I have a lot to say today. And I feel at peace with myself today.

I don't want to let myself go to bed, because I know I won't wake up feeling like this.

You might say, you might wake up feeling the same, you never know.

But I do know, I won't.

kbye now

What's the point?

All this has made feel pointless. I have to admit it's a strange feeling, but I can't honestly say it's a bad one.
Sometimes it's good not to have a point. It takes the weight of proving things and being what is expected of you off your shoulders.
That reminds me of this observation I made of humans and expectations. 

Invisible?

So, back to invisible. What I have learnt to do from my fake phase is to switch my mind off. This is a brilliant thing to be able to do because my mind can be a really annoying bitch that just won't shut up about things I honestly don't care about. I haven't mastered this skill yet.

When I say I shut my mind, I mean I manage to make myself stop thinking, and I just feel. I see what's around, I'll hear what you're saying, I'll feel what I'm touching and I'll absorb everything but I won't analyse it, I'll just let. it. be.

Letting things be is something we humans, as a species, seem to be VERY bad at.

When I'm letting things be I often find myself melting into the background, voluntarily, but the extent to which I feel like I'm not there is scary, so I snap back to reality (that just made me sing an eminem verse in my head :/)

I'm pretty sure thought, that if I let myself go completely. And if let myself feel like I am not, that you, sitting next to me, would also believe that I am not. And therefore I will not be. Lo and behold I'd be invisible, or alternatively, I'd stop existing. 

Scary. 

But exciting. 

To keep in keeping with the blogging in bursts, I have another post!
Before or after noticing the writer+phase thing, I came up with another theory. I think I know how to become invisible.
So, I have been realising (yes, again) that I don't like who I was at 15. I'm not even sure who I was at 15. But, I definitely wasn't me. I was, and I hate saying it, a faker. I did what I did because others did. I said what I said because others did. I tried thinking what I thought because others did. I wanted to be others, and I tried very hard.
I wanted to be others because I am not others. My very background makes me unlike the others. And then I had to go about thinking the strange stuff that I do. I am weird and I know it. But I'm not even the popular kind of weird. I'm not that outrageous friend of yours who does all the stuff you'd never dare, I am in someways, but that's not what makes me weird. This used to trouble me.
I kept it up for a few months. Dated one of guy for a month.It took dating him and then him breaking up with me to realise how I was trying to kid myself. I still don't know how to break up with a person :/ So instead I make myself be everything the person dislikes and make him break up with me and everyone leaves happy.
Now I just be me, I will say the strangest of things, if you put up with me and listen to what I say, even if you don't remember most of it (heck I don't remember most of the things I say) I like you and we can be friends. If you don't I'm afraid you're missing out :)
I'm sure you've noticed how much I deviate from the topic.
I'll get back to the invisible part, I promise.;
But for now, know that I don't fake anymore, and I feel like me. This is a happy feeling :)

Here I am :)
I realise that I blog in bursts.
I have also realised, while reading, that sometimes you come across the same phrase a few times at very short intervals in a book. And you wonder why the author felt a sudden affection to that particular phrase and what was happening to him/her when they were writing that part of the book.
For example, I've been using to realise a lot right now because I've been, well, realising!

Today I thought of aliens, and how we manage to stereotype what is fundamentally as the unknown. Which then made me think of colours and a heightened sense of touch. Which then led to me thinking about smell. I have this theory about smells which I voiced during this imaginary encounter. The next thing I new I was thinking about eyes and our sense of vision. 

I then realised why I was better at writing in French than in English. 

It's because when writing in English, my mind thinks much faster than my hand can cope. And I end up making no sense at all. But while writing in French the speed of my hand matches that of my mind. So it's works well and makes me happy. 

It made me wonder why the same logic doesn't apply to me writing in Marathi or Hindi. Then I realised that it's because then my hand works too slow seeing as I'm more accustomed to writing in the roman script than in the devanagri script. 

It made me remember why I generally speak out what I think rather than write it. Then I remembered I have a  blog where I can type utter bullshit 8|

Thinking and I

So, tonight I'm in one of those strange moods where you feel completely and utterly like yourself.
Before getting to this feeling I went through about an hour of incessant thought. I've noticed that when I think I tend to think of myself talking to someone. So, in my mind I have to create a situation where I would end up saying what I think to someone. All these situations are ones that are possible. Like today, I imagined myself with a group of friends walking down carter road where we stumble upon a friend of mine and his girlfriend. And he and I start talking, where I do all the talking because of course it's me doing all the thinking.
This is a person I would actually say all the things I thought of to.

Have you ever needed to pee so bad that when you do, you would swear it is the best feeling ever?
I have

Not really

Hahahaha
I realise how completely depressed I sound in all my other posts.
But I actually live a pretty good life.
I have lots of friends that love me. A family I care about. A pretty wonderful boyfriend.
Parents who can afford to send me to university without needing an education loan.
But like all other teenagers I sometimes like to believe that my life is the epitome of all tragedies.
Basically, I'm like the rest of you.

Do I know?

Ever since I was five, He's been telling me I'm a disgrace. He's been telling me I'm a waste of space. He's been telling me how He's ashamed of saying He's related to me. He's told me how the only reason He puts up with me is because I'm His son's daughter. He's told me how that's the only reason He even looks at me twice.

Thirteen years and I still don't know what it is about me that He can't stand. 

I tried doing everything possible.

I tried talking to Him. I tried making Him interested in my life. I tried being interested in His.

I achieved what seemed to matter to him most; academic excellence.

He holds creativity workshops, so I made things, lots of things. I invented a working lego gun. I painted and painted and drew and drew. I wrote. 

He is a scientist. I experimented with anything and everything I could think of. I was curious about things.

I tried finding something we were both passionate about. Something that would connect us.

I tried.

But now, He treats me like a disease. He never talks to me. When I pass by Him, He flinches. I just made things worse.

I can't talk to anyone about it.

Basically, I'm leaving in two months, and with me any chance of salvaging our relationship will leave too and I don't know what to do.

Noone.

I keep finding myself in catch 22 situations. Situations that I put myself in because of my own inhibitions.
I want to confide in someone. I want to tell them how I worry that he doesn't like me anymore. I want to whine about him not replying to my texts and not calling me. I want to ask him why it seems like he doesn't like me anymore. I want to tell my best friend that I think he doesn't like me as much as he did before. (Yes, I have very average teenage woes.) But I won't. Ever.
Why you ask?
What if when I let anyone know that I worry that he doesn't like me anymore, that they suddenly realise they don't like me either? What if when I confront him it turns out that it really is only because he was busy and that he did still like me but now that I mention it he realises that he doesn't? What if that's when it happens? What if that's when everyone suddenly realises they don't actually like me and that they were all just delusional? And the worst part of all, I would have brought it upon myself.
Almost everyone I meet seems to like me. So, I keep waiting for the day when the world suddenly sees what He has seen in me for the past thirteen years. What He saw in me right from the beginning. I keep waiting for the day when everyone dislikes me like He does. And I am afraid that I'll be left out of the loop. I'm afraid that noone will even bother telling me what is wrong with me in the first place. What makes Him dislike me so much?
Basically, the question is, what is wrong with me?

Why can't I be a normal 18 year old and just crib to my best friend about my boyfriend's sudden (and my rational self tells me harmless) apparent lack of interest and then get over it?

Fear

So, I'm only doing this because this blog is anonymous. If I find out it's not I'm deleting this. Let me just say, I don't have a word processor on my laptop, and I don't trust writing on paper. Hence the anonymous blog. :)
I've always preferred saying things out loud, because then the words vanish. There's never any proof of them. You can never prove that the words were said at a particular time in a particular place by anybody. This was true only before the invention of voice recording. But it's okay because sound recording isn't all the time.
The problem with writing things down is that once it's written, it's permanent. It'll always be there. For everyone to see. Always.
I believe that whatever you write, however random you may think it is, is like a mini portal into your soul. It's like you're giving whoever reads it a chance to look right into you. A chance to know every little thing about you. You're letting yourself be exposed.
That scares me. I don't like people knowing what I'm thinking. I don't like people knowing what I feel. I don't like people knowing what can break me. I don't like being vulnerable. Period.
Basically, my biggest fear : Vulnerability.

It's kind of ironic, my fear keeps me from letting people know the very basic fact that I HAVE a fear.