Sometimes, I find myself in the weirdest of moods. It happens rarely before you begin to think I’m a mad person. Anyway, I got into one few weeks back and I ended up writing this. I’ve read it so many times and I honestly don’t get what it is about (No, I was not possessed) I’m sure it’ll make sense to someone somewhere so lemme just drop it here for whoever it is.
It’s just who you are; who we are.
People always want to know what’s going on. It’s not entirely true. Most of the time, they ask to start a conversation; that’s how most conversations begin anyway. They ask questions; what’s up? How are you? What’s going on? You good? And you, like it’s a fixed thing, reply ‘I’m fine’ ‘Not much’ ‘I’m good’…
It’s not the truth. Many a times, you’re not close to being fine. But there’s this kind of fear; this fear of being seen as stupid cos you don’t know what they would think about how you truly feel at the time, the fear of confiding in another person, the fear of being seen as depressed, the fear of opening up to someone else. You find it difficult; difficult to let people know how you feel, or who you truly are. It’s not your fault; it’s just how people are. They make it hard for you to trust them. They are quick to judge too. And so you find yourself, hiding behind a fake smile, or a screen sometimes.
They don’t need to know. But sometimes you want them to know; need them to know. No. they probably won’t understand. Or you don’t know how to communicate your feelings through words.
It’s not that complicated. Or is it?
I like solitude, she said. Okay that’s sounds a little scary but I mean it, a little. I find peace in being alone. But it’s just the way the world is set up. I almost don’t like people. Of course I do, but then I don’t. Besides, when I try to ‘open up’, nobody understands me. They think I’m too deep. I like myself; I like you.
Haha, why always flirt? And you sound like a loner. But I think I know how you feel. I feel the same way sometimes. Piper asked me how I was the other day but I didn’t know how to explain. It’s like when you’re playing FIFA, against a total learner. A lot of people are watching. You’re dominating, eighty nine percent possession, thirty four shots, but no goal. And then from nowhere, you concede a late goal, literally the last kick of the game, and you lose. It’s a shit feeling; a feeling that can’t be explained; a messed up feeling. That’s how I felt. But I wasn’t sure how to tell her. She might think I’m stupid if I told her it was the late goal feeling. She probably doesn’t know what that is.
We can enjoy solitude together, she said. (And in my opinion, your late goal description of how you were feeling is multiple shades of messed up)
But that’s impossible. It goes against what solitude means. (And that’s the best way to describe how I felt at the time)
I don’t care, she said. We can redefine it. You seem to understand me, but you also don’t. It’s like being the black egg in a room full of white ones.
Huh? I thought we were talking about something else. But I like the topic of fitting in. It’s a general struggle.
I know right, she said. They want me to be like them. I want to but I can’t. I want to wear the best clothes and be famous like they are but I can’t. I really want to but I…
*I could feel it. She was trying hard to hold back the tears. I didn’t know what to say. Thank God she saved me*
I have to go now, she said. Mum needs me in the kitchen.
You forgot the three dots, so I’ll know the conversation is not over.
I didn’t. I wasn’t ending there. Besides, I always lie, she said.
‘I always lie’? But, that is a paradox because if it is true it must be false.
Ode, she said