PSD : Post Series Depression

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It all started well. The love at first sight, the giggly feeling all the time, the looking forward to the hour of arrival; we had it all. But like all good things, our love hate relationship must come to an end as well.

Yes, I’m just talking about the attachment you get to a new series. It all starts out harmless, “Everyone’s been talking about this. Let’s see how it feels.” You start the first episode. The first few minutes pass. Hmmm that wasn’t so bad. By the time the first episode ends (if you’re lucky) you’re gonna be hooked and then you decide to watch the rest of the episodes that are already out. RIGHT NOW.

If you dare to choose the unbearable path of watching an ongoing series, you’re in for nights of misery, my friend. It becomes all you can think about day and night. You download the OSTs, change that facebook cover photo, change your whatsapp status to some reference from the series, in short the series takes over your life. The wait for the next episode feels like eternity. When shall our eyes meet? When will my heart skip that beat again? It is the sweet, sweet pain of first love.

Each week this repeats, until a new episode is released, which instead of calming you down, leaves you with a cliff hanger so intense that you regret ever starting this series in the first place. THE WAIT IS TOO MUCH DAMMIT. You try reading up on it, theories, fan fiction, articles, anything you can find. It is like a drug and you need more of it. That innocent love has turned into an unhealthy obsession.

And then, behold, your favorite character dies  J (I’m sorry I just had to use the emoji. I HAD TO). CURSE THAT LOSER WHO TOLD YOU TO WATCH THIS SERIES. FUCK HIM. IF HE LET YOU GET ATTACHED TO SOMEONE WHO DIES, HE CAN NO LONGER BE CALLED A FRIEND. END OF STORY. J You try to calm your soul by giving everyone else spoilers. If you must suffer the heartbreak, then everyone else must too.

And finally the series ends. If you’re EXTREMELY LUCKY and the series loves you back, you get a satisfactory happy ending. You feel a little warm inside. But irrespective of the ending, do not be fooled mate; for days of depression and buckets of ice cream await. You start feeling hollow. There’s nothing to look forward to. No reason for your heart to tickle with happiness or cringe in pain. No reason to live at all. What is meaning of life if there are no more fucking episodes? TELL ME GOD! TELL ME WHY!

This is exactly what PSD is. It is depression of the cruelest kind. Each time the OST comes on shuffle you reminiscence on those beautiful moments you’ve had, while tears roll down in a secret corner of your eye. The world suddenly seems gray, and you’re staring through the window and wonder why must love taste so bitter? WHY MUST WE SUFFER LIKE THIS?

My condolences for you all. Love is such a thing, it must leave you hurting. But years later, when you’re older and wiser, you will smile when the OST comes on shuffle and think back and it will all be worth it. Sigh.

The Lost Pin

You know, in life, you need someone who will tell you about your flaws. Everyone can say something nice but only a few will tell you your mistakes in a way it won’t hurt. I know “Society” or whatever tells us how flawed we are every single moment. But when someone you trust shows you your flaws, about your missing pieces, you tend to fix yourself and better yourself.

Very few of us have those people. I did.

We would look at the kittens together too scared to touch them, too in love to look away. We would swing our feet from the edge of the roof, too scared to jump, too in love with the idea of death to live. It was always real with us. We would hardly meet, hardly talk yet we would know every little inch of the other. She would sit in silence and stare at the sky and I would look down at her feet. The long distance below.  How the air would feel hitting my face at great speeds. How the concrete would hit my head. How she would look at me through her feet, like I was beneath her.

She was everything I had ever wanted to be. She had dreams and aspirations and she could touch the sky if she tried. But something was holding her back to earth. To me. I never did know what it was. She wouldn’t tell me. She said she didn’t know herself. A lost lover? A hurt family? I never asked. In fact I felt guilty to. I should be able to know this without asking.

She was happy and each time she smiled, her diamond earring would just slightly catch the sun’s rays and reflect them to my eyes. That was my sunrise. It was too bright for me to see myself. Her earrings filtered the most beautiful rays to me; just like she filtered everything to me. Only letting me see a glimpse of all the brightness that was her.

I asked for one of those earrings once. She said that I would get it, in due time.

Due time. We would talk about that too. How all of our deaths were due. How each strand of our being would just cease to exist and how brilliant that would be.

One day she was late. I went to sit by our usual spot, but she wasn’t there. It was just minutes till the sun would rise. I needed her. I looked around, only to find one of her earrings lying in her spot, glistening in the morning rays. I took it and through it for the first time I looked at the sun. I looked at her, glowing somewhere, burning out her insides, sparkling in all her beauty. She left me a piece of her, my own little part of the sun.

I stopped looking at the sun rise. I knew I would see one in due time.

My Letter to Time

I’ll stop. Stop trying to find some glorified, theatrical way to talk about your significance in my life. Because you know nothing even comes close. There are so many things I could say, but none of that would come close to saying what you mean to me.

I’ll stop. Stop trying to fight you back with all I’ve got. Stop trying to resist you. Because when a storm comes, you must embrace it, and let it wreck you from within. But it’s hard. Hard to justify the things you do.  Hard to figure out the way you flow.

It is starting to feel real. It is starting to feel like all those movies I’ve watched. But then sometimes I feel like I’m asking for the pain, like I want to bleed. It’s weird how our perception of reality is different from what reality actually is. How sometimes it feels like “it shouldn’t feel like this”. Maybe it’s just me and I’ve turned to a stone. Maybe I’ve always been.

It is starting to feel like my soul’s dying. It’s crying for help inside, and it knows all too well what’s happening. My hopes shatter into pieces before I even realize I had them. Some days it feels meaningless. Some days the storm gets me drenched. And it rains and it rains and the sky is this shade of grey that stirs my heart.

Then I realize I am in love with being drenched. I am in love with the grey gloom. That there is a certain pleasure in the pain that we all dread. Maybe I’m unconsciously getting addicted to it. That’s when the guilt hits, when you realize you actually want everything you’re trying so hard to fight against. Then again, what do I know about pain?

I try to grasp you within the palms of my hands. But you so effortlessly slip away. I try to catch you before you come, but you so beautifully deceive me. I try to figure out how to spend each minute, but you just destroy the whole meaning of even having a plan. Sometimes I give up and stand in my path, awing at the beauty of your existence. Sometimes I catch up and wonder why I’m still not happy when I achieve you.

What are we all trying to do? What are we running from? More importantly what are we running towards? I try to comprehend every fiber of your being, but fail because sometimes you don’t even exist. I realize I can’t ever hold the water that spills from my glass and I’ve stopped trying.

But I refuse to let you lead the way; refuse to let go of having any sense of control, refuse to admit at the end we’re all at your mercy. I try to give you meaning, I try to give you purpose, to try and usher you to some barely visible path. But I’m feeling like everything is against me at this point. I try to give you dreams, to give you something to look forward to. Something to run for. But I’m at a standstill trying to figure out why everyone else is running. Without a purpose, it all slowly loses meaning.

I try to let other people in. I try to feel like a part of the mob; to try and understand your perception of people. As I sip the last drop of coffee she says to me “Well my mom always told me that life has the funniest ways of showing you what you should really be doing. It wouldn’t mean that you’ve failed or given up it would just simply mean it took you a wrong turn to find the right one. I guess you can always choose not to be miserable I personally think that yeah maybe that day will come when you wake up scared and not liking what you’re doing but that’ll probably be the start of something new if you let it.”

They all say it’ll work out. They all say I shouldn’t fight you. And even I know that you will flow and carve the path for me, without me even moving an inch. But the path being there doesn’t really mean anything if I don’t take it. I want to run for something at least once. Even if I fail and tumble down and hit my face, at least I’d have tried.

I have realized everyone has a different justification; everyone gets into the ring with different preparations. I think everybody gets these questions, but not everyone chooses to answer them. All these stories come together and weave a beautiful creation. Something only God and you can sit back to experience.

“I think my dream actually lies with people and the world and doing things.
But I believe I am not ahead of my time and kids of my age these days don’t know much about dreams.
I remain dissolved in “nows” with wild and broad consuming thoughts of “future and forever”.

I try and weave into my soul these little words that flow in the air. Even if the path I’m walking is for me to walk alone, I have brilliant paths beside my own. The things around me shape how I want to be. I think I’m getting there. Or maybe not. But that’s just a matter of perception in the end.

Wait patiently till you grow up. You are gonna get opportunities on a daily basis. You need to filter them out and no matter how annoyed or pissed or whatever you feel personally at that moment, find a way to power through it and do something. Doing makes the differences. Doing. And trust me for those who want it, God gives them enough chances. More than enough.

I think wanting to do something and getting to do it is in itself a rare privilege that a very few people get. Keeping your expectations even from yourself like an open canvas can sometimes give you a more beautiful picture than any other that exists for you.

Or maybe not. And there comes the matter of your acceptance”

I guess I have to accept you own me, and not the other way around. But you’re amazing all on your own and I’m gonna try my best to make a wreck of which I am happy of. I haven’t reached the answers yet. I haven’t started building my shelter from the storm. But I’ve decided I’m not going to. I have to face you alone and bare and I shall make an experience out of it. I’m not gonna keep running aimlessly, rather slow down and let everything in. Not everyone is meant for a well defined purpose, I’ll shape it into something much bigger than that. I have realized I am never gonna be content with my answers, because the day that happens I’ll stop running. And I’m not ready for that just yet.

It’s about giving back what you have given me. In my own small ways and helping the other souls running about like me. Give a little part of the storm to each one on my way and maybe even let someone else’s storm hit me in the face.

It’s not about the bigger picture. Rather the little rocks and hurdles I’ll pass and the small flowers I’ll plant in my path. To make someone else feel a little joy. To change things for the better, no matter how small they may be. It’s not about success or happiness. It is about the endless questions we try to answer.  It’s about how we all let you flow within ourselves.

I will slow down and let you intertwine with each strand of my soul.

I will stop trying to define you and give you constraints. Instead I will try to be at the center of the storm and let my hair loose because you are the most amazing thing man has ever known.

I will keep running, towards meaning, towards something greater than a dream, towards you.

A Story of Love and Grass

“Bhai koto nise ?”
I turned around at the rickshaw going past us. I’ve stopped counting how many times people have asked that. People in the cities are apparently very curious. It wasn’t like this where I lived. I would stand and walk and poop and do my daily activities and nobody would even bat an eye. But here, everywhere people are staring at me. Am I some celebrity now? Have they never seen a cow? I admit, I am rather easy on the eyes with my red leather and shiny eyes, but don’t they know it’s rude to stare?
I’ve been walking for a while now. Sure I may have gotten a little bulky the last few days, but that’s only because master was feeding me too much, now, I may be naive but I’m not stupid enough to turn down food.

 

Mokhless liked my curves. He thought they were sexy. I wasn’t like the typical blonde beauty; I was and still am a sassy red head. Mokhless was the hotshot. We grew up together since we were little calves. Bulbuli and the others had an eye on him, but we were meant to be. Inseparable till the end. I wonder what he’s doing now. My precious Moo. He is such a sweetheart.

 

“Ei Lalu, beshi genjam korish na, gate er bhitore dhuk !” the man shouted.

 

What the hell? Do I look like a Lalu to you? I am a pure Sokhina. I can’t believe you would give me such a generic name just because I’m red and pretty. Humans are such dumb creatures. No fashion sense, they wear weird stuff. And the females. Oh lord. Painting their eyes with black ink and wrapping weird things around their bodies. I really don’t get humans sometimes.

 

I entered through the gate and they gave me more food. Why is everyone so keen on making me fat? What’s the point if Mokhless isn’t even here to see me? As the night draws in, I sit down and wonder what waits. Mostly wonder what Mokhless is doing. I think this is what love feels like. We haven’t ever been apart before you see. But master told us he was making us big and fat to sell us to the city folks. Master was a good guy and I don’t mind walking a few miles, even though I don’t really get what the city folks would want with us. But if Mokhless was with me, I wouldn’t be this lonely.

 

I stare at the stars above, only failing and my vision being stopped by a ceiling. What kind of lives do these people live? Locked up in little boxes with not a hint of grass in sight. Sigh. I feel bad for them sometimes. Ever since we were young, we’ve heard stories of these boxes stacked side by side. We’ve grown up fantasizing one day coming to the cities and living a rich and happy life. Our lives were black and white. We wondered what color felt like. They said this is where the lucky ones end up. I’m one of them. I wonder what awaits me. Only the new sunrise will tell.

 

Maybe the grass is greener on the other side.

On Foreign Grounds.

*Lyrics in Italics are from Blackbear’s Girls Like You  I completely twisted the meaning. No connection whatsoever to the song so feel free to ignore those parts .*

Give me your forever, or at least just for a while

I touched her fingertips. They were so soft, so foreign. Unlike anything I’ve ever touched before.

Give me never ending, or at least give me a mile

It felt like forever. I was in a trance. She moved in a way that bewildered. She was unlike anything I’ve seen before, yet somehow the only thing that was even remotely similar to me.

Give me happiness, or at least give me a smile

She smiled at me as she walked past and grabbed the fruit. Her slender hands gently wrapped around the crimson of the flesh as her nails dug into it. The juices oozed out as her tongue touched the inner soft white center, hair covering her porcelain cheeks.

I brushed my fingers through her hair as they clung to the sweat trickling down her forehead and she dove in for a bite. She was divine; the fruit fell from her hands as my teeth bit into her lips.

Give me forever for a while

The ground beneath us disappeared. Everything was turning into this horrid blue, swirling around us, as her lips snatched away from mine, and her gaze too afraid to lock into me. I looked at her as the blue engulfed her in a womb as she crouched against her knees, eyes steady now.

Deep and infinite.

Staring into me.

Yearning onto me.

Lust filled me up from inside. The bones in my body stiff, the fingers of my hands clenched as she disappeared.

It took me a while before I realized everything was turning hazy around me. Hazy and green. Hazy and yellow. Hazy and all these colors I had never seen before. This was fear. I didn’t care before, when she was with me. Now that she’s not I realized what I’ve done.

Swear to God I’m a sinner in a church, burnin’ up for you

What have I done?

I closed my eyes as I felt something inside me sink further and further and it was not the most pleasant of feelings.

With my eyes closed I could still taste the touch of her lips and the feel of her skin. But there was something inside me that was stronger. Remorse.
Swear to God she’s a blessing and a curse

What did she feel I wondered? I wanted to feel her still.

As I opened my eyes I was a new being. There were grains of wet dirt stuck to my feet and not another movement in sight.

I turned and turned, dumbfounded.

Lost.

Distracted.

Hungry.

I looked around for her.

I looked around to fill this weird void inside me.

What is this place?

There were enormous skies and golden stars that shimmered through my eyes. I pressed one foot forward in front of me, and then the other as the dirt pierced in between the gaps of my toes.

I couldn’t figure out what was happening. This was nothing like our ship back on Andromeda. I’m assuming this isn’t even the same galaxy. The atmosphere smells different.

I sat down on a rock and tried to think my way through. Our ship is a strict one. We have things called rules, and ours has many different species residing in one. Usually species of a similar kind gather together, but then there are the “misfits”. Some of us don’t want to spend all our neuron impulses thinking about how to expand our base. There are types like us in all the galaxies and they are sent to our ship to live as we want. We are few but each different in our own ways. But unlike the other ships, some of us have something called will. Or at least that is what I’ve figured out. I don’t usually communicate with the other ones. Most aren’t interested and the smart ones control the ship. They’re the Head. You can’t talk with the Head.

The Head thinks “will” is just a random anomaly. Some neurotic mutation inside that makes our kind act different, “rebellious”. When we do, we’re sent off to different wanderers to test the waters. Wanderers aren’t like our ships. They don’t have controlled environments and behave entirely on their own. But we’re “expanding our horizons”. Someday this may be home.

Now, what the head doesn’t realize, or I think refuses to realize is that will exists. We behave abnormal because some of us can. Like I did. It was very unlike me. It wasn’t intentional but I wouldn’t say I didn’t want to do it. I had never felt anything like “lust” before.  She was the first one of my kind I had ever laid eyes on. In fact it was the first time I ever had such strong urge to do anything.

We don’t mate. We don’t need to. The number of our species is constant. I guess what I did was unnecessary. Unnecessary action goes against the rules. By deduction therefore, I must’ve been sent to a wanderer.

I have to survive on my own now. Not that I had help before, but back home we didn’t need to survive. We just did.

I don’t know if it’s the environment or if it’s part of the punishment, but I feel all sorts of new things.

But first I need to fill this void.

I got up and walked until I came across this fluid body on the ground. I know what it’s called but I can’t remember. Loss of memory is apparently part of the punishment.

Instinctively I lowered my head into the fluid body and let the fluid go in through my nostrils. I jerked up, gasping for air. No, that’s not right. I opened my mouth, and tried again. Yes, this time I felt the fluid penetrate through my pipes. It was rather sticky. I put my fingers through the fluid and saw something transparent wiggling in my hands. I wondered what it was. Curiosity feels new to me.

This void is swallowing me whole from inside out. I walked and walked until I came across things I could put in my mouth. My thinking capacity was slowly turning into spatial skills. I could feel it happen. It left a weird sensation through center of my eyes. Pain.

I also had this unnatural bulge appearing in my stomach. It was wiggling inside me like the transparent liquid from before.

I found something like I had bitten into before. But I couldn’t remember what it was called. It was similar but somehow different and it calmed the hole inside me. I was slowly becoming anxious and I walked around more and thought less and less.

I still wanted to see her.

As I could see myself less and less, and the something above me began to twinkle I felt this weird urge to lay myself down and I did. I was doing everything I felt like.

I completely forgot everything for a while.

When I was alive again there was something in my head; shining through. I looked up and I could see again.

I walked and walked and stopped only when the round thing on my body moved too much. It was becoming bigger.

All I did was walk till I couldn’t see and then for a while I would forget everything.

When I couldn’t walk anymore I just lied and stared at the things that twinkled up above.

I put my hand up against it and watched the sticks on it wiggle. I couldn’t remember what they were called.

Where was I? Why did it feel so different? Isn’t this home?

The thing inside me had grown out and was beginning to take shape. It was still with me, and I couldn’t move because of it. It moved in its own way. It tickled.

I opened my eyes when I felt something pulling me. It was her.

There were twinkles on her head and they looked at me as the curve on her turned up. I felt warm for a while. I felt like home.

She gently grabbed the thing and ripped it apart from me as if she knew exactly what to do.

I felt water drip from the holes in my head.

I kept looking at her. Unable to move. Unable to think.

She was nice. She was hazy.

She was the only one.

I felt a pang in my gut. For a moment everything came back and I realized I was dying. I felt one last feeling inside me spring to existence, as I looked at my offspring in her arms. I felt hope for our species and wished they would make this wanderer our home.

Give me forever, for a while

Give me forever, for a while

 

 

Orange

Hi there.

Yeah I suck with titles now. I was so good before. I don’t know what happened. A lot of things happened actually but I guess it’s hard to put into words.

It was October. Yeah I hope so. I don’t really remember. And I did not just say that to make it rhyme. Let’s just say it was October for the sake of this letter or whatever this is. Yeah, it was October last year. 2015, when I first knew you existed. You weren’t the one that caught my eye at first though.

I don’t usually do things like this. Or I’ve never had to. And I never expected myself to do anything like this. But I’m doing it. And it’s weird and I feel giggly and I’m a Jiggly Puff. Yeah sorry I’m probably very different from what you usually get. Anyway, hasn’t even been an year now. But it feels like I’m in deep; neck deep in smiles, in goose bumps, in weird urges to write about you at 5 37 in the morning.

I’m trying not to be an emotional fool. But it’s weird and it’s pleasant and it’s all the things the rain pouring down on my toes feels like. Yeah it’s raining right now here.  I’ve never felt like this. Well I have, but it wasn’t this ugggh before. And I feel like writing but I can’t really put anything into words. And this is just so raw. I hate you seeing me like this. This is so stupid. And it’s weird because this has never happened. You’ll probably never read this. But. Yeah.

You feel very distant. You feel like the star I can’t touch. Not because the heat would burn me but cause I don’t have the guts to become an astronaut like I’ve always dreamed to be. It sucks you know, when you try so hard to find a dream but you know even before you have that dream that you can never achieve it. But there’s still this tiny part of me that hopes if not in a spaceship, I’ll be with you on the grass watching the stars, eating kimchi and ramen. Do you like stars? Do you like the rain? Do you maybe like to do adorable faces at 6 in the morning? Maybe?  A girl can hope right?

I have so much I’ve wanted to say. But words fall short. There’s this part of me feeling so stupid. Maybe only because you’re so out of reach. It feels like a void sometimes too, but it feels like I’m eating cupcakes at the same time. It’s weird. I’m weird. And you’re just my kind of weird. And goofy.  It feels like you’re taking over my memories. I hardly remember anything, but I find myself thinking about that time when your hair was all fluffy and your beanie was falling on your face. I like how you sit, with your back stretched. I like how you smile. I like how you’re just so rude sometimes it makes me wanna cry.  I like how your hands look when you’re holding your phone. I like your nonexistent tummy. I like your ripped jeans. I LOVE your high notes. I love that weird childish sound your voice makes when you talk. I love how you can actually hear that when you sing as well. I thought I liked black. I’ve always liked black. I mean I’m a black kind of person. But now I really miss the orange; even though you don’t have it anymore. I really liked the orange.

 

Where the Water Tastes Great

3rd May, 2036.

When I first walked in, I saw this navy blue blur of a Punjabi rush past me. He looked like some art enthusiast, just brimming with ideas. There was always this strange rush in all of his little movements. It’s rather subtle, but it’s like he was always dying to get something done.

“I’m like your friend, but never your friend” is what he said to us in our first class. Oh, and “don’t chew gum in my class”. Doesn’t that one sentence just describe everything a teacher should be? And that is exactly what he’s always been. Someone who talked to us, told us that he hated us, laughed with us and even had arguments about Chelsea with some of us. The topics have ranged from politics to people to psychology to good food and what not. It felt like you could tell him anything at all, but at the same time, there was always this wall of respect.

From that first class on momentum, he was just the coolest teacher we had ever met. How anything except Astrophysics could be made this interesting was beyond me. The person, who introduces you to a subject, does in fact play a big part in whether you end up liking it or not. No matter how interesting something is, if it’s not presented in an intriguing way, chances are you may not like it. And he was the perfect example of how it should be done.

Each time you entered his classroom, you were greeted with the smell of coffee and the occasional “bashar shobai bhalo ?”
I know this all sounds cliché but there’s just something in the way he speaks, it just makes you want to listen. I’ve never once found his classes boring. He was everything a teacher should be.

It’s not just the academics though. I was never one to actually go and have conversations with him, but whatever I did hear, made an impact. I’ve found myself thinking about a lot of things he’s said to us, for hours on end. He makes you rethink your own beliefs. I’m sure his words have left an impression on anyone who bothered to listen.

It’s really hard to put it into words but it’s like his words make you want to work hard and make something of yourself and earn those hypothetical chocolates.  Three years is actually a very long time, and I think all of his students no matter where they are will always remember those three years we’ve had with him.

“Teachers see things. They see when you’re running down the hall. They see when you’re passing notes. But they also see the person we can all become someday.” Maybe he really would have been better as a guidance counselor.

In everyone’s life, there’s this one teacher, who just inspires you, who you end up aspiring to be like, whom you’ll always remember. Shabbir Sir has been that person for me. Today’s Teacher Appreciation Day in some countries, and I want to use this chance to thank him, for all that he has inspired in me. And as his student, trust me when I say this, I believe he can change the world.

#ShabbirSirForPresident !