Musings by the sea..

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The view was mesmerizing. Almost felt as though, the waves grew hands and grabbed one’s attention refusing to let go. It was one of those moments that made you aware of the intimate relationship that bliss and sadness share – when beauty makes you sad.

Something as beautiful as that, makes you realize how alone you actually are. It makes you sad because you can’t spend the rest of your life staring at it. It makes you sad because there is just so much beauty that, you cannot possibly contain all of it alone. This is the kind that needs to be shared.

It felt like being at the right place with the wrong people. When every inch of your being craves for meaning. When you wish for every word uttered into the air to resonate with nothing but honesty, for every ring of laughter to be filled with nothing but joy and for every glance that ever falls on another to be drenched in nothing but love. When it feels like you’re the only one feeling all of these things, it makes you terribly sad.

But most of all I think it makes you sad because you come to realize you belong to the sea, the wind and everything else that could never speak, more than you will ever belong amidst these strangers around you.

Rising from the ruins..

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Does anything at all possess a character of its own? What if qualities are not inherent entities? Maybe they only come into existence when they are perceived to exist. We are all of the notion that people and things carry within themselves a concrete set of characteristics. It is thought that no object can be viewed as the object is, but only as the viewer is. In line with that perspective, a person is neither the image we create in our mind nor the image they create in theirs. We consider these to be mere interpretations that lie far from the reality.

But the real question is: Does reality, in this case the authentic image of the person, exist at all? Is there an actual “truth”? Do the concrete set of characteristics exist or are those too merely ideas conjured by our minds? There could be nothing such as “what they actually are”. Could it be that only our perceptions of an object’s qualities exist and not the qualities themselves? Maybe nothing holds any meaning until we create one and give it to something.

Is that how it is with life? It holds no real meaning by itself. There is nothing that you “need” to do in life. Everything that we ever hear, the “should”s and the “should not”s are all man-made. Society and societal roles are but constructs created over the centuries by human beings like you and me. Predefined purposes do not exist. The purpose of your life becomes whatever you define it to be. And you realize that, Life itself is amorphous, assuming any form that you want it to take.

Somehow we fail to see the abundance of freedom available for our utilization. Nothing needs to be dictated by the society. You can create your own structure and the functions that you operate on. You can pick  the values that you build your life around. You can choose the anchor that supports you or you can choose to not have an anchor at all. Anything and everything is possible!

Most opt to blindly adhere to religion and other pre-existing paths without questioning their credibility. The reason being, it is that much more difficult to decide for yourself, how you want your life to be and what you want to do with it. It requires immense strength to take hold of the reins and steer your life towards whichever direction you want to take it to.  Because that would mean taking responsibility for your choices and actions, especially when everything comes crashing down. Instead, most find it easier to give up all control and make anything but themselves, (read: supernatural forces), responsible for their life events. They refuse to even acknowledge the question, the possibility of flaws in the existing societal structure. They continue sleepwalking through life, deluding themselves into thinking that certain obligations exist. Eyes closed with obstinate determination, they end up repeatedly doing things simply because they are comfortable to do so.

The others who refuse to be blinded by the absurdity of it all, suffer the worst. Some of us search our whole lives hoping to chance upon the answer to life, without discovering it. Or maybe the answer itself is in understanding that there is no answer. Maybe objectivity is just a tool we created to support us and keep us grounded. Even right and wrong becomes subjective. And nothing is absolute.

This awareness is accompanied by a sense of loss. You throw away all the beliefs that acted as your crutches. You lose balance. You fall further and further without anything to hold onto. The life that you had built disintegrates, piece by piece, until nothing remains. And once it has all been destroyed, there is peace. The initial emptiness transitions into a new-found liberation. You can fill the vast empty canvas with anything you desire. In the end, it isn’t going to matter anyway, because nothing is significant. And instead of it making you feel apathetic towards life, it finally sets you free.

 

 

Tunnel vision..

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Each one of us has an anchor. An idea that keeps us grounded, amidst the madness we live in. The one thing that we turn back to when all else fails to make sense. Survival would be close to impossible without one.

Our circumstances and experiences chisel every edge of this anchor. Whether or not it exists merely in our minds becomes irrelevant. We are ready to overlook the fact that we base our whole life upon postulates of an arbitrary nature. And concepts that are, if you actually think about it, nothing but unprovable convenient assumptions.

Love, God, Religion, Karma, and all other philosophical ideas fall under this category of anchors. There is a huge possibility that these are just illusions. We intentionally delude ourselves into thinking they are real. There exists within each one of us, an inexplicable urge to mindlessly believe in something. A need, to pour all of ourselves into an abstract concept, to keep us whole.

To believe in what seems appealing will always be easier than to face the uncomfortable truth. The truth that we just live in a chaos where nothing makes sense. Our struggles, pain, happiness, success, hold no real meaning. Our ego would never allow the thought that we might be just a blip. A tiny inconsequential occurrence. We want our actions to be of some significance. So we pick up all that’s visible to our limited vision and knit our own theories. We tell ourselves that we need to work hard and go places. We go one step further and lie to ourselves that the world needs us and that we need to change the world and its ways. But we don’t have the courage to ask ourselves, “What is the point?”. We are born, we live, we die. When we cease to exist, we stop mattering to the world. There might be no purpose behind human life. But this again is just another theory without evidence. A hypothesis. For some, unknowingly this become their anchor.

Some questions will never find the answers. Some conundrums will remain unsolved mysteries. The thing is, we all know that we’d probably never find this universal truth that we’re searching for. Even if we discover something that we claim to be the truth, we would never be able to back it up with sufficient evidence. Any sign of understanding the laws that govern this world is purely an illusion. Our human perception is too limited to see the whole picture, if such a thing even exists. Maybe, the only truth is that nothing is true. Could it be that, everything that we believe to be objective and rational, all the inferences that humanity has drawn so far, are colored by our skewed vision of reality? The gap between “what is” and “what we see it to be” is probably too huge. Our vision is a distorted one. And yet we go on, hoping to understand this mess of a life. Maybe if everything was on display, it would no more be of any interest for us to continue living. For some of us, it is the enigma of life that keeps us alive. We keep walking, silently observing and taking in as much as our minds can contain, questioning and wondering. And this becomes our anchor – speculations that give rise to the question “Why?”.

Out of place..

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I stand on the other side, my hands pressed to the glass wall, watching them go about their lives. They move around with such grace. They laugh and converse with such ease. It seems like the most natural thing in the world. I observe, and on the good days I try to learn. After all, that too is a skill. Sometimes I mimic them and get it right. And sometimes they don’t hear me from here. I lose all eagerness to be a part of anything. It becomes too complicated to grasp – the rules that govern their interactions. These are the days I move further away from the wall that divides me and the rest of the world. I keep walking, allowing the distance to grow with each step, until I reach the point of safety – until I’m certain that my frustrated screams will not travel over to the other side.

Solitude tastes sweet when it is a choice. Most days, I allow the silence to wash over me, like waves that take away all the dust from the daily meaningless interactions with the world. It calms my frazzled nerves that dance all day. But then, times like these make me question myself. The line between solitude and loneliness blurs. And sometimes solitude feels like a self-imposed isolation from other human beings. Like an excuse for my shortcomings.

A yearning takes hold of me. How amazing it must feel to be able to walk into a room and just talk – to begin a conversation without the fear of having to ransack your brain for appropriate things to say. When such thoughts flutter through my mind, I simply smile and at times laugh, because I fear that if I don’t, the tears that I’ve managed to hide for so long would finally find their way out and there would be no stopping them. It pains to not be heard, to not be seen for who you are. A sort of familiar sadness sets in at the thought that a part of me will always remain hidden from the world’s view.

But along with that sadness exists a relief. I came to realize that deep down, I cherish this too in a strange way. Knowing that your thoughts are unknown to the people around you gives you a sense of control. You get to choose what to reveal and what to keep to yourself. At times people think that they’ve got you all figured out. On such occasions, you hear a voice, from the darkest corners of your mind, let out a scornful laugh. In a sad way, to gloat at their ignorance of who you are compensates for the feeling of inadequacy that haunts you.

Although this is one of the reasons for the relief, it goes beyond this insignificant pleasure you derive out of it. The relief rises from the fear that is rooted deep within. With experience, we learn that people are never careful with the things we share. Despite their promises and reassuring words, they end up breaking every little thing you trust them with. We realize that what we do not let in, cannot destroy us. Those who don’t know us, cannot use their knowledge of who we are, against us. The walls that we build, stand for a reason. Anything that carries with it the risk of damage demands to be protected.

In the battlefield of war, the armour safeguards the fragile mortal body from injury. Similarly, in the battlefield of life, our inscrutable nature safeguards us from destruction. Our biggest strength lies in the fact that we see without being seen. Being invisible becomes a gift when used strategically. It helps us slip past a lot of potentially damaging human beings, unnoticed and unscathed. We need to stop seeing our impenetrable nature as a liability. Capitalize on this seemingly disadvantageous “weakness” of yours. Because vulnerability needs opaque screens to keep the predators out.

As we continue to build walls around us, higher and higher, let us not forget the gates. Without one, we would be a lot safer – for no one can enter easily, but we cannot leave either. We would only be trapped within the enclosure of our own fears and insecurities. The very air we breathe will suffocate us and cause our death. We should never let our need for security turn into paranoia.

Our high walls might not drawn in many visitors. But for some of us, it is never about the numbers. It is never about scratching the surfaces of many. It is about delving into the depths of a few. It has always been about the few and their willingness to step into the unknown and draw us out of our confinement. To help us trust just one more time. To help us believe that not everyone is out to get us. To help us see that there exists a world on this side of the glass wall too. One that is filled with those of us who don’t belong – the outsiders.

Someplace safe..

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Are you disoriented too? Stumbling in absolute darkness as you walk through unfamiliar roads, desperately hoping for them to lead you somewhere known. You’re exhausted, it’s been a long day, a long life, and you don’t see any beacon of light in the vicinity. You wearily go through every inch of the map but still stand there lost. Because sometimes, its more a feeling than a place, this thing called home.

Four walls that hold a roof above the people you’re related to. Yes, such a place could be called a home. Sometimes it’s just a giant box filled with memories of yesteryear. But home is more than just an entity constructed out of bricks. It stretches beyond the physical realm. It is intangible, but real nonetheless.

It is the slow radiating light that dispels all the shadows that has ever touched upon your life. The gentle warm fingers that’ll pry you away from the tight grip of cold loneliness.  Often, it is found momentarily. In a pair of eyes that gently look with no trace of judgment. In a smile that quietly whispers that it understands. Once in a while, home is experienced in the few seconds that a warm hug lasts, making you feel protected from all things in the world that could possibly hurt.

Home is any place where all that you are, is welcomed with open arms. Where you are not required to shrink yourself to fit. You don’t have to hide your ugliness under layers and layers of pretend perfection. Where constant vigilance is not needed and you are free to drop the fear and remove the mask. Your mistakes and accidental words will not be held against you. And your flaws will not be reiterated until they’re impressed upon the ridges of your brain. Where you’d no more be a burden, but in fact be cherished as a gift. You won’t be just another space occupied by matter. You and every aspect of your being would matter. And finally, love will replace all the indifference your life has been filled with.

Isn’t that what we all yearn for, at the end of the day? Some place where we’d be enough?

But I fear I’d never discover this place. What if it is only found in fleeting moments that never turn into an eternity? Or worse, what if home is merely a construct that exists only in the confines of our minds? We could all be walking in never ending circles, completely missing the reality of it all, searching for something that doesn’t even exist.

At least, it’s not just you or just me, in this quest for an abode. It’s all of us. We might all be alone in our fears, each fighting a war that the other is unaware of. Our paths might be different, and we might end up making homes out of different things, but until then, know that I am as lost as you are. I too continue to constantly run away from this emptiness that threatens to engulf me. I want to go home, as badly as you do. Our only comfort, until we all go home,  remains in the thought that although we are all alone, we are all together in our aloneness. 

Cut loose..

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“Never give up” the world advised her, because quitting is for losers. Determined to live by those three words, she held onto everything with all her might. Another incident, another revelation, the more things went downhill, the more resolute she became. She was like the stubborn child that develops a sudden attachment to the toy you try to take away. She had a single minded focus on not letting go.

So focused she was on the act of holding on, that the object of her affection began to recede into the background. She no longer saw the monster that he was. She was holding on for the sake of holding on, her vice like grip leaving marks of persistence. She stood there blinded by her love for broken things, oblivious to her bleeding profusely.

Unaware of her own foolishness, she went about her life ignoring anything and everything that wasn’t him, until the day she saw the mirror and felt pure terror spread through her veins. A shadow peered back at her. A bruised, battered shadow of a stranger.

The same force that creates also destroys. The same love that helps us grow into something beautiful also has the potential to turn us into people we thought we’d never become. How easy it is to lose perspective. We only see what we want to see. A steady gaze on our ideal world, whilst reality blurs into the peripheral vision.

Somewhere down the road, she had not only lost sight of her hopes and dreams but also her sense of self. She no more knew who she was. In loving him she had forgotten to love herself.  In discovering him, she had lost herself. In trying to fix him, she had wrecked herself.

Should she still believe in the fake promises of how everything will “sort itself out in its own time”?

Is quitting always wrong? So, retracing your path is a shame? But what if you had taken the wrong turn? Is it still okay to keep walking in the wrong direction, because to turn around and walk back would mean accepting you made a mistake? Are you going to continue to let the toxicity erode you little by little, just because the world is confident that only weak people change their minds?

We are made to believe that strength is in holding on. And to give up on anyone or anything is a sin. But sometimes it requires more courage and discipline to say “No” than to just passively watch others take control of our lives. It is not a simple task, to tear something you love away from yourself. It is a whole lot easier to stay and endure.

It’s time we accept to ourselves that some things just don’t work out. And some people do you more damage than good. Granted, it is not going to be easy. But when has life ever been? Your heart will throw a tantrum. But don’t let your emotions cloud your judgement. This is where you need to let reason intervene.

Be gentle yet firm, and allow yourself to loosen the hold. Unclench your fists, and take a step back. And notice how light it feels.

Never let your loyalties to others distract you from the obligations you have towards yourself. Respect yourself enough to remove from your life, anything that doesn’t feel right. And if the world ever tries to make you feel guilty about making yourself a priority, just walk away contentedly, knowing that you now have with you something fundamental to human existence: Dignity.

 

 

Fine lines..

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Ours is a society that glorifies the pseudo acts of sacrifice. You gave up the love of your life to marry a stranger, because you didn’t want to spoil your family’s “reputation”? Wow, aren’t you just the ideal child. You exchanged your ambitions and convictions for the person you live with, because they can’t respect you enough to respect your dreams? Well, don’t you fret, we all need to give up one thing to gain another even if that one thing happens to be an integral part of who we are!

The ridiculous things that people claim to “sacrifice” range from time, personal interests to career and love. They even go to the extent of adding to this already absurd list, things like their soul, self respect, dignity, values and morals.

The dictionary defines sacrifice as “an act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy”. Whenever you think there is a need to sacrifice something for something else, ask yourself if that “something else” is deserving of this act of yours. Great minds have exchanged their lives for causes bigger than themselves: Justice, freedom, compassion, humanity and for a better world in general. That is sacrifice in its truest sense. Not, losing things that you didn’t have the courage to fight for, and later hiding under the name of having done a “selfless” act. There is a different term for that: Cowardice.

The most common form of this pseudo-sacrifice is allowing oneself to be exploited. People unconsciously but repeatedly indicate through their actions that it is okay to be taken advantage of. In fact, at some point of time we all do this. Don’t we all mutter a half-hearted “It’s okay” to those who hurt us frequently, every time they apologise? Their actions might be unintentional but that doesn’t change the pain that is produced as an end result. And what have we done? We have unknowingly conveyed to them the literal meaning of those words. “It is okay”. “It is okay that you’re hurting me again and again instead of rectifying your mistakes”. And then we sit and crib about how they repeatedly do the very things that cause us heartache. This continues as a never ending cycle until the day we work up the guts to utter the uncomfortable truth: “It’s not okay. It hurts”.

“People will always treat you the way you teach them to treat you”- Voice Ra.

If someone does something that causes you pain, tell them they can’t do it. If they don’t hear you, protest until they do. Scream if you must, for them to acknowledge your suffering. But for god’s sake, don’t just sit there and play the victim. Either take control and decide to tolerate nothing less than respect or don’t whine when you end up getting treated like dirt.

When you don’t have your best interests in mind, how do you expect others to? If you don’t take care of yourself, no one else is going to do it for you. If you don’t protect yourself, why would anyone else bother?

If you’re going to allow yourself to be used as a walkway, people will not hesitate to walk all over you, if that’s what it takes for them to reach where they want.

But here’s the good part. No one can abuse you unless you allow them to. Sadly, most of us live our lives without even realizing that we are being used.  Just because an act is immoral we assume people will refrain from doing it. But that isn’t how the world works, is it?

It is indeed a beautiful thing to be able to see the good in everyone you meet, but always keep in mind that that’s not the full story. Don’t forget that the unpleasant aspects do lurk somewhere inside. People are not necessarily bad all the time, not all of them at least. But, we are all selfish creatures immersed in our own troubles and sorrows. One way or the other we are all self absorbed, because we are the protagonist of the story of our life, and the rest of humanity just forms the insignificant side roles.

Remember, there is a very thin line that separates kindness and foolishness, a good person and a pushover. Intelligence is in being able to identify where one ends and the others begins.

Be a good person and love unconditionally. But know when your love is being abused. Be considerate of others’ needs and even go the extra mile to help them. But never neglect yourself in the process of aiding others. Giving up certain inconsequential things for the people we love is inevitable. After all, what is love if we don’t tolerate each other’s imperfections? But also have the courage to do what you need to do for yourself. Stand up for yourself, even if it means standing alone.

Human beings are a strange mixture of compassion, spite and indifference, and it is not always balanced nor is it in the right proportions. But it is all in there, all the time.

See the light but be aware of the darkness that coexists.

 

The faint melody in cacophony..

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The insects drawn to the light, hover precariously over the fire. They seem unaware of the possibility that in an instant, the dancing flames could turn into flickering tongues and devour the insect whole.

Some of us are similar to those insects. We seem to possess a strong affinity to those damaged by time. We envelop them in a tight embrace in an attempt to mend their soul and make them feel whole again, while their shards cut through what’s left of our worn out being.

What is this strange obsession with all that’s sad? Do we unconsciously romanticize the melancholy of it? It probably gives us a purpose to strive for in this meaningless existence of ours. Is it just a selfish act to boost our egos? Or are we just being cynical in refusing to accept that we are just trying to help?

Numerous possible reasons, but the fact remains that some of us always seem to try to fix broken people, as if they were things that need to be repaired. We fail to see that they are people, imperfect compositions of a million oddities, multitudes of emotions and thoughts that has undergone years of conditioning and experiences. It would be nothing less than conceit to think that we could somehow magically understand every fiber of their being and stitch every tear in their soul.

Maybe we should just humbly admit to our own conscience that compassion is not in trying to restore people into who they were before the tragedy hit them. It is pure arrogance to think that it is your business to work on bettering someone else. And pause for a minute and think, is your life in line? We are all broken and destroyed by life. Just in different magnitudes and ways.

True compassion is not in forcefully trying to put back their life together, rather it’s gently standing by them as they fall apart and silently helping them pick up piece by piece. It is in letting them be the horribly wrecked being that they are.

It might be a hard pill to swallow, but not everybody needs your help. People as damaged as they might be, are capable of taking care of themselves. What you smother, you kill. Don’t empty a zillion buckets and ask why the plants aren’t  nourished by it. Instead, take a step back and just let them grow of their own accord.

Let them be whatever the storm has made them into. Notice the awkward grace of their dilapidated body. Look at the way their shattered soul glints in the sunlight. Appreciate the beautiful ruins of their being. This isn’t about romanticizing tragedy. It is about realizing that honesty is the purest form of beauty.  And what could possibly be more honest and beautiful than the imperfections of a naked soul, that bares the bruises and scars that went into its making, like a glorious history of  battles and victories..

Bed time stories..

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Ever felt that dull pain in your chest? The quiet yet constant pain that insists on you thinking about the very things that you’re trying hard to forget? Like the snooze alarm of our minds, with its incessant reminders of yesterday. With each passing minute it gets increasingly loud, as you fumble for the non-existent stop button.

As inconvenient as this pain might be, you know that the days are relatively better. The sunlight breaks the vicious cycle of thoughts. The brightness throws the demons off scent. Your deepest fears are drowned by the chaos of the world. The spotlight is on the people and the things that surround you. The obsessive mind welcomes the distraction, as your unfocused thoughts shift from one thing to another.

But in the darkness of the night, you are alone. The night brings with it an unnatural silence. As you sit by the moonlight, paralyzed, you know what is to come. The inevitable. And it begins. One by one they jump out of the darkest corners of your being. Each uglier than the one before. Held captive by fear, your feet rooted to the ground, you remain where you are. You feel their presence. The voices. How you dread those terrifying voices.  A gentle hum of nostalgia and random memories, gradually raising to a deafening roar of pain, guilt and shame.

The visitor is here once again. The paranoia. Unwelcome as it is, it never hesitates to stay a while. As it takes control over your thoughts and your emotions, you’re convinced that it’s not over yet. Yesterday’s mistakes are coming for you.

With nothing else to turn to, you know there is little you could do to escape this. You take a deep breath gathering all the strength that you’ve got and give in. You take the beating. You allow them the satisfaction of watching you fall to the floor and writhe in pain. You cover your ears with shivering hands and shut your tear filled eyes tight, praying that it’s over already.

You’re haunted, not by the deceased but by the alive and breathing. And the next thing you know, you’re breathless. You struggle as the air refuses to enter your lungs. You know what is suffocating you. You know it by the way it feels. It is your past.

As the first rays of light hit the ground, one by one they all leave. You managed to stay alive. It is a new day, and you should be feeling brave. But the terror from the night before is still fresh in your mind. You carry your trembling body around. As you go through the day, you walk a little faster, hold your head a little lower, hoping to pass by unseen.

But they see you.

It’s you who don’t see them.

You convince yourself to not fear the nights to come. You tell yourself that tonight will be better, unaware of them laughing eerily at you. Once the day is gone, the night must arrive. They leave by the dawn, but they must return with the darkness. What a naive soul you must be, to even think that you’d be left free..

A Misfit’s Cry Of Anguish..

You probably don’t remember telling me any of this. Maybe I’m just overthinking things, or maybe not. Nevertheless, I think there are a couple of things that you need to be aware of.

Firstly, stop making baseless assumptions. Stop misinterpreting someone’s silence as having an attitude. When someone is quiet on the exterior, it does not imply that their head is empty. What is on display is rarely an indication of what thrives inside such people. Maybe my brain struggles to find words like a hand attempting to hold water, what would you know about that? I know I’m “weird”, as the society has termed people like me. And I’ve struggled to comes to terms with the fact that I’m not normal. Probably the hardest thing to internalize was the realization that I will never fit in anywhere.

Would you like it if I were to come up to you in a social setting and give you a lecture on why you shouldn’t talk so much? Would it be considered as “socially acceptable behavior” if I constantly comment on your loudness and how you contribute to noise pollution? No? Then what makes you think you have the right to comment on my silence? How is it okay for people like you to pinpoint my inability to make small talk and wreck my self esteem by constantly hurling insensitive words in my direction? What sort of screwed up logic of yours makes you think, you can make me speak by commenting again and again on the one thing that I struggle with? Let me say this loud and clear since you don’t seem to quite understand: People are different and it is OKAY to be different. I don’t have to change myself or act like an extrovert just so that people like you accept me. People need to accept people for who they are.

It is such an easy task to pass judgement on every soul that you lay your eyes upon, isn’t it? Because it doesn’t take much to destroy something, while it takes everything to build something. Anyone can be destructive, there is no pride in that. Very few can create and nurture. You should be ashamed of the wounds you have inflicted upon others, for you have gifted them with something that will never fade with time: scars. How many more lives are you going to ruin with your words? Please stop. Stop trampling over others to feel strong. You will not achieve anything.

You continue to label people and call them names because you do not see the misery your actions give rise to. Remember, what you see is not all that is there. What you see externally is only the tip of the iceberg. It is only the final output. What you might not see is the amount of effort it takes internally. All that you probably see is a person who seems “anti social” and never contributes much to the conversations that happen. You probably laugh at the fact that they don’t have a “life” and hide at home avoiding social events. To be honest, I don’t completely blame you, because that is all that can be seen from the outside. But what you actually don’t see is how much that person struggles with their awkward nature. You don’t understand how much courage they need to gather to fight against their crippling social anxiety to be surrounded by people. You do not know a thing about the kind of effort it requires them, just to step outside their house. You are completely unaware of the magnitude of strength they need to summon every day, just to continue living in this world. Something that you might be able to pull of effortlessly might take someone else all that they’ve got. Don’t misunderstand my words, I’m not trying to victimize them or paint what they do as an amazing feat. But understand that maybe for that person it is a tough war. Never underestimate the battles that someone else faces. Our demons might be different, but the nature of the pain remains the same.

I think the problem lies in, you not knowing the kind of impact that your words have on others. Some things that we intend as a passing remark keep ringing in someone’s ears for too long. I’m none of the things you accuse me of being. I’m not fake. I might be extremely self critical at times but that doesn’t mean I don’t have self respect and dignity. Maybe things seem that way from your place. Perspectives change with positions, I of all people should know that. Maybe if I were standing in your shoes I would misunderstand me too. But I wish you were standing in mine, so you’d know my pain. All that I’m asking from you is give people the benefit of doubt before labelling them or jumping into conclusions.

Call it over reacting or being highly sensitive, but some of us are just tired of being silent spectators in our own lives, watching people walk in and write their own descriptions of us. We’re tired of people assuming thing. So, the next time you come across someone who seems a bit different, probably introverted, possibly socially awkward, who seems extremely strange, if you can’t appreciate the good things in them then please walk away silently. If you cannot help someone, please don’t destroy them. Don’t ever make someone feel like they are not good enough, because there is nothing more shameful and cowardly than that. Respect people, even those that you don’t understand. Before you let the spiteful words slide off your smooth tongue, ask yourself just one thing: how can you hate something that you cannot fully comprehend?