17. Hyderabad, India. girl.
I’m not sure what my sexuality is. More about this later.
I’m not sure what my sexuality is. More about this later.
I don’t really want that many friends on my f-list. OR... if you don’t mind me not commenting that much (or only commenting out of the blue like after four months or whatever) and changing usernames faster than the speed of light (well no, I seriously promise not to do that anymore).... and if you strike me as the most interesting person in the world and I’ve just got to have you on my friends list... but if when we’re emailing you become obsessed with yourself and take little to no notice of my life (so sue me if I have an ego, I can be pretty selfish sometimes too) and there I am trying to ask you about yours... well that doesn’t sound fair, does it? Heh. Nah I’m not that strict, but I’m trying to be now because I’m sick of cluttered up friends lists and not really many people I can actually connect with. So please, to sum it all up:
- try not to hate me if I don’t comment much
- email me only if you’re actually interested in me as well as yourself and are willing to ask about my life as well as talk about yours
- don’t add me if you want millions of comments and me reading your friends page every single day (there’s only one journal I check every single day, and she’s not even on my friends list... :( .....
- oh yeah. I forgot. Give me a VERY GOOD REASON for why I should add you if you’re male and over 23. I may or may not accept it, though.
- actually, if you say “I added you, add me back?” or “you’re cool, add me?” that just isn’t enough. give me some love, people. Tell me about yourself. I’d love to know who you are... maybe this sounds hypocritical, but it’s only when I start emailing you and you start getting obsessed with ONLY yourself that I get pissed off.
Buuuuut I love penpalling. I have as yet to find the perfect penpal. Maybe she/he doesn’t exist. Ah well, doesn’t mean I can’t try.
Music: Blehblahblehbleebluhblah. Like I give a shit. I can find a good song by practically anyone, except those horrible techno bands that sound like computers farting or some such shit. I don’t need to list out my musical tastes – though I do sometimes anyway – for you to like me. Suffice to say I can probably get high on two particular songs by Linkin Park at the moment. Oh, and I like Ani DiFranco sometimes. Not always though. And Michelle Branch, who I’m ashamed to say I discovered –now-. And all kinds of random stuff, including opera music and old blues and jazz and even some Bollywood stuff (though admittedly I like the more mellow stuff like Veer Zaara) – the love songs. I’m a sucker for romance, so to speak.
Movies I should write an entire paragraph in blufaloof speak for this. Hm. I love lesbian movies like Fucking Amal, Lost and Delirious, Kissing Jessica Stein, Loving Annabelle, Itty Bitty Titty Committee (that one’s like, teh shizzle! .... um, excuse me while I go barf internet speak... but it really is great.) And some random weird stuff that you’d never think I’d like, like Star Wars, the Matrix trilogy and so on. Mmhm mmhm. And chick flicks! Despite their stupidity, I can’t help loving them. What I DON’T like – horrible freakily almost-porn sleazy pathetic movies like Not Another Teen Movie. Strangely enough, I like Cruel Intentions.
TV Shows: Lalalalalala. I love Gossip Girl. So sue me. And Freaks and Geeks!!! Oh my fucking god. I love that show. And... mm I just recently started renting/downloading TV shows, so not much of anything else. I hate actually watching TV because of all the commercials.
Artists: Frida Kahlo, Georgia O’Keeffe, random artists on deviantart.com, almost nothing from the contemporary Indian art scene.... mm... can’t really remember names off the top of my head...
Books/Authors: Pages for You by Sylvia Brownrigg, Harry Potter, Empress of the World by Sara Ryan, Love Lessons and Vicky Angel by Jacqueline Wilson, loads of coming-of-age teen novels, Better than Running at Night by someone can’t remember the name, The Last of Her Kind by Sigrid Nunez, Anywhere But Here by Mona Simpson (did I get that right? it sounds wrong...), The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy... ehh bleeblahbloobleeblehblahblay.
Games/Sports/Anime/Manga: There’s a reason why I grouped this stuff together. Prejudice, bad experiences, whatever it is... I FUCKING LOATHE THESE THINGS. However, if you like them, I don’t have a problem. You can try to convince me to like them. Just please talk about a few other things as well.
I may be intolerant of many things, but I also have a surprisingly open mind. I’m pretty much an oxymoron, a paradox, a walking contradiction, whatever the hell you call it. I swear and blasphemize when I can... or when I’m angry. On the net I do it sometimes. Hm.
I hate people who cybersex with strangers. Or who basically are pedophiles or whatever looking for sex on the internet. Ugh. So lame. So sick.
I am inspired sometimes. By the oddest things. Remembering myself – the way I used to be. The way I wanted to be. I no longer know what I want to be. Maybe someday I’ll know, and I’ll be able to achieve it. Until then, I am just a (para)normal girl with (extra)ordinary thoughts. Or it could be the reverse. –I am just an (unobtrusively)weird girl who fancies she’s different.- I suck at defining myself and I’m not sure it’s necessary to try.
Sometimes I come off as amazing. Beautiful. Special. Unique. But then other times I fade into complacency. I fade into the space between reality and fantasy, and get lost. And then I get all emo-ish and start ranting about how nobody can find me. Sometimes I speak in metaphors but other times I just say everything frankly and get into a shitload of trouble for it. Half the time you’ll find me screaming at the immature guys in my class. Or should I say boys. Except it’s all futile screaming. They know I can be picked on easily.... *grvsdjaafjjhhd*
Who am I? The girl who wears huge headphones even though she has hearing aids and the hearing aids get clamped into my ears by the headphones and hurt my ears. The girl who’s always been self-conscious about her left hand because it has a deformed thumb and four tiny fingers on it without any joints. Um, it isn’t as bad as it sounds. The girl who attempted suicide over the tiniest of tiny fights (eh, I could rationalize, saying it was an amalgam of issues, but...) The girl who’s been labelled with a number of interesting disorders and traits of disorders (borderline personality disorder, borderline psychosis – according to the Rorschach test and the counsellor I thought I loved, hah!, obsessive-compulsive disorder – the only one they all agree on, major depression disorder, some kind of mood disorder, anger management problems, nymphomania – unless I remember incorrectly, well anyway, I’ve labelled myself with that I guess)... and who is now in the process of declaiming all those disorders, deciding that symptoms can’t be justified by disorders. I’m the girl who cut herself and tried to experiment with bulimia because she wanted to ‘see what it was like’ – well the cutting comes when I’m sad too, but I don’t do it anymore, and I hardly did it to begin with. I casually talk about this, as if for shock effect, but really it’s all pretty jarring for me as well. My history, albeit fascinating, is not something I’m proud of. It’s like this baggage I have to endlessly carry around. Heh. I’m being emo now.
Let’s see... I dress weirdly. Clashing colours and patterns. Plain and boring sometimes. Decidedly unfascinating. Classy when I feel like it and when I’ve got something nice. I love pretty clothes and elegant jewels. I hate sporty gear and tomboyish-looking clothes. I’m decidedly femme-ish though most of the time I just look ugly and nerdish. But then there are the times when I put on some makeup – foundation and some kohl and stuff – and I make my weird shooting-up short hair into some kind of fashion statement. I doubt I look good even then, but at least I manage to present myself as ‘cute’ in photos then. But with my glasses and my horrible picking-at-my-face habit (red marks all over my forehead!) – nahh. I look just plain AWFUL.
Okay that was a total rant about my looks. But anyway. I’m starting to sound preppy, but honestly I don’t care. I’m sick of these labels anyway.
I’m not always the girl who wants to have fun. I’m too intense for that, actually. I think too deeply and I overanalyze till I go crazy. I miss Swati, my first love and my once best friend. I miss good friends in general. They live all over the world it seems, anywhere but here. The friends I make here I can never seem to keep properly. Maybe, as Ellie says, I’m only looking for friends online because I don’t have any in real life. But so what. I like to talk to people. It’s just that I can’t connect with anyone here. This could be because I’ve tried to throw away every bit of my Indian-ness. Because I’m almost Hitler-esque when it comes to Asian cultures. I try to recognize my roots and acknowledge the good things about Indian culture, but... somehow I fail every time.
I’m a wannabe lesbian. This is what my friend Sania told me at first, but then she sort of got convinced that I’m not really a wannabe lesbian after all. I might actually be the real thing, so to speak. Heh. I don’t know. Wannabe or not, I know I have feelings for girls. Enough with the counsellors trying to tell me that it’s all obsessive-compulsive. Yes I know I get obsessive sexual thoughts. That doesn’t mean every single feeling of love/sexual attraction/lust/whatever the hell is redundant, worthless, nymphomaniacal and completely fake. Eh, I’m not going to prove I’m a lesbian. I’m not even sure. My sexuality remains undecided, undefined. I fall for guys too, stupid as they are. Immature lame shitholes. But.... I still miss my ex-boyfriend Avinash, despite how awful that relationship was. I still miss him, mmhm mmhm. Sania told me to be less vocal about my sexuality. In real life I’m probably a lot less vocal about anything than I am on the net, but I wish I could be vocal.
I’m crazy. I like to be crazy. If you fuck with me I’ll probably end up hurt. I probably won’t even know how to fuck you up back. I hate casualness, even though I can be really casual. Yet intensity isn’t all that great either. I like intensity mixed with fun. I think fun’s different from casual. I like candlelight and romance – I’m in love with love – I don’t think I’ve ever even had a taste of the real thing, though. I’m experienced enough for now – tried to have sex (don’t even ask about it... it has to do with my ex-bf being nervous, not getting hard enough etc), pressurized people into love, into sex maybe (but not completely, it’s not like I went and raped someone...)... and lost friendships because of it. I’ve been hurt, I’ve hurt others, I can’t forgive myself, I get horrible thoughts, I think about the most weird fucked up things (incest, bestiality etc) and then think I’m going crazy because I’m thinking of those things. I don’t act on the weird thoughts, luckily. But they still scare me. I wish I was fearless. Except maybe I’d like to be afraid of death. I need that survival instinct. A little more of it, anyway.
So. If you got through all that... and still want to be friends.... add me. Who knows. We might end up soulmates.