There are two things I am trying to achieve from this post, first I am trying to drop all pretense and write about myself, my life and things that matter to me, the way they matter to me. Second, I want to be able to spill my guts more often than like once in a millennium.
I was recently, heck today, told that I lack depth in my understanding of certain things. It was being implied that I only have the partial knowledge of “How?” and no clue of “Why?”.
Well, I was pissed as I usually get when I am told that I lack anything, even if it is something as natural as absence of fully functional mammary glands. I mean even though I am the male of my species, and was not designed to have them, you better not tell me that. I am more likely to get offended for your pointing it out than appreciating the fact that you can distinguish between the males and females of my species.
Anyway, as pissed as I was, I also felt a deeper sense of relief for being told that. No matter, how angry I am right now and how much I hate the guts of a roadkill, I know it from inside that whatever it was that was pointed out, was true. In all senses of the word. However, the rationalization that my mind draws to compensate for the feeling of humiliation, inadequacy and incompetence is: “damn the circumstances in which I grew up.” As if I was born to a farmer living off his two acres of land near the Line of Control separating Pakistan Occupied Kashmir from India owned Kashmir.
The relief that I felt for was – I feel it more burdensome to have people believe that I am greater than I am. But then, making it clear that I am not greater than I am, I feel very bad that I am not. You see! That is the paradox. I mean I want to be great. And I want people to think I am great. However, I know I am not great. Though I can imitate greatness by keeping the pretense, I get tired of keeping the pretense eventually. And then people automatically realize that I am not great. So, it is better not to pretend to be great. And then when you are not great and nobody thinks you great, you end up being ordinary. And it is very hard to be ordinary when you want to be great and you are not great.
The biggest fear in my mind is to have to accept a defeat and then never be able to draw enough strength to fight back. That is the reason I keep telling myself that it’s not me, it’s them. How convenient and rejuvenating such a feeling is, when you are assured of the fact that whatever wrong there is in this world, it is with the others.
I am brooding right now with the realization that I lack something but at the same time I am telling them to “Go to hell…, I will continue as it is.” The only thing I lack is advertisements.