This will not contain any emotionally induced opinion that is normally seen in my not-so-read blog. I don’t write often, once in a blue moon actually. When I do write, it’s about some recent event (mostly unimportant) that somehow manages to capture my attention, which tends to shift every quarter of an hour.
This is not me putting forward an opinion on Miley Cyrus or Edward Snowden. This is me being a normal girl, with not so normal tastes. This is me being a 19 year old college going student who’s life has opportunities and prospects but at the same time seems to be an ever deteriorating ruin. No, this is not an emotional rant either, those are reserved for my loving mother.
Generally once or twice a year, I have what people call a ‘nervous breakdown’. These stretch for hours generally, very rarely a few days when my life seems like it rather be over. No, I’m never suicidal but I do want to curl up in my comforter and not leave the room or talk to anybody. It’s almost like I’m on drugs, which I assure you I’m not. What is surprising (and disturbing) is that there is almost never a specific reason for these periods of being a cranky and silent loner (I don’t consider any of these as my general day to day traits), only that during these times, I will do whatever it takes to not talk to you, even if I like you. In this duration, I shed tears amounting up to what I would shed in two years. In this duration, I cry to my mother but cannot offer any rational explanation as to what might be happening to me. In this duration, I’m a sorry ruin of a person.
There are people who have been through a lot in their lives and are visibly happy for only short periods in a year. For me, it’s the polar opposite. It’s almost scary as to how for a week or two in a year, I’m the person who cries in bed, instead of being the person who goes to bed late after having a thirty minute laughing session with close friends.
In general, I consider myself a happy person. I don’t take things seriously, I have a good bunch of people around me, a good family and I study in a reasonably good university. I wouldn’t say my life is perfect and going exactly the way I wanted it to, but I don’t think anybody’s is. I understand the fact that I’m still 19 and my life, however it is, is more hopeful than the millions who don’t get a chance.
So what is it that makes me the Devil’s child for a few days in a year? I don’t know, I don’t think I ever will. These will just be phases I will have to cope with, while I try to make my way to a life worth living.
Triplecottontoe 