There are times in my life when I want someone to talk to. You know like a real talk. Not a friend, not my boyfriend, not my mom, not anyone I know but someone else. I think I have been looking for this someone else for a long time. Ever since I finished college, when I felt clueless about my life, when I didn’t know what next, there was someone I was looking for. I can’t talk to people I know because they love me, they would never tell me what’s wrong with me, a certain subjectivity would always accompany their “talks” and I don’t want that.
Though my mother is my confidant, I can’t afford to worry her with my weird thoughts. My parents, they are simple people, the only thing they can do using a phone is a call (which originally a phone was supposed to do). They don’t understand Facebook, Instagram or Snapchat. They don’t get YOLO or FOMO. They don’t get my quarter life crisis. At my age my mother has had several miscarriages and finally a baby. She had no time or thoughts to deal with an identity crisis. So, they do what they think is right- which is to support me in whatever I wish to do. And I can’t ask them for more.
As for my boyfriend, he doesn’t really talk. You know like the real talk. He’s an introvert and it’s hard for him to express himself. He has a completely different personality than me. I mean we have a very similar lifestyle and same kind of dreams but we are different people. He’s a fulfilled, happy person while I am an insatiable wandering soul. He is calm like the sea while I am violent like a cyclone. He doesn’t get my obsession with finding my mojo or my streak of competitiveness. He does try but the talks with him are mostly monologues while all I want is a dialogue.
Kuch hum kahen, kuch wo sunayen,
Kuch baton se kuch or baat ban jayen…
So, there was a time in my life when I used to strike up conversations with strangers while travelling…in trains, in buses, while waiting at the airports. I liked that. Two people who don’t know each other discussing everything under the sun. I liked the notion of talking and never having to see each other again. It was like I left a part of my story with someone I would never meet again. And this was one of the reason I started this blog, to talk. Even here, I don’t get “dialogues” (except for a few comments) but whenever I write, I imagine someone is sitting in front of me, listening to everything I say. And you may find it hard to believe but by the end of a post, I feel relieved. In my mind I have had a conversation with myself. So when I don’t get that someone I want to talk to, I write.
I write to talk.
Why do you write?
Image from here.