Let’s just say that 2020 was not a year to take a major decision in life. But your girl here did exactly that and the rest is as marvellous as this year has been. While the world went into a lockdown around march, the loser writing this shit isolated herself in January. What can I say, I’ve a knack for screwing up things in an already screwed up world.
Today is not a good day. I’ve spent it in bouts of severe anxiety, hopelessness and panic. I can’t seem to imagine a scenario where things work out for me. Not today, not tomorrow, next month, year or any other measure of time. If you have been reading this blog since a long time, you would say that this has been my life for ever. Like when was I happy about anything. I have always been a cry baby. Well you see, blogging for me has been an anti social media platform. While social media facilitates you to share all the good moments of your life: the trip to a Scandanavian country, your wedding pictures, the first video of your child walking, blah blah, this blog here is the graveyard of my broken dreams. It doesnt help that none of the above mentioned things have happened in my life. I’ve not even been to Jhumritallaiya, forget north Germany.
For years now, I’ve been waiting for my happy ending. Not that I want to die, but you know some kind of a junction, a station from where I could move ahead. But for some reason beyond my understanding, nothing good is actually happening. And while this has been a good way for God/ destiny to keep me on my toes, I am just tired of this shit. Like, I don’t even want to pass these societal goalposts. I’ve no dreams of getting married and having babies. (Yuck) I’ve literally zero material aspirations. I am this close to becoming a monk, like really very very close. But something, something should happen in my life. I should find a way right. Why am I just going round and round. And this rant is not to say that I am sad. Surprisingly, I am not. Except for these bouts of anxiety that creep up sometims. And this fucking hopelessness.
I think, I am just too comfortable in my misery. Like, I am romanticising failure. I am not sad, but I am frustrated. And I hate this. I hate it that I’ve failed so many times that failure is the only scenario I look forward to. Whenever I am planning something, I don’t plan to succeed, I plan for backups, I visualise failure. All I think about is, what if even this doesn’t work out. I am so used to failure that no amount of effort feels enough and then I just stop trying and I am tired of this shit, you know. I am tired of me. I am tired of being a sob story.
They say everything happens for a reason. I can’t find the reason for everything that has been happening to me for almost more than a decade now. I might have been incompetent, unstable, crazy but I should have got a way right. I, of all people, know that however bad things might be, they can always get worse. But, till when? I am not ungrateful or dismissive of my privilege but I really want to end this misery. I know life can’t be without problems, but at least give me new problems bro. Change the syllabus, please!!!