Okay, it’s time to change the happy-emoticon-mood and get into the depressed mode to be able to write an entry here. We finally move to this blog entry’s subject matter. The thought process began when a very good friend of mine asked me how much I had experienced out of the expectations of my first year in college. The question left me in deep state of coma and, perhaps, embarrassed also to some extent. The description of his eventful and a-hell-lot-of-first-time-in-life experiences had preceded this moment of truth. I was blank. I did not have a flip lifeline here to change the question.
I weighed my options. Should I lower my so-thought-off expectations and compare or should I brag about stuffs that I thought had happened in some imaginary parallel universe? I got out by my frequent excuse of “nothing-much-I-have-to-say” and just a plain “I don’t remember much about expectations but it was a good yaar”. There isn’t even a blah blah blah to follow because no more words I had said further.
The truth. Man, I did nothing. Not a single worthwhile thing I did, nothing out-of-the-blue happened to me, not a fucking mentionable stuff happened. Starting from the answer to the very first question of every guy I meet outside my college; “Koi girlfriend patai kya?” Dude, hell no! I came here with rotten luck and it will probably suck more. You can laugh some more, Oh non-existing Lord.
I had my dumb ass in front of my third-grade laptop whole of the year playing counter strike. I don’t disgust the fact that I spent almost all my ‘time-of-your-life’ time playing CS because involving in it was probably the only way which could shut my mind from other heartbreaking things in my life. Still, random people joined my server at 2 in the morning and humiliated my game-play.
I could not manage to play decent guitar and just had it ready to distribute for the greater good of the society there and neither could I master petty things like Photoshop (no offences to the god software). I did not even become a decent ‘ghot’ to perform well in my academics. What little I have to boast about, would probably be my photography. And here comes my laziness, to pick up my camera and get my fat ass out in the sun, to ruin the party.
There’s probably more to disgust myself but I suppose this ending would do for me. Apparently, I mastered the art of being a loser. You wrote a very apt song for me 3 Doors Down.
I am happy I realized one thing. I have social anxiety or social phobia as you may call. Not the whole of the disorder; just one trait: the fear of expression.
P.S.: No part of this is intentionally pointed towards you my “very good friend”. I would just like to thank you for giving me a new blog entry.
You ASS. What's stopping you from doing shameless things during OASIS and BOSM.
ReplyDeleteIt's ridiculously fun.