~ Call An Optimist, She's Turning Blue. (8)

The details are clear, vivid. Most of them, at least. The high was undeniable. The rush was insane. I haven't brought out the purple notebook in ages. Turns out I do not need that to remember the bits and pieces. The purple one was full of happy thoughts. Happy happenings. One week or so. The pages ran out at that point.


Then began the blue notebook. I had a naive, annoying name for it. It hadn't seemed so annoying then. So, yeah. The blue one. Beginning with the second week. The discomfort. The shoving of chairs - an action that had seemed gallant for a fleeting moment - then, with every passing thought, it all seemed more foreign, uncomfortable. But it was okay, right? A small price to pay?
No, it wasn't. The looks on the faces of those dear to me were new, taken aback, disheartened.

In my current flurry of thoughts, a particular memory keeps whirling around. The sad face of a friend I had known since I was five. A defeated face. I could tell. I wish I had at least apologized out loud for the trouble being caused because of me. But I didn't. Why? I'm not sure. A part of it was fear, the other may have been the lost habit of communicating with people the way I should have. I mouthed a timid "Sorry." And he smiled. No defeat in the smile. It was almost nonchalant. With a wave, he dismissed my apology, putting on a brave face. He assured me it was nothing and that it would be over in a matter of minutes. I smiled back, very slightly. I wish I had done more than that, but there was no way of knowing what terror might befall from a proper, full smile. And I was a pathetic girl. And a pathetic excuse of a friend. Which made sense, because I wasn't a friend. Not really.

 And there was that time under the retreating afternoon sun , when the call rang out for everyone to stand in prayer - me being shoved away and veiled and pulled back in, all the while the Arabic words beautiful in the background, waiting to be shown respect, but getting none. I wish I had done something. I had tried. I wish I had tried harder, even if it came to nails digging in with an intention to hurt. But I didn't do that. Of course I didn't.

A statue would be built in my memory, you said? Because someone as dishonorable as myself deserved a monument? Isn't that what you said, that statement accompanied by a few words beginning with S and W, poor synonyms of the word dishonorable? Yeah, that's what you said.

I think the blue notebook is with my mom now. Or maybe not anymore. I don't know. I don't ask.

~ You Just Refuse To Bend, So I Keep Bending Till I Break. (8)

You need to like who you are. That doesn't mean liking everything about yourself. But in the general sense, you need to like the person you are. We all love ourselves in one way or another. I know I love myself enough to run away from scary dogs on the streets or to stay away from the electric socket that always sparks up a little every time someone touches it. But that's not exactly the kind of self-love I'm talking about here.

It's important to do things for yourself and all. And if you're someone who is always feeling small, then you need to work on it. But if you're someone who only feels small when staying with a certain person or a certain group of people, then maybe you need to start questioning your choice of companions.
I have a friend. At several points in life, I have felt pushed around by her. And then eventually, I stopped getting sad about it and just went with the flow. I stopped getting too worked up about whether I was letting her down, and I no longer put myself on guilt trips. And we do just fine now.

But, sadly, you can't do that with everyone. You can't zone out parts of everyone. It just doesn't work that way. And when it doesn't, I guess you need to start thinking about zoning out the entire person. Completely. Out of your life. Not easy.
I mentioned this before, but I need to emphasize on how tired I am of finding extreme things everywhere. Nothing comfortably in the middle. Perhaps I'm discovering new things about myself now. I'm the kind of person for whom the little things make immeasurable difference. I'm the kind of person who listens to and remembers every little detail (and not JUST because of my creepily precise memory) about what someone likes or dislikes or has been craving for lately. I'm the kind of person who gets reminded of that individual when I come across something that he/she mentioned liking or wanting. I'm just kind of person who won't feel fully at rest till I have been able to give the thing to him/her, provided that it's within my ability. The thing could be anything, starting from one single cupcake from a confectionery to a loved book.
About two months ago, my student informed me that my favorite book was now available in town. I already own a copy of this (God bless some people who go the extra mile to give others what they really want), but I know of a certain friend of mine who'd have loved to have a hard copy. So, even though I was barely in regular contact with this friend, I became determined to get it from the bookstore and drop it off at her place the next morning, even if she would be asleep at that hour. But then shit happened. I was very disappointed and my enthusiasm faltered. I'd STILL like to give her the book someday, though.

I have no idea where I was going with all that blabber. I guess I'm just trying to say that I've always been a bit like this, but I never really noticed it with significance before. It's not that I don't like this side of me; I do. But it becomes a problem when it comes to people I cannot partially zone out. This whole . . listening and remembering thing becomes kind of an important expectation. And it bugs me a lot. It's probably not even fair, but it does.

I realize that this post is all over the place, and does not go in one particular direction or even make a point, really. But I'm glad I'm using my blog to spill thoughts again - raw and unfiltered.