A place where I share my deepest darkest thoughts!

(Written in or before 1999)

I woke up in the morning with cold sweat running down my face. I had just had the worst dream of my life. The nightmare should have been a pleasant dream because in it I got exactly what I had been asking God for since the day my two best friends (also my cousins) died. I had been asking for death as a form of relief from the pain and anguish that I was feeling.

In my wish the aspect I had not taken into consideration was what would happen to the people who loved me after I died and that was exactly what I saw in my dream. It hurt like like hell to see all the people I loved crying over my dead body and this helped me see how selfish I was being in asking for death which God hadn’t given me in the six years since that fateful day in my friends’ lives.

That very evening I met my Creator through a fatal breakdown. God wasn’t giving me what I wanted to I decided to take it and not ask for it. I committed suicide knowing what would happen to my loved ones after I died. I acted like a selfish brat and got punished for it. I went straight to hell but before that I was made to go through a greater hell.

God showed me how my rash action had hurt my loved ones and led them to suffer. It was worse than hell to see the anguish on the faces of all the people who loved me and who I loved. If I was scared of my nightmare, I was going insane seeing it come true.

I was sick of life. Sick of people I loved leaving me or breaking my trust. The chain started with the death of my cousins. Then my best friend from school broke my trust. Then my next best friend lost her trust in me. My cousins were mean to me (some of them openly criticized me, called me a loser and ignored me). I ignored all of this as well and forgave these people but I never forgot and these things always played in my mind over and over again.

Then came the last straw, I saw my boyfriend who I trusted more than anyone else in the world on a date with his ex-girlfriend. That’s when I decided that I had no right to live. I swallowed 30 tablets of Valium. Now no one could break my trust or me.

My mother found my body an hour later and fainted on the spot. My father was completely shocked. He wanted to rush me to the hospital, hoping that maybe I would come back to life. My brother had more sense. He called all my relatives, put my mother to bed and tried to soothe my father, only he was in too much of a shock to be able to soothe anyone.

Then I saw my relatives arrive one by one. Then came the friends. All of them were really astonished. They all thought me to be an exceptionally cheerful and non-serious person. They all believed me to be totally in control of my life. The news of my suicide came as a real shock to everyone.

No one knew what led me to take this decision of ending my life. Not even my friends. They were people who used to be surprise if I as much as cried in front of them. They believed me to be so happy a person that they thought I didn’t even know how to cry. My friends used to come to me in times of pain, trouble and problems. It almost never happened vice versa unless I was having some problems with my teachers. Even though I wasn’t too open with them, I loved them dearly and really cherished their friendship. To see them cry because of me caused me more grief than I had ever felt in my entire 17 years of life.

Seeing my family in torment due to my irrational behavior caused me more pain that a knife would probably cause stabbing me over and over again. When my eldest brother got the news of my death the anguish I was made to see on his face made me feel thoroughly disgusted with myself. I knew how much he loved me. I started to hate myself even more. He would not even get to see my face.

I was the youngest of three children and the only daughter and I had made my house a living hell for my family members. Everyone of my family members, cousins and friends blamed themselves for my death even though most of these people were totally innocent of this crime. They had no right to feel guilty over my selfishness.

That was the last thought I had. God showed me some mercy and made me see only the things that happened on the day I died and not the second day and third day and so on. I was grateful for that because I knew through experience that time does not really heal wounds. It’s quite the opposite really. As time passes we suffer more and more. The scars do remain forever and so does the pain and anguish.

Written on 11/10/2000

As per the title I am a compulsive talker. I like to communicate with people. Most of the time the person I am talking to is laughing at the outrageous anecdotes and punch lines I literally spurt. Some people say that no one could ever get bored in my company. I on the other hand would not go as far as to agree with them. I am actually a compulsive talker and tend to say things without thinking. I say the first thing that comes to my mind. I end up saying things that most people are thinking but would die before saying aloud.

I guess as the youngest child I have always had protection. I have lived in a protective environment my entire life. I have inherited my sense of humor from my father and have learned to apply it from my elder brother. As for bending, twisting and mutilating it, I managed to do that all by myself. I admit that as people say I am quite naive and gullible. I tend to think that everyone is as accommodating as I am. My friends who are aware of my naivety accept my flaws and me as it is but that also after knowing me for at least a year. Well at this point in my life where I have reached the age of maturity and sophistication (which by the way is 18) I now realize that I need to learn to keep my opinions to myself.

The effect of this attribute of mine on my life has been drastic. I have hurt many people and I have lost many friends who I loved dearly because of this attribute of mine. I now realize that not all people can take a joke as a joke. I also know that once spoken words can never be taken back. I have actually lost count of the people I have probably hurt or angered by my compulsive talking. I guess this article is a way of appealing to their sense of forgiveness or rather it is a plea. All those of you out there who I might have hurt in any possible way, I am sorry and I sincerely hope that you will find in your hearts that you forgive me.

Who you are, makes a difference
(Written on December 25, 2007)

When I first read this line I liked it a lot because it struck out at me as being meaningful. I saved it in my collection of quotations. Looking at it now it doesn’t make all that much sense anymore. What you ask is the reason for this change of thought? The reason is that I heard a lecture and it said that a person should know his/her own self. I realized at that moment that I don’t know who I am. What defines me as a person? Who am I?

I sat down and tried to see myself as someone else would. Needless to say I drew a blank. It’s so easy to read and analyze other people. I could probably write character sketches of other people I know and I have done that but when it comes to me I realized that I don’t know myself. Am I the person my Orkut testimonials say I am? Not really. They all more or less the same nice things; can’t really expect people to say bad things about you and your personality to you on your face. So those were ruled out.

I don’t think that a person’s education, career or family back ground, are what or rather who a person is. It matters to some extent but does not really define them. Educated people can act like hooligans, CEOs can be crass as well and people with great backgrounds can also be character less. So then who am I?

Another thought that struck me then is do other people know who they are? Are we able to understand ourselves and bear with ourselves as people? I heard another lecture which stated quite matter of factly that a lot of people cant bear to be with themselves for a while and get to know themselves and reflect on who and what they are without getting disquieted. Is that why most people these days need to smoke, drink, do drugs or listen to music, just to escape reality? Opium the biggest escape from reality? Are we as a nation or even individuals facing a feeling of lost identity? Are we running from reality or ourselves?

We are so busy meeting and living up to expectations of others that somewhere along the line we lose ourselves and who we are. We are so busy meeting norms and traditions which have been ingrained into us that we can no longer think for ourselves. The result; we end up in extremes. The totally religious faction is there to run from worldly life, the moderates who are just living life as it comes their way without questioning the norms and then the so called norm challengers who break tradition not because they think its wrong or because they have an ideology but rather just so that they can show a streak of mostly misplaced rebellion. As the world becomes more and more artificial we become more and more lost in a labyrinth to which there is no end.

We as individuals and a nation are facing a loss of identity and the only way we can get it back is to understand who we are and what we want for ourselves in life. The question that now comes to my mind is how? How do we understand and figure out who we are? Do we need to reflect and sit in solitude and design ourselves? Do we need to tell ourselves who we are and then be what we think we should be? That’s going to be hard too I guess. For now it seems I will have to wait and see if I can come up with a way to know myself. Any suggestions?