Disanticipation Diaries: 12th April, 2015: Carry Forward

Tuesday 14 April 2015

12th April, 2015: Carry Forward

Its the same old shit again. Same old. Nothing has changed. Oh wait. One thing has changed. I didn't miserably and hopelessly fall for a guy I can never have. I didn't go through those months of Single White Female psycho (e)motions. So I guess my depression didn't have an tangible excuse to manifest itself in all its melodramatic glory. That way this winter was actually quite sane. So yay. Pat me on my back. Clap clap clap. Whatever.

The insane thing that did happen instead was, long story short: I decided to channel all this abundance of love that I have to give, towards something more practical. I decided to adopt puppies. Two cute little pee monsters. Never felt more like a parent. Suddenly all the residual depression was gone. First week one of them died of congenital defect. Devastated, but decided to gather myself up to tale care of the other one. For three weeks, my life revolved around him. I forgot everything else. Then he also dropped dead of the same malady as his sister. And it was all over. Little did I know life had a strange way of throwing up depression all over my face the moment I decided to swallow it all down for a change.

But I didnt let it deter me. A month later once I recuperated from my grief, I decided to foster two more puppies. Older ones this time. I needed a closure. I needed to feel like what its like to be a parent. Without the sorrow of losing a child. It was amazing. Crazy madness. They destroyed my furniture, bedding endless slippers. But so SO much love and affection. They went on ahead to a better foster where they will be better taken care of. I am still not ready to adopt again. I can't live with fear of loss which has been so deeply ingrained in me...

***

Well summers are here again. And nothing has really changed. I'm still lonely. I'm still cranky. I'm still quite fucked up. And I have no vaguest idea what I am doing with my goddamn life.

Well. There's one idea. If I can't get my shit together by the end of this year,I have no wish to drag it any further. My energy is depleting. There's no motivation or interest to replenish it. There's no joy. It has to come to an end. Before it gets painfully unbearable any further. I need to take a bow with grace.

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What on Earth?

Well. This is probably going to be another short lived spawn of a whimsical mind. I am a gay and genderqueer person, living in Delhi since birth. I am a hard core romantic. Make it ROMANTIC. I grew up imagining a fifties daydream of that larger than life kind of a man in my life, a cottage somewhere in the outskirts of the hills (location kept changing from Shimla to Mussoorie to Dharmshala), two kids and a dog living a quaint little small town life. Yes, somehow it was very convenient to daydream of such inspite of all the oppression, regression and homophobia that surrounded me like hounds for the most part of it.

Over the years I went through massive phases of coming out, accepting my gender, giving up my hair, falling for every other unavailable person. But one thing which never changed was the heroine shot of romanticizing the idyllic future. The details and forms changed and evolved, but at the very core the anticipation to find The Love never changed.

I am 26 now. I have never dated. I have never been in a relationship. I have never even had a fling. My crotch hurts with the weight of the ginormous balls I had to muster up to admit this last year. And now that half my twenties are over I'm trying to cushion myself against the disappointment of life not turning out to be what you imagined for yourself when you hit 30. I'm starting to convince myself that it's not gonna happen. I need to learn to be alone. Be comfortably alone.

I have plenty of friends who would actually never let me be alone technically. But when I finish deadlines at 2am and am about to crash, there is that brief moment when it just suddenly drops into an uncomfortable vacuum of utter silence. And the only thing that clangs like giant cymbals in the hills is that sudden excruciating pang of loneliness. Sometimes I break down. Sometimes I sigh and shake my head in resignation. And then lay in bed and wait for another day.

So if I manage to actually update this blog regularly, then this would be just another one of those blogs that fester this internet. Whiny, 20 something angst full of cynical pessimism and short-sightedness. My friends are tired of my whining. But I need somewhere to whine where no one knows me. And the oblivion of anonymity that this blogosphere is, is where I shall vent it all out. And if you have a problem with that, then I would sincerely suggest you to take the problem, roll it up in a cylindrical shape, lube it up and shove it up yours.

Thank you very much.

LLO