I tell myself that I am a big girl in this big world and I can face any curve ball that life throws in my way. But here I am.. Sitting with my notebook and pen. One of my acquaintances took her life a couple of days ago. Well, I won’t lie, a part of me understands her reason. For once, she thought only about herself. Though I wish she had taken help for her depression. You don’t need it in writing to know if someone’s is suffering from depression. I suffer from it too from time to time. It got severe a few times. But as I don’t believe in the afterlife, I thought I would never get another shot in life. This is not a game where you get several lives. So I decided to help myself. That’s a story for another time. As I was saying a part of me understood her reason; the other part of me was completely heartbroken. We weren’t close but it took a few days to process. I know we live in a big bad world and to some this is all nothing but a complete nonsense. But I get completely shattered every time I hear a news like this. It’s like part of me has died with the deceased. A few days ago, I was sitting in the emergency ward in a hospital. People were dying like fleas and I didn’t even flinch. My friend commented that I was dead from the inside. But only I knew what was going inside of me. I was completely shattered. It’s hard to express my feelings. Or I just don’t want people to see what’s going inside of me. I even crack jokes when I’m tensed. When I was 10, I almost lost my brother. The whole ground was shaking beneath me. I would give anything not to feel like that again. But since then it has been easier to connect with the pain of others. It feels like a curse. I don’t even know why my heart does its crushing drama when I hear about something like that. I know in order to survive in this world, I should always put my strong face on and choke out my emotions. But emotions.. Would I be a human without them?
I knew I wanted to be a writer since I was 16. No one knows this or didn’t know this. Where I am since I would have been called delusional because it is not considered as a “real job”. I figured that I couldn’t do what I love so why pursue it? I chose business instead. I hated it the least than other subjects. I am one of those people who is not very good at verbally expressing what is eating them. Last year, I was feeling so restless. I didn’t know what’s there left for me to live anymore and I am only 20. I downloaded a writing app because it looked pretty cool. I started writing my first book. I have been thinking about the plot for some years now. Now it’s only half done like 50 pages. Truth to be told, the first few chapters came out pretty bad which I’m going to rewrite. Sometimes I even wait more than a month to write a chapter; sometimes I write two in two days. I don’t know if I’ll be able to complete it. And if I do, I don’t know if it will ever be published. My story is based in New York city which seemed fitting and I don’t even live in the USA. And as I have mentioned again and again that my native language isn’t English. As they say, the mind has no boundaries. Truth is I don’t even think about getting it published it right now or completing the whole book. I just focus on the next chapter. I don’t what lies in the future for me. But that is the beautiful nature of the future. It’s like I’ve got a thirst for it now and it probably stopped me from turning into a nutjob.
I know we live in the era of technology. I cannot even spend a day without my gadgets. Come on we can do almost anything by a blink of an eye. But nothing beats the old pen and paper for me. Seeing those black letters on a white paper gives me a strange satisfaction which thousands of writing apps are unable to provide. Well, at least that is the case for me. When I hold my pen, It’s like my brain stops working and my hand starts to write anything automatically. But then again, my hands are not still familiar with the keyboard even though I have been playing games on computer since childhood. I know I sound like a total lunatic. But it’s true. Nothing beats the pen and paper for me. Thankfully, I aren’t a science major or I’d have been shown the door on the first day of my job.
That day a neighbor was complaining about how cruel the world is. According to her, everyone is a devil of course without a horn and a tail. I had to disagree with her, of course. I am probably not as old as she is, but I have met my share of people. Most of them were very nice and helpful. I remember when a complete stranger helped me during a riot; how someone arranged my certificates on the day of my university admission when I was a mess. The list goes on. All I am trying to say is, how can we make an issue out of someone’s flaws and overlook his strengths? No one can be a saint. On that note, a saint is a saint because people chose to overlook his flaws. We all know the story of six blind men and an elephant. They all described the elephant differently. They all described certain parts of the elephant. They all thought they were right, but the face is, an elephant is made of big ears, a giant trunk, pillar like legs and an enormous body just like flaws and strengths make a complete human. Aren’t we all like the elephant here?
What happens after you have finished a good book? Let me tell you what happens to me. I start imagining myself in the same position as the author. Recently I read “The Glass Castle: A memoir” by Jeannette Walls. While I was reading the book; I couldn’t shake the feeling of being miserable. It was as if I lived in Welch wherever that is and I was sitting right in the middle of the author’s half broken house. It felt like I was invisible and living among them. I could literally feel their struggle and heartbreaks. Even though I was reading the novel comfortably sitting in my room which I’m currently redecorating. It was as if the paintings on my walls were torn out. Something is terribly wrong with me, I know! I started my blog just after reading the book. I still feel terrible from the inside thinking what people go through in their lives. Well, anyone can clearly notice the after effect of The Glass Castle in my writings. But in the end, the book teaches us how not to give up even if you have the most miserable life. Cheers to that!
Hi, I am Afrin. And no, I wasn’t named after the nasal spray (probably not). My mom liked this name because it seemed different or so I was told. I am 20 years old. This whole concept of blogging is still alien to me. I never expected I would ever write a line except for my class notes. I started writing since last two-three months. Probably it’s one of my “Jake of all trades, master of none” things. But when I write something on a plain white paper, the black letters on it blow a breeze to my heart. It’s a way for me to keep myself from exploding by my own thoughts (I overthink everything). I don’t write masterpieces, I know. But hey, I am still very much new to the whole concept of writing. I mostly write about my life or what I think about it. I know I could write a personal journal or something. But what’s the fun in that? My first language isn’t English, but I am going to cut the crap, “Oh please forgive me for my grammatical mistakes.” I love travel, culture, music, good books and anything that catches my eyes. The other reason for me to start a blog is, I love meeting new people. Meeting people from all over the world seems refreshing, doesn’t it?
I am the youngest child of the family. To some, it might seem like a dream came true. But trust me, it’s the farthest thing from that. Do you know why some parents pamper their youngest kid more? Because they already have planned the kid’s whole life. The older ones decide a certain career standard, which the younger ones have to follow blindly. If your older siblings earn a high salary doing a desk job in a big corporation, it is a sin if you want to be an artist or something else. In today’s world money is considered everything. I agree money is very important. But so is our souls. It might sound a bit weird but my biggest fear is getting old behind a desk or worse die in one. The society is insane. Posting those “live your dreams” posts on social networking sites doesn’t really change anything, does it? We have become machines which are easily replaceable.
It was an unforgettable evening. I just dumped someone or got dumped – I wasn’t sure. The worst part was, we broke up via text message just exactly like we started dating. It wasn’t going to work anyway. The guy had his own issues and eventually became a bully. I felt like as if someone had slapped me hard on my face. It gets scary being a single again if you’ve been in a relationship for a long time.
What happens after a break up, is the worst part. The pink pajamas were back. I made my mom watch twilight with me which made me even more depressed. No offense to team twilight. I’m not just cool enough. Neither my family nor my friends knew how to deal with me as I wouldn’t open up to them. There was always a deep pain in my chest. I had been such a Disney princess always dreaming about my perfect guy. I hated being alone. Though chocolates helped. I used to cry in the streets when no one was looking. I was dying from inside, but I wrapped my heart in a paper so people wouldn’t see the bruises. I buried my head in movies and TV series. The funny thing was, some of our mutual friends were like “Team Her,” which seemed comforting for a while. After some months, there was that eureka moment when I just snapped myself out of that mood. I felt like a bird finally getting back its freedom. I started going out with friends and shopping. Mark my words: There’s nothing in this world that a new pair of shoes can’t cure.
I tried to look at the bright side. Frankly speaking, I had always been a selfish girl thinking about myself and myself only. But that incident made me understand what it is like to have your heart broken. So I learnt to understand other’s feelings and care for them. The pain stopped after a while. I kind of became a better person and I’m still trying to make myself better every day. So, sometimes heartaches aren’t as bad after all.
I might have a thousand memories to be happy about. However, I will never forget about this particular one.
In 2010, before my high school, I went on a holiday with my sister. It might sound like no big deal to everyone else but it was to me. My parents never let me go anywhere without them, but that time they did.
This time, we went to Cox’s Bazar beach. It is in Bangladesh. Heard it is the longest beach in the world and I was curious to see what the fuss was all about. My sister’s office arranged the whole trip. I was so excited that I couldn’t even eat.
The journey was bitter pleasant. We almost died in a car accident. However, luckily, we did not. I sat in the middle of the empty road for hours taking photos until they fixed the car.
When we were close to the city, we saw rose gardens beside the road and occasionally houses of aboriginal people. Just before we entered the city, we saw the ocean. We were coming downwards from a hill road so it gave us an illusion kind of like being in an ocean. It was super amazing.
After a while, we checked into a rest house. After changing, we rushed to the beach. Actually, there are several beaches in one giant beach. It is so big that they had to name the portions. I had to know what the fuss was all about. It is so big that you cannot see the end of it. It was so calm and beautiful. Well of course, you don’t get facilities here like Miami and bikini probably isn’t a good choice of clothing here. Nevertheless, it is worth it.
Some kids were selling seashells. Their age would not be more than 6-7 years and the word “poverty” invisibly tattooed right on their faces. But, I don’t think I have ever seen anyone so happy without having much. Their faces give you hope to live. As if they were screaming from the inside, “you always have something to be happy about.” I bought everything they were selling. Surprisingly, they wanted to take photos with me. I never thought kids like me. Last time I had to deal with a kid, threw mud on my face. After a while, there was a sunset. It was nothing like I’ve ever seen.
After a while, we returned to our hotel with exhaustion, but with a face-splitting grin on our faces. I hate seafood but my sister made me taste it. She said something about “Cox’s Bazar special” or something like that. It wasn’t that bad.
The next day, we started for the St. Martin Island. It was a stormy day, but we wouldn’t have the opportunity again. Our boat was about to sink for few times but thankfully it didn’t. By that time, I was convinced that accidents follow me everywhere. Like in the movies, there was a wine bottle was floating on the water. I wondered if it had a message in it. After a few hours, we reached our destination. It was very different from Cox’s Bazar. This beach had its own kinds of beauty. It is like one of those beaches made out of rocks. But it was not. It was a coral beach. Actually, they call it “The Coral Beach” in Bangladesh. Despite of almost dying, we were very happy. The coconuts were huge. When we were doing our lunches, I couldn’t help but wonder how they cooked it. The food was delicious. Thankfully, it was chicken.
We saw some kids were selling corals here like the ones we saw on our first day. These kids are super happy. Like before, I bought everything they were selling. Personally, I throw away seashells and corals, which I was going to do with the lot I bought. But a few bucks help these kids to buy their food for a day or two. So when it wasn’t a big deal for me, it was a big deal to them.
After staying for 2 hours, the boat crew warned us to hurry as there was a storm coming. Thankfully, we made it back before the storm could catch us. I just realized that time, my sis was afraid of boat rides. She was especially afraid for me. My family thinks accidents are following me too. Well, thank God I am not the only one who thinks that.
We returned home after staying for three days as my sis had her office. She is in a big position, hence I could only guess the work load. After coming home, I thought of throwing away the seashells and coral several times. But for some reason, I didn’t. Instead, I washed them and kept them with me as a reminder of this trip. And I was right. My sis got too busy with her work afterwards that it was my last trip with her. But it was an unforgettable one. And, the seashells are still with me.
Have you ever sat in the exam hall and trying to find the answer of a particular question? I bet you did. Life is just like an exam hall isn’t it? We don’t know the answers to the questions we’d like to have answers to.
What is the purpose of our existence? Are we just supposed to live it out and see our end? Are we all supposed to change the world? If yes, then who will get to live it? Who gets to decide who gets what? How does God decide where to send us or in which country? Why are some of us poor and some of us rich if God is just? Why am I being called an atheist if I question everything written in the scripture? Why am I getting bullied or being called gay if I support gay rights? Then I don’t support racism either.. So am I black? Why can’t I think of the people of Ghana if we’re not from the same country? Why am I to hate Jews if I’m a Muslim? How does the world work? Why are these so many nations instead of one? Why do we spend half our lives in school to prove our worth? Is it worth it? Does bad grade mean a worthless person or a creative one? Why does entertainment related people earn millions where teachers and doctors earn less? Which job is more important? Should I buy a new pair of shoes or feed an unfed? Which would be more peaceful? Why do we kill people, whereas we can’t imagine the loss of our own loved ones? Are politics more valuable than human lives? Can’t I love everyone except for my family? Why do we have to do what parents want from us? What do we want for ourselves? Are we okay with how our lives are going on or do we want to change it? If yes, why can’t we? Why feminism is being confused with being sex symbols? Why can’t we all be wrong and all be right? How does everyone define life? Why do have to pretend to be happy? Why can’t we take happiness as a mood instead of a destination? Why some us end our lives after a setback or heartache? What is a life worth? When do we do something just for our own?