Dearest Blog,

How have you been? Good, I hope. With concentration spans at an all-time low, I know you must feel lonely. Still, let me tell you that the content out there these days is more shallow than it was a few years earlier. Trending it is, yes, but superficial nonetheless, without a soul. Well, most of it, actually. But you, my dear, are eternal. With that said, I’m here today to write my annual ‘I’m Weird Because..‘ post. Do you remember the first time I wrote one? Those were the days, right? Well, let’s do another today. Let’s see what kind of weird I have become now.

I’m Weird Because

I’m still unsure about having proper conversations with people. And I’m a long-time grown-up and some! You already know how I avoid taking calls unless it’s my sister. I’m more comfortable chatting, but with chatting too, after a point, I don’t know how to continue. If I could, I would talk to people via some app rather than have actual exchanges while sitting next to them. That is how much stress having conversations causes me.

I don’t know why, I cannot ask for something from someone for myself. I have this crippling anxiety and an intense feeling of shame if I have to ask for something from anyone, even the people closest to me. That’s not to say that I do not enjoy gifts. I do. Who doesn’t? But I will never ask you to give me anything. Then, if you gift me something first, I will not be able to rest till I repay that back. I absolutely dislike that feeling of being indebted to someone.

I don’t use or take anything that isn’t mine, and I find it funny when people think they can just start using something that doesn’t belong to them without permission. And then pontificate on it. Cut your coat according to your cloth. I like to live by that.

I don’t think I will ever be able to drive. I feel I’ll end up in jail if I even try. I did make several attempts to master this skill or even gain it for starters, but it never worked out. I keep telling my family that some people are born to be passengers for life, and I am ‘some people’! Having said that, when I’m in the passenger’s seat, if you see my expressions, you, like my sister, will notice how I try to drive with my eyes. It doesn’t make sense, right? I look at the road and the cars so intensely that you would think my look is enough to drive me anywhere. As I said, I’m weird!

What else makes me weird?

Whenever I listen to a song, I picture myself on the stage. I have done it ever since I can remember. There was a time when I would perform on stage every year, but I haven’t had the chance again since college. To say that I miss it is an understatement. On an entirely different tangent, when I performed on stage the last time, my husband, who wasn’t at that point my boyfriend, was one of those who especially complimented me.

I don’t know if this makes me weird, but of late, my thoughts are overwhelmed with those of death, the uncertainty of life and what’s the point of anything at all. It’s funny how you don’t think about death in your 20s. Then you hit your 30s, and everyone starts telling you your life is over. You see your parents growing old. You notice deaths more. And then, bam, you are almost at the threshold of 40. You feel overwhelmed. I know, I shouldn’t think this way. There is no certainty in life at any point, but I don’t want to have such feelings. It’s morbid. I don’t want much from life, just that as long as I live, I want to be content and not drowned in what-ifs. But there is this fear of death, not so much for myself, but for those I love, which I just can’t shake off. It’s messed up, I know.

On to less macabre topics, maybe? 

I get very conscious when someone comments on my gapped teeth or double chin. I’m pretty content with how I look. I have never been overly affected by beauty trends or how I’m supposed to look. Still, I’m human and sometimes comments affect me. First things first, I never undermine anyone for their looks. I will never tell someone they have put on weight or have become thinner. It’s not something that I register, to be honest. But if someone comments on how I look, sarcastically or without tact, I make an entire laundry list of what’s wrong with them in my mind. The only regret is that I lack the audacity to hand them the list. Yes, I cope in weird ways.

I’m generally a polite person. I will never start an argument with you just for the heck of it. In fact, even if I disagree with you, I’ll not try to change your opinion. I find it to be a waste of my time and energy. But I also don’t forget slights. So, if someone crosses me, for whatever reason, they will never again have a space in my life. Also, I then rename them in my contact list with some choicest nicknames that won’t flatter them one bit. Yes, I don’t forgive or forget. I don’t believe in that at all. Once bitten, twice shy. It’s very simple, if you didn’t want to be rude or hurt me, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.

I used to think that not lending my books made me weird. Maybe it does, but I like the way I am. I have made peace with it after seeing how people borrow books but don’t even read. They forget to return on time. And then I have to be awkward to ask for my own book back, which isn’t fair. I put a lot of thought and care into buying my books. I use my hard-earned money to get those, and I care for books because they are precious to me. So, no, I don’t like lending my books. My daughter will inherit my books when I’m gone. Until then, they are all mine.

Well, dear blog, that was a long list, right? I think we all have our idiosyncrasies, which make us unique. This is me, the flawed, slightly broken, yet whole me and I have never been more me than I am now. Until next time then, dear blog.

Ciao.