hope is strange

hope is really weird, the way that it kind of just appears and disappears as it pleases. 
some days I really hope that I’m going to get into Penn and everything will be fine and ____ will tell me he loves me…the usual jazz, and some days I’m so disappointed as I relive my failure in all it’s hideousness. I imagine US Admissions people laughing at how positively STUPID my essays sound, how naive I am that I thought I could get into a place like Penn. Basically, laughing at me and my insecurities. I’ll never ever go to Penn and I’m never ever going to find some hot indian-american to fall in love with me and my life will never ever go the way I want it to 😦
I like to torture myself like this :/ 
Kaash ke yun ho jaave
Neend meri khul jaave
Aur koi kehde humse
Ye sapna tha

breaking point

Is it important for someone to know you properly before they love you/you are able to love them? I’ve been going through the most gruelling round of prelims, and they are wearing me down immensely. I use this pronoun for the exams and for my parents these days. They never ever say anything that is useful to me/eases my stress/makes me feel better in any way. All I hear is ‘how was your exam’/’why wasn’t it good’/kya re kyun aisa karti hai, as if I ASKED for a bad paper/wanted to do badly. It’s infuriating. Yesterday my father said something that hurt me to my very core. CORE. He said “your priorities…I really don’t know what you are doing” and did this little head shake that he always does that shames and angers me more than he’ll ever know.

And in that moment I was feeling so shitty and sleepy and unprepared and frankly so STUPID, and what he said just increased all those negative feelings tenfold. It’s not like I don’t agree with what he says, it’s just his AWFUL timing all the time and he always says these things just when I am feeling my worst and then I hate myself even more than usual. I would just appreciate even the remarks IF he would do something to help me in my revision or do something for me in general. I guess I’ll be the forgotten girl forever then (something I was thinking about today- even those who I loved most didn’t put me in first place. It was always the oldest grandchild, or the first boy, or the one who lived close and had skin the colour of cream) Always second best, never EVER good enough.

I was just thinking yesterday that even though others criticise me, nobody will ever judge and mock me as I do myself, in my head, every time I see my stupid face in the mirror. I am my biggest critic and my worst enemy, and it kills me that nobody knows or cares enough to know. That’s a whole other argument in itself- must I tell people for them to care, or should I just expect them to know me. I understand the need to open up when it comes to friends or possible SOs or whatever but these are my PARENTS. If they don’t know me, don’t understand, then how can I expect anyone else to?

In all this general shittiness though, a teacher was praying for us before the physics paper and he said this thing- from the bible but I feel comfort comes from every faith- “all things work for the good for those who love Him”. So I’m trying to do some work, salvage what I can, and leave the rest up to God. He fixes me, even as His children break me.


At the moment I’m listening to a song by Taking Back Sunday called Nothing at All, and I re-read a quote I’d posted on here “Oh God, help me be focused on you, and not on your creation. As they break my heart, and you fix it.” Hasn’t God always fixed me, without fail? Even when I didn’t believe in him, or didn’t see the point in God, or as I still grapple with the conflicting faiths that plague me? 

I guess I go through life trying to be thankful in all things, but rarely ever succeeding. What’s the point of being thankful only AFTER everything has been worked out for you? Of all the things I’ve had to do, being thankful has been the hardest. How do I thank the same God who loves me, but took away my grandmother? How can I love the same God who created the people that hurt me to my very core? How do I remember to be thankful when I lie in my bed, silently sobbing when another bout of sadness and grief hits me like a tidal wave? Maybe I’m being dramatic, overreacting. 

It’s just hard to accept the ‘destiny’ argument, the ‘everything happens for a reason’ argument. Maybe I’m being punished for being six years old and thinking what I thought that day. Maybe I’m being punished for not caring enough/being too afraid to call in 2010. And the weird thing is that I feel I should be punished. I’m a really bad person, and that’s probably why the quote hits me so hard every time. I am the worst person, and you fix me nonetheless. Even when I don’t deserve to be fixed. Even when I deserve to have my heart broken, for loneliness to crush me. 

Thank you thank you thank you. I’m so glad, even though I am so incredibly