Dear Under Appreciated Self

Dear Under Appreciated Self,

I am sorry.
I am sorry for not having loved you enough. I am sorry for constantly doubting you. I am sorry for not believing you're the least bit deserving of all the goddamn love in the world.
Because you are.
You are all that and so much more.
I always complained that nobody treated you right, and you were never anybody's first priority. Including mine.
I never gave you the love you needed and then blamed you for not being lovable.
I am sorry you had to go through this without me. I am sorry you had to go through it against me.
I am sorry you were my second option. I am sorry I cared for everyone else more than I did for you. You always should have been my first priority.
I am sorry I let anxiety and depression talk me into doing and saying things I never should have even thought of.
I realize now, all you needed was to be loved by me.
Because everyone else will leave; it's each for his own out here in this unforgiving, cruel world.
And I am sorry for it all, and hope you can forgive me. Because I plan on fixing it.
I will fix everything.
I will fix us.

With Love,

Your Flawed Self

Dear Science Students And Everyone Who Got Offended

Dear Science Students And Everyone Who Got Offended,

Here I am, again.
And I am here because there has been massive recoil on my previous post, which was also addressed to science students.
I want to make it completely transparent that I, in no way whatsoever, wrote it to degrade you lot.
My logic here is simple: you take pride in your subjects, so why shouldn't I? Sure, perhaps you are more interested in chemistry than I am, but do not shit on me and everything I believe in just because it's not the same as your beliefs and interests.
To the person who said "I am a science student because I achieved to be so." The whole point of this blog was to tell you, everybody, that dumb students do not choose arts because they can't cope with science or commerce. We choose arts because, just as you develop a keen interest in studying atoms or gravity or pressure, we find beauty in the way the mind works and society functions.
Yes, perhaps our textbooks aren't as thick or heavy and perhaps our portion only consists of 10 chapters, maximum. But that does not mean what we are studying is not important. In no way does it make us worthless or unable to contribute to society.
Think about depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia. Where do you think people with these disorders would be right now if it weren't for the multiple advancements made in the field of psychology?
Without economics and being able to study the per capita income or gross domestic product, without any knowledge of the supply and demand curves and inflation rates, without a proper understanding of the economy and needs of people, and without the ability to make economically efficient allocation of resources, it would be nearly impossible for nations to progress.
Every subject has it's own pros and cons.
I'm also not saying each and every science student is like this. But a majority of you are.
So if you're one of the few science students who does not consider arts inferior, I apologize for having generalized in my previous post.
I have seen several memes on the internet. One such that I saw quite recently, was one that said "I do not always talk to arts students, but when I do, I order large fries."
Does anybody want to take a wild fucking guess how many times I've been told "Drop out and be unemployed already. It's not like you have a lot of career options in the future with arts anyway"?
More times than I can count.
Oh, and the part where I say you don't enjoy your subjects? That I do apologize for, because that is not always true.
I just feel like we, as a community, have been conditioned to place science above arts even though it is not true. We have been told science is for the smart people and arts is for those who weren't smart enough get into science. Not true, is it? We are here because we chose to be here.
In conclusion, my blog was not written with the objective of making science students feel like shit.
It was only written so that I could defend myself for being an arts student, because apparently, that's what it has come to. I wrote it so I could defend myself against the discrimination that I, along with so many others, have been facing, so that finally, maybe we could see it come to an end.

Sincerely hoping I don't offend anyone this time,

An Arts Student 

Dear Science Students

Dear Science Students,

I am sorry your subjects are difficult. I am sorry you can’t cope with them more often than not. I am sorry you have three subjects more than I do and most of all, I am sorry I chose to do something I love.

I am sorry for everything I am about to say, but you need to hear it.

You are not better than me. I still have to study, like you do. I still have books, I still have assignments. I still have a brain and feelings, too.

So every time you say to me “You’re an arts student because you’re stupid”, think again.

I am an arts student because I chose to be so.

And I did not choose my subjects because it means less studying and an easy time.

I made this decision because I would rather spend my education learning about how the mind works and about society rather than chemicals and the human anatomy.

This is what I love and shame on you if you can’t respect that.

Yes, I got 92% in my tenth boards and yes, I did not have math or science.

But that doesn’t mean I was handed that 92% on a silver fucking platter.

No, I worked just as hard as you did. I studied day in and day out and I went to my tuitions every single day. And I solved papers and revised everything a thousand times, just like you did.

So don’t you dare invalidate that. Don’t you dare come and tell me that my 92% doesn’t count because I had economics, commerce and arts as my subjects.

Quit complaining about how science is the most difficult stream ever and arts is a cakewalk.

I am sorry you don’t enjoy your subjects.

I am sorry you have to continually put arts students down just to feel good about choosing science.

I am sorry, but get a fucking life, mate.

Sincerely,

An Arts student

just because

just because she tells you her parents aren’t home doesn’t mean she wants you to come over.
just because she says her lips are chapped doesn’t mean it’s an invitation for you to force your lips upon hers.
just because she occasionally touches your arm while talking doesn’t mean she wants yours all over her.
just because she says she’s had more than one boyfriend doesn’t mean she’s easy.
just because she’s had a few casual relationships doesn’t mean she’ll sleep with everyone who comes her way.
just because she doesn’t tell you to shut up when you call her ‘hot’, ‘sexy’, etc., doesn’t mean she likes it.
just because she doesn’t slap you when you shamelessly stare down her top doesn’t mean she likes being objectified.
just because she doesn’t block you on snapchat when you ask her for nudes doesn’t mean she secretly wants you.
just because she’s being nice does not mean she wants to be taken advantage of.

since you've been gone

something came in the mail for you today. 

and all of a sudden, i was reminded of you. all over again, like the roof falling down upon me. but not all of a sudden. no, the roof didn’t come crashing down. it closed in on me, inch by inch. i could see it coming down and i couldn’t do a thing to save myself, or to save you. and i watched as it crushed everything one by one- the bookshelf, the couch, the cute little souvenirs kept on the wooden frame mounted up against the wall. it slid down, as if it were a slippery roadside covered in moss and algae just after the rain. it  came down upon my shoulders, like a weight i couldn’t carry. i felt like atlas. i could feel the oxygen in the air getting scarce. i struggled for breath as i tried to find a way out, but you were already lying unconscious on the floor. and there, i started reliving those moments over and over and over again. the moment amma woke me up in the morning with a tear-stained face, telling me you were in the hospital. the moment we were on the plane and amma got up to go to the washroom and came back, sniffing and blowing her nose into a tissue. the moment we landed, and instead of taking a cab to the hospital, we took a cab to ajja and bappamma’s house. the moment i asked her “aanu is still alive, isn’t he?” and she told me “just get in the cab”. i remember every second of that awful day. i remember crying for all of the two hours in the cab. i remember crying and not caring what anybody that might see me thought. i remember preparing myself to see you, swearing to myself that i wouldn’t cry in front of all those people. but what i remember most vividly, the most heartbreaking moment of all- when i finally walked into the apartment. people were everywhere- ones i knew, ones i didn’t know, ones that had known me since i was a child and others whose names i couldn’t even remember. but all of these people knew you. they knew you as a little boy and as a fresh-faced college going young man. some knew you as the talented boy from the school band, others knew you as the hard-working and dedicated man that you were. and they were all here for you. but none of this broke me as much as seeing you there- lying on the floor, clad in all white. you looked almost peaceful- i could’ve thought you were asleep. but you weren’t snoring the way you usually did. and for the first time, i wished you were snoring that loud, sleep-disrupting snore of yours. i thought of all the times i got up and slept in the other room because of your snoring, and then in that moment, i would’ve given up everything in this world to hear you snore once again. you weren’t wearing your glasses. you looked so incomplete without them. you were always so alive aanu, always there. whether you were angry, sad, happy, sleeping, a whole state away from me- you were there. no matter all that. but suddenly, you weren’t. you were just… gone. gone in a flash like those beautiful clouds in the sky that remain in that beautiful pattern for just a second, and by the time you can get to your phone to take a picture, it’s gone. and the sky will never be the same again. my sky will never be the same again. 

i never thought of losing you so early. the thought never crossed my mind. i always figured we’d have a lot of time to spend together. to do all the father-daughter activities we always dreamed of. painting my room, redoing the house. getting a dog, cooking together on sundays. movie nights and you introducing me to new bands. you getting to watch as i got 92% in my boards, and moved here to bangalore like you always wanted me to. and go to this college, just like you’d always dreamed for me. and it’s all gone. it’s all gone now.

a lot of what i am today- a lot of who i am, is all because of you. every morning, i wake up, even when i don’t want to. because, remember that one day, when you woke up at 4 am and tried to wake me up at 6? and i drove you away, and again when you tried to wake me up at 8. every morning, i think “i could’ve spent more time with him if only i’d woken up. if only i had opened my eyes and looked at his face while i still could. spoke to him while he was still breathing. hugged him and told him that i love him.” every morning, i wake up, because you didn’t. 

and now, here i am. you’re gone, and my whole world is just… hanging somewhere in the middle. the burden is too much for my shoulders without you here, and i can barely breathe.

i am here and you are not, and it’s all just too much for me.

Things NOT To Say To A Depressed/Suicidal Person (Trigger Warning)

If you are someone that has never experienced depression or suicidal thoughts, it may be a very foreign concept- something way beyond your comprehension that someone out there is thinking of ending their own life. I understand why you think this way- it is the one basic instinct each of us have instilled in us by default. The survival instinct. Each of our bodies, at this very moment, is doing everything it can to make sure we’re alive and breathing. 

I grew up with a bipolar father who used to get depressed often. I have seen him go from super happy to extremely sad in a matter of hours. As a child of merely 8 years, I never understood what in the world could be so terrible as to upset my father so much.

But, as I grew up, it became clearer to me. So clear, in fact, that I found myself slowly slipping into depression myself. It was like being caught in quicksand. 

And not until recently did I understand the plight of people who tried to take their lives or successfully did so. 

I am proud to say that I have dug my way out of that ditch, but it was not easy. 

And now, as I am recovering, I am quite open about my past problems. I find it is healthier to let people know rather than piling it all up.

You’d be surprised how many people have called me ‘selfish’ and ‘stupid’ for my attempts. 

Let me tell you this: if you have a friend or close one who is suicidal, and you want to help them get better, making them feel guilty about it is not the right approach. 

In fact, it is just about the worst thing you could say to them.

Never say, ‘you are selfish and stupid’. Never say, ‘think about your family, you’ll cause them pain’. Never say, ‘don’t be a coward’. 

No.

I am not stupid. I have weighed out my options. I have gone through this. Me. Not you. You do not get to decide if I’ve had enough or not- I do. This is my decision, my life. 

This is not a sudden, momentary decision that I have taken. This is not something that cropped up into my thoughts while I was dreaming last night. NO. 

I feel helpless. My behavior isn’t reasonable, but neither is depression. Even today, I don’t think I can come anywhere close to explaining how miserable I felt when I was depressed. 

The depression, paired with the anxiety, made me feel useless, helpless. My anxiety kept telling me I was worthless and my depression made me believe there was nothing I could do about it. Yes, it was all in my head. But every time someone told me I was being selfish or stupid or not thinking about my family, it made my feelings even stronger. I felt guilty, guilty about being self centered and cowardly- not the traits of a good human being. I was convinced I was a terribly worthless, good-for-nothing person who was too selfish and too much of a coward to live in this world surrounded by such beautiful things and amazing people.

And that is the problem with depression- it makes you believe that everything in this world is a flawless masterpiece and you’re a crooked mess of mishaps and inconveniences. 

I thought it would be easier to run away from my problems rather than facing them. I was a coward, yes. But I do not need to hear that.

I needed someone to tell me that it will all be fine. That everything would settle down while I could learn to be myself again. That I was worth the so-called inconveniences I caused, that I was a good enough person to be here. 

And that is what every depressed and suicidal person needs to hear. We do not need someone to tell us we’re stupid or that our families will suffer- these are things we already know. These are the things eating us up, driving us to the edge of the balcony and towards the sharp razors.

No, we need you to tell us what our depression has forced us to forget. 

We need someone to tell us that we, like everybody else, are human after all and make mistakes, no matter how often. 

We need someone to tell us that it’s okay to love ourselves, no matter how flawed. 

a letter to her love

they share secrets

as often as they share clothes

the whole world knows them as best friends

but she wants something more.

she has her telephone number memorized

just like her smile

and her favorite songs and shades of lipstick

and the color of her eyes.

these little things that others miss

are etched into her heart

currently on the top of her list of beautiful things

just waiting to pour apart.

and her laugh, oh her laugh

is as though drinking water after months of drought

she’s infinitely gorgeous and quirky

she really is something, it’s no doubt.

what a pity to not be able to come out with the truth

for her mind knows she doesn’t swing that way

and decided to set herself straight once

but her heart, a rebel like herself, led her astray.

and it breaks her a little everyday

that she is somehow worth enough

to be so heart achingly close
yet so far away from love.