Love of Your Life?

 I have spent my whole life dreaming of finding "the one". My person. But recent events have made me question the very premise of this need. What does it even mean to be the love of a life? In my culture, they force people to get married as early as possible, and they just get through life. Some find happiness, but most just fall into codependency or everyday abuse. Billions are living like this. Then how are these statements true? What evidence do we have to substantiate this nonsense that first literature and now the expansive media throws our way? I call bullshit!

Over the course of this life, I have sometimes believed I know love and most other times its been beyond me. I kept his note, his toys, and I refused to touch his gifts. What did those bitches keep except my best! I falsely believed it meant anything. They all moved on, only wounds remain on me. I fucking gave my best to them all. The damn lewy bodies that must have been generated in my brain from all the stress and the anxiety I went through, fuck these bitches. My body suffered, my brain suffered, my soul is tormented. Where is their karma! Someone make it make sense.

Makes me want to give up on life. What is the point anyways? This whole drama of finding a dude, making said dude happy, and then keeping the dude happy sounds exhausting to me. And when he cheats, you gotta pull yourself up again. Give him kids destroying your body. Raise said kids destroying it further, and then he will find someone else. Also, I don't want to jail anyone. Bitch better leave than drown me with him. What if he becomes an addict? What if he makes stupid financial decisions and ruins us both? What if he dies? Who will deal with this much emotional trauma! 

I look at my mom and wonder what did she ever get, except maybe Stockholm syndrome? She has convinced herself that she did the right thing for the kids by staying with the walking abuse of a man. She cared for his bedridden mother for 12 years, raised his 2 kids, cared for his brother, and built a house for him. And said dude was enjoying his life, getting drunk on weekends, partying and vacationing with his friends. What did he lose? Nothing. What did she gain? A sore and broken body and spirit. Fuck that!

 I used to think pretty women have it better. They can find the good ones. But upon closer inspection, I realize one must be pretty but also naive or manipulative enough. Those are the ones getting it, rest all are settling and adjusting their expectations. My fat ass and ugly face don't stand a chance here. 

Not going to lie, I feel lonely everyday. I have felt this loneliness everyday since I was a child. But I guess after 3 decades, one must wise-up and face the music. No one is coming. All friends are gone. The moments of lighthearted joys are gone. I never got to be the silly, fun, and happy girl out on the town. The youth was fucking wasted. All I got was an year. Maybe that's all it was. i fixed my body and my soul was happy, even if it was a fleeting moment in time. Yesterday, I looked at my body. My butt has dimples deeper than the craters on mars. It looked like the butt of a middle-aged woman. My cheeks can only camouflage my age only so long, the slap is coming. Better to get this head straight before shit hits the fan, and get a visor.

Bury the remains of these dreams, and accept the weight of these old bones.

Ultimately, I question the point of this life. Why! What the actual fuck! 100% regret. Why am I even alive? What is going to change even if I fix my career? There is no happiness in my life. There is no soul alive today whom I want to call and share anything. I am just drudging on, only lord knows why. If this is all indeed a simulation, I'd like to change the damn seed. Why was I given this?  I know, given what I have now, I am probably in the 90th percentile of all women in the world, in absolute quality of life. But this only further proves my point of what is this world and what is the point of all this anyways! So much suffering all around, no ground is untouched by a tormented soul. Yet we keep going, Why?

How to Live for Joy?

I took a day off and traveled to see the eclipse yesterday. A spry young group of 20-something grad students and my old bones. While feeling immense guilt on the account of missing work, I partly forced myself to go. As a scientist, I know enough to know the causality behind this spectacle, but the subjective experience is something science will never be able to explain. 

Nauseous, red-faced, and partly dehydrated, I sat on a rock cowering under my umbrella to stand witness to this cosmic dance. Awe-inspiring! As the moon moved closer to the sun, the sky became darker as the  wind cooled. The fire of sun's surface, a calming white glow, seemed so surreal that I could not believe what my own eyes. And to think, I would have missed this just because of stupid work that will always be there. 

All my life, I have dreamed of freedom and my own money to make decisions for myself. I wanted to run away from that house and my circumstances to find joy. In this running, I didn't realize that I never learned to find and live with joy. Those twenty-somethings around me -- of all shapes and sizes -- weren't bound by such barriers. Each with their individuality were striving for and living with joy. I don't mean to idealize their lives or discount their challenges; after all, what do I really know about them as they do about me? Yet, I cannot shake this feeling of being bound my own insecurities and hiding in my room. 

I know survival and delayed gratification. I can possibly write a book about sacrifice and fighting to escape toxic situations. I know self-restraint and perseverance. But I don't know joy. I don't know how to look in the mirror and not hate the person. I don't know how to shake to this feeling and dialogue of being unworthy of everything. How can I make this life meaningful for me? The fear of everything, from heights to fire and injury, all have me in a death grip. None of this is helpful and all of this feels suffocating. I don't want to rely on anyone, except myself. 

Somehow, must get myself out of this and into light.

The Pain That Persists

Like blood that flows beneath the skin, unseen

the pain of losing us always persists within

fought, bargained, suppressed-- all I tried

but a fleeting reminder of the memories reincarnate it all, burning alive

no slave seems to heal this wound

pressure, bandaging and medicines failed too

They say, let it go, forward is the way

But look, it's all still here, glowing red in my veins

 

 

The Dream of You

 I saw you checked my profile today, and the otherwise angry and frustrating day became lighter for a few moments. Even after 13 years, I remember you and I am sure you have no idea how much you meant to me. 

My world was on fire, an implosion that made no sound. The vacuum was sucking me in and I couldn't tell anyone. In those moments, as I was pretending and ignoring everything around me as a numb rock, it was you -- mostly the though of you -- that was always a respite. I saw in you everything I didn't have. The seductive calmness, the honest sparkle of those coffee-colored eyes, and our silly talks were like a tether keeping me sane. The picture of you looking over the ground, radiating peace, is imprinted on my brain. I know you had your own troubles. I wanted more, for things to be deeper than they were, but I just assumed you had enough people and I wasn't even an afterthought in your world. Some may call it a school girl crush, a limerance, or a distraction, but I felt it. Whatever it was, it was pure.

Over the years, from time to time, I look back and see how you are doing. The journey you have been on must have been pretty challenging; I was always happy to see you succeed. I hope your life is joyful and fresh, full of opportunities and purpose. I have always wished you nothing but the best. We might never meet again, but even after all this time, I still hold a piece of you in my heart. I guess it's best that it never came to be more as I probably would have screwed it up.

Precisely what I want

I often dream of the What Ifs

What if he said this and I said that 

What if he too felt the same and told me so

What if I had the courage to take the first steps

What if I had chosen differently

What if he was the one..........

But deep down I know these are fantasies, a coping mechanism of my ever-present state of loneliness. As you know, dear reader (if you exist), that I have always felt incredibly alone. All throughout childhood, youth, and now supposedly mid life. And, I always used to dream of scenarios that were wishful of a happier existence. When I was bullied as a child, called ugly by pretty much everyone, and basically treated poorly by peers and adults alike, I dreamed of an adventure far away from all those folks.

Not much has changed today. I dream of making different decisions that I did. I dream of a past where I was not lonely. I wish I didn't choose him. I wish that he rose up to the challenges and fought for me. I wish I was better so that I didn't hate looking into the mirror. I wish I was not this ball of anxiety and issues that drives everyone away no matter how much I care. 

While not much is in my hands, I do know that none of the boys I liked before were right for me. I might not have chosen wisely at first, but I did get around to doing the right thing. I often question if what I felt at the time was love, but it doesn't matter now. None of them could handle the full me and that is OK. 

 I want a partner who gets me, like core compiler level understanding of my internal code. A person who is brilliant, kind, and loves my humor. I need someone who will enjoy silence with me, the boring side, the workaholic side, but also loves and supports my spontaneity. He understands that I overthink to the degree of ridiculousness and I say things I don't mean, and has the heart to forgive me. Looks have never been a factor in my choice thus far; if only I could post images here, you'd be surprised at my range. Yet, this time, for the lifetime, I want someone who complements me. Looks like he belongs to me. He is my best friend and I am his. I do not want another project to fix, I don't have it in me anymore. I do not want someone I am lukewarm to who grows on me due to my own insecurities and fear of being alone.

I want a companion to share my life with. From the goofy, thrill-seeking side, to the utterly destroyed, wounded and hurt, take my all and carry it with me. I will accept all of you and carry it with you. 

That's all.

Change of Me

What maketh a man, and a woman!

I have some sort of undiagnosed OCD or something; I have always been worried about my health. There is an inferiority in me about my body that goes beyond the surface -- from just looks to deep beneath the skin-- and makes me question everything. As you know, dear reader, that last year I was pushed to the edge. I started healing this year. It a start, not there yet!

Supplements, something most will scoff over, have changed my life. Even when I go through depressive cycles now, I have this awareness that I am not as bad as I was just a couple of months ago. There is something, my body is being a buoy, and saving me from the depths of despair that I know my mind is capable of taking me. Just indescribably unfathomable to me that a few pills -- mostly iron and vitamin D -- can change a person so profoundly.I got my blood work back and I am no longer in the danger zone of anything. The one thing I have nightmares about, diabetes, was thankfully, praise all gods, not there. My A1c was good. Iron and vitamin D on the rise.

There is just one last thing left to do: fix cholesterol. My LDLs are high and so is total cholesterol (read 263!). Yikes! I have realized the error of my ways. A pizza a day is a not a good meal, who would have thought! That is my comfort food these day and its killing me.

 I have decided to eat cabbage and beans everyday. I like both, in fact, I love beans and I can cook them well. Also, I want to start my physical training too. Strength training of body and mind. While physical training is for my knees and stuff (everything hurts!), I am going to start meditating everyday. This wandering, tortured mind mind needs healing too, the body can only do so much. Going to start with 5 mins and go from there. Let's see how well it goes.

If Only You Knew

 An introvert's curse is that even though solitude is necessary and comforting, it is also an impermeable moat that keeps people out. My moat is my inability to form friendships, especially with other introverts. Always some extrovert or chatty person will pick me, for reasons unbeknownst,  and we will be friends. Yet, I do grieve the loss of those whom I wanted in my life, but due to this fatal flaw, I couldn't. 

If only you knew how much I liked you and disliked your fan following. I never understood where we stood, maybe it was all in my head. I wish I could tell you what I really wanted, how much I struggled internally, and how much sadness I felt when you chose the other one. She is an amazing person, an extrovert of extroverts and I know why it worked for you two. I still regret the day you asked me for that silly game, and I, in my shyness and awkwardness, declined. I should have said yes, but I can't change the past. I am happy you had your group, and take solace in the fact that you will never know I wrote poems for you (can't say much to their merit, but at least I did). I can't image the magnitude of shock you will feel if you ever do.

We will, possibly, in classic me fashion, never meet again. It is close to being an year since I last saw you, and all we will be is people who shared a workspace together for a brief slice of time. In another life though, who knows, you and me try harder.