05-01-2023 00:18

I remember watching Devil Wears Prada and thinking, "Ah! You can learn any work on job and then can figure things out in the way?" I remember watching Romance Is A Bonus Book and feeling reassured that if you have some skills and a wish to learn, you can make it. 

I thought things were that simple. So when I left my permanent boring backend job and refused another backend job paid double, I thought I can figure things out and finally get to a job that can make me happy. Well... I don't think it's that simple anymore. 

When I was young, I always wanted to be a writer. The first name of this blog was also, "Just A Wannabe Writer". Someone fed me with a lot of useless boast saying, "why do call yourself a wannabe? You write so well. You'll be a writer in no time." This year marks the 9th year since that sentence was said to me. Guess what? I am still not a writer. But as sad as that sounds, I have accepted the truth. I do not have the aptitude to be a writer. But I always wanted to be a part of publishing industry. So when I got the chance to start again, I wanted to be someone who can help writers like me. Someone who can find people like me who truly want to tell their stories their own way. And then... I applied for editorial internships. Haha. I never heard back.

When I was young, I thought I could be anything. I wanted to be a lawyer so I could help innocent people. I wanted to be a teacher so I can help children like me who couldn't fit it or have to go face to face with their traumas every day. And then I wanted to be a reporter to tell people the truth of the world. Then a writer and then finally, I realized I can be nothing so I should just try to be happy.

I failed miserably. My poems are always sad. Someone told me to publish them but I don't even know how to get it noticed. I thought of self publishing but I don't have any audience. I think of so many things and I can do nothing. I am miserable because that's just how I am.

Once upon a time in my life, I just wanted people to smile when they read my writings. And then I couldn't smile writing them. I can only write when I am overwhelmed with sadness and I think somewhere it's a good thing I am not a writer. Else, I will torture myself to write something every single day. 

I often look back at my childhood and I don't know what the hell I was doing back then. I was above average at everything but perfect at none. I was proud of it back then but now I know the meaning of why my teacher's "you are okay at everything" stung so much. It was because I belonged to no place. I was everywhere but nowhere complete. I still don't know how to be.

"Aspiration is stupid. You will die at the end so why does what you wanna be in life matters?" If it doesn't why do I keep questioning myself? Why am I not content with just earning and then enjoying weekends? Why did I seek success and popularity from my writing? I still can't figure things out. And sadly, I don't even know how to. I don't even know how to end this post. But I guess it's okay.

킅.

05/01/2023 02:17 AM  

Hi. This is Megha.

To be honest, it feels so odd to write here after such a long time. It has been more than 5 years, I think. This place started as a place where I can talk about my depression and help those who might still be suffering. I wanted people to have someone who can be the voice guiding them on how they can get out of the chamber that's filled with darkness. I wanted to be someone that I never had.

It feels odd but when I needed someone the most, I came back. I hope I can still stay here. I hope this temporary haven can still keep me safe.

When I look back at the past, so many things have changed. Earlier, I couldn't cry even when I was sad. But now I cry even when I am happy. I think I am broken somewhere but I think it's okay and I am still pretty functional. I always wanted to have my stories, my writing be read but now, I don't know. I don't know if I am lucky enough to be recognized. And I don't know if I am even good enough. However, writing saved me. So, I don't want to stop.

When I was still a teen, I dreamt big. I wanted to be famous. I wanted to be recognized. I was happy when people said I write good. It makes sense why I would be happy but it was wrong of me and I have to accept that. I always wondered how many views I had. I always wondered what people would like to read. but now, I just want to write what I feel.

I want to say something and I hope it only reaches those who can understand and perhaps feel comforted by it. When I took the name of Aazaad, all I wanted was for people to read my words, no matter how dark they were, and feel that someone gets them and they are not alone. I hope if my words from now on will reach someone, it will be to only those who need them.

Thank you for anyone who has been a part of this blog. Thank you for encouraging me when I was young. It made me feel I was good at something. Thank you for reading the stories I wrote no matter how cringe they were. Thank you if my words ever made you feel something. Thank you for being there for me.

Also, I'll start telling you all my story from now on. So let's do our introductions again.

Hi. I am Megha. Nice to meet you. :)

Why am I single?