Story Of An Overthinker In Love

What goes on in the mind of an over-thinker in love

Advertisements

I live my life inside my head. I often want to tell you everything that goes on in it, but can’t seem to find the right words. And even if I did, I won’t possibly know where to begin!

Sometimes I wonder if you’d even understand if I told you. I wonder what you’d think of me. Would you like me more? Would you hate me for it? Would you think of me as strange? See….now I’m overthinking! This is what happens most of the time. I want to tell you one thing, and my mind spirals into something else all-together.

I get distracted very easily. I like to look at the skies while walking. I would almost ALWAYS stop to admire a little puppy or a cat on the road. I would sometimes talk to the old beggar or the kid playing on the footpath. I would look at the vendors in the market and wonder what they do once they return home at night. Oh, and it’s a different ballgame altogether when I’m by the sea.

I like to take in as much of it as I can. The smell of fish, the feel of salt on my skin, the noise of waves crashing, the sticky breeze flowing through my hair, all of it stimulates my being. I can spend hours just being there, feeling it drip in, bit by bit.

But you know what? That’s me even otherwise. I’m hardly a passive bystander in life. I’m actively processing everything that’s going on around me. It might come as a surprise to you, considering how lost I look, but inside me- I’m alive with imagination.

That’s why I like to take my time while I’m outdoors. Actually wait, not just the outdoors. I hate to rush anything. Be it eating a meal, reading a book, talking to you or simply strolling in the park by myself. I like to take things slow. Relishing each and every moment. It’s as though my mind is constantly imprinting each and every detail, trying to make sense out of it all. Continuously weaving a story.

Amidst all this, I’m contemplating life. Sometimes death. In the middle of the night I have dark thoughts of losing people I love in some freak accident. It gets my heart thumping, I wake up all sweaty, trying to catch my breath. Other times, I imagine what would happen if I died. Would it matter to people at all? Would it make you cry for days? I wonder if I have had any impact on the lives of people I’ve met in my lifetime. I wonder if they remember me fondly. Are any of them thinking about me right now? Do they recollect their time spent with me with a smile on their faces? Do I have any haters? I bet I do. All those arguments on Facebook and Whatsapp groups ought to have made me some enemies.

Well I can’t really help it. I have opinions and I feel strongly about them. It’s either yes or a no, there’s no “maybe” in my dictionary. I can be completely detached and not even blink about things or people I don’t care about. I can be distant and cold hearted. I can be cruelly unemotional at times. But mostly I’m brimming with emotions. I’m raging with anger every morning when I read of corrupt politicians, I’m filled with empathy when I find old people shivering in the cold- begging for a meal, I’m amazed to see the stars shine bright through the polluted skies on a tiring monday evening, my eyes tear up when I listen to a song that I like, my heart skips a beat when I think of you.

Talking of you; I think of you every other minute. At times I feel so happy that you exist that I start sobbing. I imagine ways in which I can show you how much I love you. I want to call you right at that moment and tell you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to me. But I know I would be dumbstruck. That’s why I write to you. It helps me align my emotions with my mind. I often picture you smiling at me, or looking at your phone with your eyebrows furrowed as you read a mail from work. Sometimes I picture you gobbling down food or staring into space as your cigarette burns itself out. Other times I imagine you gently caressing my hair as we kiss. I imagine your warm body curled up against mine. I wonder what goes on in your mind when you look at me? I wish I could get inside your head and understand what is it that you love about me. What is it that you hate. What is it that you wish you could change about me. I wonder if you look at me and think about the same things. But sometimes I have this gripping fear of losing all this happiness somehow. What if I disappointed you? What if something terrible happens to you, or me? What if you contract amnesia and forget that I ever existed! Oh God, so many things that could go wrong! Do you know what do I do when that happens? I pray.

Surprised? Well, it’s because now I have so much at hand that I might lose! I pray that I always find my way to you, and you to me. I pray that we rise above our differences and remember what we love about each other when times get tough. I pray that we strive to understand each other. I pray that you’re always happy. I pray that you’re always surrounded by family and loved ones who genuinely care about you. But mostly, I ask the universe/God to help us grow with each other every day. I have only you to thank for all this praying and talking to the universe!

You’d say I worry too much. I’d say, yes, “I worry, I worry”, but that’s just how I am! But it’s not all that bad always. It’s just that my mind just works overtime. Imagining the infinite possibilities of life. Perpetually finding my space in each moment. Finding my purpose in the universal story. Collecting moments & memories from my everyday life in my head. And as an over-thinker I pride myself for it. For if not an over-thinker, I can’t possibly imagine what else I’d be. Or, can I?

Her.

She says she’s strong, but within she knows she’s not.
She’s broken, and mutilated and trampled upon.
But she rises from the ashes, and keeps going like nothing ever happened.
She takes the crowded local train everyday, and hates it.
But she does it anyway, because she wants to give her son a good education.
She paints her nails and lines her eyes. She glosses her lips but is never satisfied.
She does not have those Kim Kardashian curves, you see.
She complains about her 32 B and wishes she had a flat tummy.
She hates to wait for her pizza but has  a tower of patience for her boyfriend who never shows up for dinner.
She says she will change tomorrow.
That she will stop complaining and take charge.
But the next day never comes.
Once in a while she lets her hair down and goes dancing.
Tries to forget how pointless her life has been.
She takes one shot, and then another. Anything to fill that numb void within her.
Skipping from one job to another. As if, trying to find her purpose.
Building stories in her head, of how one day, she will travel the world.
How one day, everything will change.
Looking listlessly out the window, she looks at the street kids.
She looks at them laugh and tries to remember when was the last time she did the same.
She has no more memories of happiness. No recollection of peace.
She laughs forcefully but tears roll down her eyes.
The tears don’t stop and she continues laughing hysterically, like a mad woman.
She believes this is her life now.
She looks at her son’s shoes near the door, before she finally takes the final plunge.
The window was the only bliss she could find.
She has given up on her.
-SC
Isn’t it strange how familiar this sounds? In today’s “modern world the modern human is somewhat lost. They may be your everyday colleague, someone who you see with that serene face in your college or gym. They look absolutely fine, but somewhere deep within they’re not not.
In the past few months I’ve seen several women cry in public places. Some of them sobbed bitterly, some of them quietly unsuccessfully tried to hide the tears. The others just looked at them with judgmental eyes, I could see no mercy not even pity in them!
I usually go ahead and ask if they’re okay and they just reply with a sad smile. Sometimes with a thank you.
I could say the same about men. But according to the inhumane standards of the society, they are not even at a liberty to cry!
Today we are ensnared in this world where we have no one to turn to. We strut around boasting about the number of our facebook friends, but when we are by ourselves we feel empty. Lonely.
Is this the world we wished for ? A place where everyone is isolated. A place where trust and understanding do not exist anymore?

It’s all coming back …

“The hospital is a strange place . It’s a place where happiness and sadness co-exist . There is a continuous cycle of birth and death in action . Its a place that can turn an atheist into a disciple ,but at the same time, it can push someone to the limits of disowning their faith . Fate bought me to this strange place . I waited at the lobby with about 50 others for my turn . Each of us probably had the same hope in our hearts .The same eagerness to return home with our loved ones . I could see a man nervously fidgeting with his phone , two women who murmured and sighed occasionally and a child who cried incessantly in his mother’s arms . But inspite of all the commotion ; there was an unsaid silence , a disagreeable gloom over the place .There was an uneasy feeling running through all of our skins , and no matter what we did , we couldn’t shake it off .
And then all of a sudden I heard a loud thundering voice ,”Relatives of Rosily Palaian ? ” . The voice startled me ! Almost Picking myself up, I approached the half open door in front of me .
At first I desperately searched for a familiar face but couldn’t . After looking around for quite a while I found her .
Her eyes seemed that of a stranger’s . It was dull and lifeless and dazed with morphine . The Air conditioning was a little too cold for her comfort . She kept groaning and twisting about in her 6/4 bed in an unsuccessful attempt to get off it . I could barely recognise her . The ICU had turned her into a completely different person . Even from a distance I could clearly say that she was in pain . The hands that once pinned my hair in braids were now swollen nubs . Her lips seemed parched and dry and had cracks all over . She tried to call out my name but either she couldn’t recollect it, or she had no strength to do so . The infinite tubes and wires entangled around her like snakes .

I could barely stop the tears streaming down my eyes . I couldn’t imagine how she ever got here . To this place that resembled a nightmare . How could she become this person ?
She had forgotten who she was . I remember , her running around the house , busy with her errands . I remember how she loved to eat sweets even though her doctor had advised otherwise .
But the person I was seeing before me wasn’t her .
At that moment I realised that the person we were trying to save , was already lost . Even if she did get better , we could never recover her spirit . We could never recover HER”

This happened a week before my grandmother finally passed away . And a part of me was relieved to see her pain and agony finally end .
As ironic as irony could get , she died on her birthday . Her life had literally come around in a complete circle . She had suffered more than she deserved . Why ? I can’t say . But inspite of all the wounds that scarred her life she remained the meek and humble soul that she was . Now that I think about it , I can’t say she was talented or had an extraordinary personality . She spent most of her day in the kitchen .Didn’t have many friends to socialise with . Her family was all she had . We her children and grandchildren were the source of all her happiness . And that’s why it hurts so much to realise that she’s gone now . To know that no one else will love us like she did . Selfless and complete love . But I’d like to think she’s in a better place now . She can finally be at peace . She now has achieved ,the complete happiness and bliss that she always deserved .

-To a perfect wife , a doting mother and the most loving grandmother ,Roslin Palaian .
June 13, 1944- June 13 ,2016 .