Why am I an unsuitable candidate for a given position?

For as long as I can remember, I used to maintain a journal – noting down bits and pieces, now and then. Today, it has become more than difficult to even write a sentence. I often go back and question myself whether I am even capable of writing anything anymore – whether I ever was. I wonder why my friends want me to help them with their essays – especially, when corporates and schools easily shortlist theirs and mine get boxed in piles of rejects. How does one proceed when characters stop talking and fingers cannot move anymore? Paper parchments remain dry save for that blot of ink, which never really shaped any letters. My mind keeps questioning. And my heart, it keeps droning – it will come back, all of that talent that people praised me for and that one thing, I had one day, long ago thought, I was good for. Now, I judge my plot lines to be broken, characters to be shallow and sentences too long. How do I go on like this? Sorrow should inspire me to write, and joy should bring out the mirth in my stories. I can spin no more yarns, for they all end up in knots. Look how lazy I am. To bring accolades, I write about my laziness.

I have browsed through my Facebook feed, checked Whatsapp twice. Can anyone believe that it is after one am? I still expect people to be constantly going about their social media activities, while they should be sleeping. I do have all the excuses. How does one go on like this? So, I am an internet addict who does not post anything on social media but does keep checking all her accounts constantly.

In school, I was a devoted student, reading not just my text books but others as well. College converted me so much that all I read is random shizz on the internet. Newspapers, often remain unturned and classes unattended. Very few professors knew me by name and by the end of the final year I never even made the effort. Do you see how the tone of this piece (if we can call it that) has changed? I told you, after a point of being fruitless, I leave everything to nothing. Also, like I mentioned before – nobody hired me and nobody enrolled me.

Creativity is definitely not my forte and I have a difficult time wracking my brain to be original. If you want me to give you my introduction, I’ll probably tell you my name. And everybody knows how boring that is! And if you want to just talk, I have a few topics – weather, places to eat at and how to screw up conversations. See?

For example, I wanted to take up running. I did run between a few sport stores to find running shoes and then, zilch. I thought I would take up yoga – puked on the yoga mats three days into the program, and never saw the hall again. So, right now I cannot be called a fit person. I boast of ugly double chin, open pores on my dull skin and a paunch, which precedes me every time I enter a room.

Going ahead for me is like going two steps backward – every time. I do not want to edit and I definitely do not want to write. I want to sleep all day, roll on my bed, put my feet above my head, watch YouTube videos, not interact, eat chicken and prawns all day long, and did I say sleep? I am not editing this and I am not finishing this. Lazy, I told you so and the utter procrastinator!

A/N – This is to all the statement of purpose I have ever written and wondered what it would be like to write the opposite.

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Chronicles 1.0

Chronicles 1.0

There are times when you want to walk ahead and never look back. How does that happen, my dear readers? Is it even possible? Aren’t there always U-turns that entice us – away from a beautiful place? We do turn around, don’t we? And then, inevitably there is the moment when we look back. What do you expect to do then? Find somebody there waiting for you to come back or an empty spot and a false hope.

In the nineteen years that this chronicler has spent on this earth, she has never stayed long in one place. Moving around has taught her that more than the people who stay in your life – there are those who do not. This has made her anxious and cautious. She does not make friends easily and those that she converses and talks to on a regular basis, she becomes a tad-bit possessive about. More than once, she has said stupid statements – unbecoming and indignant of her and the person that she is. They have always been hurtful and unforgivable words, like the bullet of the sniper – always aiming for the kill.

Friendships have died and withered away in the process. It is difficult to deny the reason and make excuses. How do we ignore the veracity of life, which stares you in the face? Ironic, how you forget so many and it hurts not a bit. Of all the promises, the ones which say that we shall stay together forever are the ones which are false.

Life happens – one forgets and shall always, keep on forgetting. We fight to hold on and then, you fight to let go. In the end, either you win or lose – you lose a piece of yourself for sure.

From An Impatient Girl.

Dear Life,

I have been writing letters all the journey along. I have shredded most of them and then, put them into dustbins and some I have kept as a reference for the final draft. I do hope this is it. Otherwise my already non-existent mane of hair will be in shreds.

I am sixteen and eleven months old. As a typical teenager, I have a box of complaints for you. It outweighs the box of chocolates which is supposed to be a reward. I cannot gather which one to present you first. I have a list of wishes like a small child. I am ready to break my growing wisdom-tooth and keep it under my pillow, if only there was a tooth fairy! I am still a child, aren’t I?

I haven’t even covered half of the journey yet. There is no shortcut to growing up – even if there is I don’t wanna know it. Though sometimes I do wish, I’d go to sleep and wake up just to find that some massive thingy which is equivalent to a tempest is over. Truly, however, I do not want to take short cuts. Period! I want to see it all. I want to laugh – you know, that booming laughter, a fancy, a pleasure and nobody questions its ring of truth, not even me. For a short moment – a minuscule while, I wouldn’t mind crying. Tears are only human and I am a mere mortal.

Don’t ask me to compromise. Not that I will not. I will give up anything to please you. However, I shall not be pleased. I am not a selfless person. I am selfish and I admit that it will remain that all along. Merely mortal! I like to have an upper hand and a say in all matters. Don’t treat me like a pretty doll with no mind and just a twenty-four inch waist line to flaunt. If you tell me I am an important person for you. I want it proven, marked, checked and verified on your ‘priorities list.’

I am a human and more importantly, a girl. Do not expect no jealousy or insecurity on my part. I would like to be flattered a little – appeased a lot. One day, I’d like to fall in love and want that love to be returned. Yes, I am shallow and I am naïve. But aren’t little girls supposed to be just that?

I want to travel and see the world – not just the Eiffel tower but also the little bistros. I want to watch the sun going down in Kanyakumari and the canals of Venice. I want the trinklets of Himachal and the chocolates in Switzerland. I would like to visit a private island someday and spend unimaginable amount of money on shoes, bags and dresses.

 

I want it now and not when I am old enough to be a granny. I’d like to see it myself and flaunt it, brag it! Do you care enough to tell me if the dreams I weave are going to shatter – the beads falling one by one and rolling away.

I want to know all about you. I expect so much from you, L! What do you think of me? I’d love to know you – more than a pen friend and much more than a stranger. You’re me but I’m not you. Tell me, how?

 

Sincerely,

An Impatient Girl, forever!

 

 

A/N – Sometimes, your journal gives you stuff which you never thought you could right. This is one of it. It’s a rambling – and an effort to return to writing.

 

Love,

Deeksha