Slow Down, Speed Up

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always known one thing for sure. One day, I want to be really successful and rich. I want to be the CEO of a company. I want to have enough money to bore myself into the state of zero temptation altogether. Sure, every other person has such a goal. Sure, people laugh. It somehow never mattered. It somehow was never that far-fetched.

Over the years, it took better shape in my head. I knew what I liked, what I wanted. I knew how and when it would be. And it wasn’t forced. I could see it. A profession I loved, was genuinely interested in, was naturally keen to grow and live in. Every decision in life somehow eventually logically traced itself back to that.

Logic.

That word that I live for. That omnipotent factor in my life.

Perhaps this would be a good time to mention that I wasn’t living in some dream world where I would be happy and rich and loved. There was always a trade off. And I was very clearly aware of it. You don’t just become a CEO by getting married and staying at home. You don’t have time to cook and look after your family. Popping kids isn’t a priority in your life anymore. I was always painfully aware of it. Just that it didn’t seem like too big a sacrifice to me. I never was interested in any of them to begin with. These things were always just ‘To-do’s’ to be ticked off somewhere in the long list of life. Technicalities. Hygiene factors.

And then things changed.

I somehow popped the bubble I was living in.

I decided to grow up.

I decided to actually give myself a chance.

I decided to believe in the Chopsuey Theory.

I want to be home now. I want to have a happy personal life. I want to have a family, and I want to love them and be loved in return. I want to cook for them. I want to do everything in my power to protect them. From the world. From the idiotic child that used to reside in me.

I smile now. All the time. Like a complete idiot.

I want it to stay that way, forever.

I know I’ll still do well in life. I know I still won’t sit at home popping lil babies all over the place.

But I also know.

That I’ll be happy.

That I’ll live.

And not just exist.

Why. Grow. Up.

Because you’re no longer a kid.

Because popping bubble gum is no longer cool.

Because popularity is not the final goal.

Because the length of your school skirt is no longer a concern.

Because jumping in puddles ruins formal clothes.

Because you now have to wash said formal clothes.

Because stupidity is no longer cute.

Because dropping ice cream is plain clumsy.

Because you are what you eat.

Because red hair is no longer acceptable.

Because late nights are not followed by late mornings.

Because you can’t live in isolation.

Because you can’t ignore.

Because opinions matter.

Because judgements rule.

Because emotions need to be understood.

Because your ego is no longer a defence.

Because you want to protect.

Because you want to feel safe.

Because you care.

Because you believe.

Because you’ve messed enough with people.

Because you’ve messed enough with yourself.

A Long Long Time Ago....

I used to skip and hop and walk, often akin to a monkey.

Now I walk, still fast, but oh so normally slow.

I used to be up for something new every day.

Now I come home, and watch TV.

I used to stay awake all night, and still manage to work.

Now I’m in bed at 11pm. Still in bed at 9 next morning.

I used to look forward to work.

Now I wish I could shirk it.

I used to sometimes want to dress up.

Now I stay in, just to not have to find something to wear.
I used to want to dance, to learn.
Now I stay eerily still.

I used to love meeting new people.

Now I like my comfort zone.

I used to talk a lot, a lot.

Now I’m the quiet one who has nothing to say.
I used to do shots and everything else 23.
Now I crib and feel every year of 23.

In my friend’s words,

2010, you were a bitch.

I can’t wait to bury you.

In my words:

2011, you’re full of promises.

I can’t wait to embrace you.

Be Kind, Rewind

After much thought and usual fretting, I finally did decide to head back to MICA, for the alumni meet, albeit just for a day.

A day for me was optimum.

It was just enough time to meet everyone, remember the good times, but not the bad.

It was just enough time to realize a lot of my mistakes, but not dwell on them.

It was just enough time to have fun, but not waste away.

But without doubt, MICA would have to be the two most complicated years of my life. And perhaps the only two years I would have regrets about, and wish I had a chance to relive. Because for once, I knew my misery was of my own making, and my complaints were plain silly.

For the first time in my life, I wish I could undo and redo a lot of things.

So the one day I spent on campus, every time I met a MICAn, a particular thought would pop up in my head, wondering how I would’ve been different to that person, given the chance, to rewind two years.

This is to you, MICAn.

I would have liked to have known you better.

I would have liked to not pretend to have known you.

I would have liked to have given you a chance.

I would have liked to not have run in the opposite direction, at first chance.

I would have liked to have judged less.

I would have liked to have been judged less.

I would have liked to have talked more.

I would have liked to have been talked about less.

I would have liked to have paid attention.

I would have sometimes liked less attention.

I would have liked to have shown my love for you, more.

I would have liked to have hurt you, less.

I would have liked to have liked you, just the way you are.

I wish you’d liked me, just the way I was.

I would have liked to have known MICA like you.

I would have liked to have been a MICAn, like you.

 P.S. I don't know if I managed to bring out all that I felt in that one day, in the correct way. It's just a funny feeling, for a rather non-emotional person, to realise that I actually do love MICA, and MICAns, and really do wish I had more time, for once.

Crash

What happens when the very things I believe in, the very things I rebel for, are the very things I realize I no longer believe in?

What happens when I find myself incapable of being passionate about anything…anything at all?

What happens when the one person I’m out to prove wrong turns out to be right?

What happens to my identity?

What happens to me?