such a fuss?

The well doesn’t even have that much depth.

The girl below stared hopefully at the

Woman peering at her from above.

The grey lady spoke again,

People have much greater troubles,

Some are stuck in canyons

Whilst you draw attention to your shallow well.

Get out of the well on your own.

The girl replied: But how?

I don’t see a ladder or a rope…

How do I get myself out of here?

How do I cope?

Clamber up the walls,

The other voice said.

But I don’t see walls,

I see darkness everywhere;

Why won’t you help me?!

The grey woman left her alone.

 

Alone inside the damp,dark well.

Alone with her thoughts,

Succumbing to her helplessness,

Pain throbbing in the middle of her chest,

Mucus closing down her wind pipe,

Left alone with no help,

Stuck inside a well…

Because others had canyons.


What depression, anxiety, and other similar problems feel like. Greater problems of another, don’t make your problems any less. Seek help. Don’t be The Girl In The Well.