10 to 26 - Dead Butterflies

Saturday, September 02, 2017

I'm a big birthday baby. Which is to say that I am shamelessly obsessed with birthdays and ridiculously fuss about my own day. The kind of effort and nonsense people do for their weddings, I try and make the same about my birthday every fucking year.

Things were okay till when I was in school. It was almost a pardonable offence. In college, fewer people gave fucks about my nonsense but the fucks given were quality material. The friends I made catered to my whims and fancies and one time threw a fantastic surprise party. In short, they were onboard with my crap.

College to college, I've had a range of parties, crazy house parties, lame house party, sober house party, pizza party, no-party, drink wine and cry about braces party...you get the drift. In some odd, twisted way, the party I have had set the tone for the year to proceed.

So, pardon my superstition but last year, I had the best party. All my close friends brought my birthday in together. I had cake from my favourite place, I looked like a million bucks (complete with nude stilletoes) and the works. It was understated, chic and annoying- very carefully crafted version of me in a night. I would like to believe we all had fun.

Now that I'm under a fortnight away, I'm truly in a fix. While I don't want to do nothing on my birthday this year, I also don't want this superstition to overtake my happiness. As it is, the work is not quite working out, people are losing it by the minute. I've switched my head off to the point that I curled up and lay in my bed for over two hours without exchanging as much a word or thought. Eyes opened and stared at the ceiling, just to come to terms with how work is progressing and what is my next plan.

I hate not being in control but in the last two years, all that I've been able to do is when I'm not in control. While, I don't know where I'm headed or how long can I take shit from people at work, I don't want to know the answers to the questions. Each time I come close to solving my problems, they only seem to aggravate.

It really feels like a rant tonight. Not the way to set the tone to my birthday month.

Here we are, here is what's up.

My will to live has depleted to a point that I had no lists to handout to my parents when they left for vacation. I'm usually a person who has lists made on hourly basis for things to do-buy-see-eat. I'm quite fucking dead inside and if there's one thing I can blame, it's my job.

The exhaustion/tipping point is near and unfortunately colliding with my birthday. It's been a year of learning, hustling and getting my hands dirty with things I've never done before. This year marked a period of learning to shut my mind, not speaking my heart and definitely not using my emotions. All I've done is to use my brain, pick skills- from negotiation to arriving at the first step of diplomacy. While it's a long road home, chances are, I'll snap, break and combust at the first poke now. I've had my share of shit from everyone. One year worth of frustration is pouring out. As much as I gave myself two years, the people I work with have truly left no stone unturned to press all the wrong buttons inside of my head, together. It's like trying to defuse a time bomb but instead, you set it on.

I see a period of 60 days but then I also see my sanity not lasting that journey. One of these days, I'm going to be poor again and will have no fucks to give until I put myself into something which pays me nothing and drives me to an extent where I take this bullying and sadistic orders from a moron in exchange of pittance.

I've been told at 25, this is real life.

Somehow, I have sympathy for people who publically put things like "I don't work, I'm daddy's princess." Atleast they know very well what they want, as opposed to people like me who continue with this because we truly don't know what's working and what's not.

A friend tried explaining me that how a job is an okay transaction since in exchange of abuse, they pay me money. I thought so much and thought hard but in my head, there's a paradise, a just world where things are not inherently bad and people are kind. That idea prevents me from taking the abuse seriously on daily basis. That, there, is my downfall.

I'll take the next ten days to be ever so grateful for the year I've had. Am I looking forward to the next 365 after that? Hell no. Not one bit. Am I looking forward to my birthday, fuck yes. Somethings shouldn't have to change. Birthdays being the reason of happiness, is on the top.

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