Dear Kitty

Let us imagine that I am for a moment, the famous Anne Frank (from ‘The Diary of Anne Frank’). I do acknowledge that her life was harsh(er), her struggles real, and that I write from a place of privilege. However I believe I have shed as many tears as her, or struggled as much to sleep, or even, shared the same emotional pain buried in my chest that springs at night and hurts me so much lately. We imagine that I am her because it makes me feel safe and her diary was her safe place, that today is in my good hands. I would like to borrow a page from her diary and I don’t think she’ll mind.  

…

31st August 1943, Amsterdam 

Dear Kitty, 

I have been sleeping so less (and _____ so much) lately. Someone I met recently made me see somethings about me very clearly. I knew those things existed but I didn’t have a coherent way to describe them before. I’m thankful to that person but at the same time I’m suffering everyday. It seems you can forget someone who hurt you (or who you let yourself be hurt by?). In the sense that, you can go days without having a thought about them, in contrast to previous times, where they actually took control of all your thoughts, and even your dreams. What also helps is time, as time changes people, and you know that person is not the same person any longer. Even me, Anne, has changed so much. But what about the body, specially the chest, riddled with anxiety? Your nervous system that still recalls being on edge? The tears that dried long ago, but something triggers them again years later and you realize what it is. You feared when it will happen; the one experience that would make you so weak that it jeopardizes any hope for any connection in the future. I went into the future and “googled” it, the scary word called… trauma. 

Kitty, I am scared every night that I’ll be hurt again, even though there are no signs of someone trying to hurt me. I’m also stronger now, so why am I scared? A thought occurred to me, to talk to someone again. You know how it helped me 2 years ago, it really changed things with my close ones. I am going to improve myself, because I cannot spend my entire life looking at people from these glasses with frames coloured in trauma. These are kind people, Kitty. They deserve the best of me, and equally or even more importantly so, I deserve the best of me too. I don’t have big sufferings, I’m grateful. But I would like to go soundly to sleep sometimes or accept people as they truly are to me. Besides that, I’ll also work on my second problem, that spending so much time with this person in a space of no judgement, also made me realize deeply. This one is much more personal, much individualistic. I don’t know where it stems from, but I promise you I’ll talk to an expert and I’ll speak my mind, and I’ll be able to live a day without reaching out to things that numb my mind and to finally go to sleep because it’s again 1am at night and I cannot sleep. 

Signing off,

Anne 

How people influence the meaning of their names

“How can he be called Robert, and not Alexis or Sergei?” I complained to my friends over a video call. “He’s too complex for… Robert”, I explained. After a brief pause, Sam responds, “We can call him Bob” and both him and Alex burst out laughing. I gulped on the beer I was drinking, and let out a muted cry. 

Who knew a week later of knowing this person called Robert, I would come to like the name, so much. 

So here is an ode to a boy named Robert who lives in Max Beer Straße, nestled in an upscale and touristy neighbourhood of Berlin, the greatest city in the world. 

Every woman fawns over Robert’s curls, 

He proudly recalls telling his mother,

Each time she would beg him to chop them off, 

But it’s not his curls that enrapture the maidens; 

It’s him entwining his fingers into them, 

tugging them, as if to tap into his wise head, 

searching for a fact, a joke or, 

occasionally even a rap song, 

to which his head bobs sideways, eyes closed. 

Robert can drone for hours, 

over music, philosophy, people, and, surprisingly, even his own demons, 

His eyes smiling and his bunny teeth gleaming, through it all, 

But every morning, he goes silent while sipping his coffee,

and every night, he becomes pensive as he smokes his last cigarette of the day,

all on his small balcony that I was introduced to on my first day at his place,

boasting a fascinating, dazzling view of the Berlin TV Tower–

my favourite monument in my favourite city.

But as I spent the following days with him on his balcony,

watching his fingers twirl further through his hair,

his eyes sparkling like the Sekt in our glasses,

and the smoke from our cigarettes dissolving into the air, like time passing by,

I forgot the tower even existed, 

The balcony became a monument in itself; 

housing the depths of Robert’s thoughts. 

Author’s note: While the Berlin TV tower is physically enormous, the small balcony and the conversations between the Author and Robert within felt just as emotionally and intellectually vast. 

To Anna, from Sharvi

I've never had true friends. I don't know what friendship means. There is a friendship I see in the movies - a concept that seems more filmy than real. How can someone be this selfless I'd wonder? It was unreal. I was selfish. And so was everyone in my world till now. Until I met you.
You didn't care. You just loved my company. I was this spaceship that landed in your path. A spaceship full of surprises. You loved unraveling that box of surprises. Everyday it was something new.
Soon you realized the spaceship was broken in some places. It had rusted away because of an arduous journey. You still didn't care. You gave everything to the spaceship. You looked after it with complete selflessness. You listened to it malfunctioning at the darkest hours of the night. You watched the blurry stars with it until they became clearer one day. You were there for the spaceship - it was your friend. 
Sometimes the spaceship burst into colourful lights. Sometimes it was lying down still, mourning over broken stars. Mostly, the spaceship started loving your company too. It could drone on hours and hours about its lost journeys, about it's philosophies, about books... You trusted the spaceship and became an ardent devotee to the process of getting to know the spaceship better. For this, you immersed in books. You unlocked the door towards a world unknown to you - just for the spaceship.
The spaceship was a selfish one. It told you it would go away one day and then you'd just be a memory. It didn't know what friends were. It didn't know what expectations were. But the spaceship was not evil, it just hadn't met you. When the spaceship met you, it realized there is no thank you and sorry, the words it had been using all its life. These words meant nothing in front of the pure acts of friendship you executed. It was inspired and awed. Sometimes fear gripped too. But you changed something inside of the spaceship.
I don't know what it is, but you changed something inside me in a profound manner - and I'd always be thankful for that.
I can never give back everything that you did. Maybe in the same quantity but never in the same intensity. You were my singlemost friend, my machi, my anna, in this brief moment in my years and years of life. I would always remember you. Or rather I would remember all the moments. Because I cannot remember you. You, you will change everyday from now on. You'll become a different person. I'll remember the moments the most. The brief moments in time of pure friendship and nothing else. Of learnings, of passions, of care... I hope for you to never change but that will be selfish. The world needs you. We are all connected. You impacted my life, tomorrow you'll impact someone else's. You will change for that. But I'll never forget the impact you had on me. It was hard hitting. Sometimes I felt shamed and sometimes I felt in heaven. Both times, I learnt so much.
I will remember the breakfast discussion, the coffee discussion, the lunch discussion... Discussion, so many discussions... I've never been at such comfort. I lost myself in those discussions. It was a pleasure similar to reading a book. The world around melted into absurdity while the topic of discussion became more beautiful. Thank you for being an incredible listener. It's the greatest skill you have.
Thank you also for teaching me the meaning of being humble. Of hardwork. I was proud to be your friend. Specially of someone so sincere in work. Thanks for sharing your knowledge with me. You are so capable. I want you to rise and rise and fly like a bird in the sky. Away from all this mortal combats of life. I want you to charter a path of your own and keep progressing.
I wish you were God. You are just human and that's a great limitation. If you were God, the world would've been a better place. As humans you have limitations but I assure you that every life you've touched has blossomed. I hope in the next decades of your life, you continue to enrich not only yours but people's lives.

All eyes on me (a poem about social anxiety)

‘Behold, here she comes!’
The drum rolls,
The curtain falls, 
Snickers, guffaws, and pointing fingers,
Sounds from the crowd in my ears linger,
Explodes, a place in my mind somewhere,
Into fragments of shame and fear,
Can’t look up,
too ashamed to see, but feel-
All eyes on me

Frozen now, where to look?
How to move?
What to do?
Cross my hands, no!
Cross my ankles, no-no! ,
Finally, uncross my ankles, but-
Oh-no! was that too fast of a change?
Too abnormal and inhuman of a change?
Smile a bit, oops! maybe too much,
Straight face- no! too rude,
What to do? , what to do? ,
Mind is blank, and the tongue is tied,
Why does this happen all the time?
But they, they continue to torment me,
All eyes on me

Naked, on display now,
Under the probing eyes of the crowd,
Mind screams, ‘You don’t belong here!’ but,
Hush! they are watching now,
They feel your fear,
They see your fright,
They read your mind,
They judge your life,
Dejected, I come back home,
Exhausted, I can’t take no more

After a lot of convincing,
I again venture in the light,
Surrounded by people minding their life,
But inside, again their eyes’ on me,
All eyes on me

Mr. Dismal, the Cloud

My nimble steps gently hit the ground,
And so do the tears of Mr. Dismal, the Cloud,
Burst burst burst, he bursts out loud!
A slow drizzle followed by a big blow-out.
I ask Mr. Drizzle why he's always so sad,
He told me that he was missing his dad,
A strict mom, no friends, and a cranky sibling,
Mr. Dismal, the Cloud is so full of feelings.
I let him cry for a while or two,
Until we reach a familiar zoo,
I show Mr. Dismal the animals in the cage,
Seeing their loneliness fills him with rage,
I tell him you're free and float without fear,
With other clouds in the troposphere
An aesthetic you are, and a curtain to the sky,
Hidden behind you, beautiful gems of light,
Why this sadness engulfs you then?
Mr. Dismal, please be happy again!

Dining with depression

The polished oak of the long dining table glows silver, from the reflection of the chandelier dancing above it. I look at the sharp crystals hanging from them, struck by warm rays of the evening sun. There is food everywhere, baskets of bright red apples with bunch of grapes spilling out of it, a large loaf of bread with chocolate filling, boiled vegetables dipped in a bowl of hot cheese and wine, lots of sparkling wine. A crackling sound from the fireplace is the only sound one hears in the hall, the logs burning with an intense red that fills the place with warmth. I sit there, looking at all the silverware and pick my knife to cut a piece out of the juicy chicken. As I go further, there is a knock on my door, a light thud. ‘Who could it be at this time?’ I wonder. Keeping the silverware back to its place next to my plate, I stand up to go towards the door. Suddenly there is a sound of whoosh as the curtains start flapping because of the strong wind. I turn my knob and push the door wide open, only to be greeted by my companion- depression. And then it hits me. A surge of unhappiness washes over my body, it starts drizzling outside and depression stands there with a huge umbrella over his head, smiling at me, “I hope I can stay for longer this time”. Depression walks past me as I watch, my tired eyes following him as he takes the seat in the far end of the long table. “Come dine with me, I’m starving” he points towards my empty seat. I sit down, the chair feels strangely cold against my bottom, ‘Did the fire in the fireplace die out?’ I crane my head to check, yes it did. I look at the chandelier above me, the sharp crystals look like icicles now, ready to fall any moment and dent the beautiful oak table. The sudden chill in the air is unbearable, I clasp both of my arms and then my eyes meet my companions’, sitting right in front of me, in the distance between us are fruits that have turned rotten, bad smelling cheese, and spilled wine. I gaze into what seems like an endless void, an abyss looking back at me, ready to hypnotize me and take me inside. “Now stop looking at me like that” Depression says softly. Aghast, I slump back into my seat and rest my head on the back, ‘Couldn’t he see what he was doing to me?’ I thought, yet too tired to protest. I recalled the many times this had happened before, depression coming unannounced and wrecking the pretty little house I had built for myself. “You haven’t eaten a thing” he says as he gulps down an entire bottle of wine and puts a grape in his mouth. I look at all the tasteless food in front of me and shake my head. “I heard you lost your job, not very surprising huh?” Depression smirks. I give him a look of distaste as he continues, “And what about that lover of yours? He finally left you didn’t he? I told you, you have nobody in this world except me”. The thought of all the good memories with my lover surface, they fill my body with an inexpressible joy for a moment only to be again taken away by his next words. “You’re a loser, I hope you’re aware of that but I am there for you, unlike all those people and things you attach yourself to” My ears starts ringing, my head aching and I clutch my chest hard in the hope of squeezing out the intensifying pain that grows underneath. My mood shifts constantly, from anger to shame to sadness and to anger again. I look at Depression, feasting upon me through his words, enjoying every bite of me and licking his red lips. “Your existence is just a burden to this world” Enough, I smash my fist down on the table, overcome by anger, yet too tired to run away. Taking my head in my hands, I let out a wail, the smash had taken all the energy that I had left. “Leave… leave… me alone” I sob like a child, a puddle of tears on the plate now. Depression looks at me with pity in his eyes, then slowly laughs at my helplessness. I observe his face through the wet film that has formed in my eyes. There is something very magnetic about his personality, it draws you inside. I’ve always wanted to understand this mysterious person in front of me yet giving in to those desires never brought me any good, it put me in a dark alley, one where I often lost myself. In many instances, trying to understand depression made him stay longer in my house, and the longer he stays, the darker it gets until it’s just a series of dark days with no sun in sight. I wipe my tears off and muster the energy to move, slowly taking one step at a time to the direction of my bedroom. Depression calls out to me, “Come back, you need me, I’ll tell you who you are, I’ll answer all your questions, there is nobody who knows you better than me” Yet I don’t look back and keep going until I finally fall into my bed and go to sleep, praying that my guest will be gone by tomorrow. In between my broken sleep, I wake up to hear Depression singing to itself, his mellow voice echoes the entire house, I shut my eyes again.

The sun shines brightly on my face as I wake up the following day. Rushing into the dining hall, I find it empty, the fire comes back to life and a fresh smell of cheese fills the room. I look outside and see children running around, a carriage driven by horses passes by and the newspaper man gets off his bicycle to deliver the morning’s papers to me, shouting out a ‘good day’. I give him a smile, happy and relieved that my companion has left for now. 

Therapists, misanthropy and playing the nice card

Recently I came across this website called 7cups.com which is a platform where people can reach out to 'listeners' who can be both untrained yet kind human beings or professional therapists. After talking to a few I came across someone who was actually interested in listening to my woes, which in the end of the conversation made me feel better, light so as to say. It led me to wonder... all these therapists would really run out of business if people's parents and friends actually made the effort to 'listen'. Why, I wonder, is it so hard? Why does one feel the need to 'fix' everything in their close, loved ones when there is really no fixing required. All that the person requires is an ear that listens, a head that makes no judgement and a mouth that does not... speak. 

Humans are the most selfish of the creatures walking this planet. Even in love, worship, which literally means treating someone/something more than 'oneself', they seek self-fulfillment, satisfaction of their own desires. Once upon a time I was not a very nice person, my thoughts and actions were all directed to fulfill my own deepest desires without considering the implications of it. As I grew up though I realized playing the nice card isn't that bad after all, maybe sometimes forgetting your own self-interest can actually make you feel good. Yet being nice is simply an exhausting job in this world full of bastards who constantly try to project their own frustrations into a person they think won't speak up for themselves, won't object to this inhumane treatment just because they choose to be 'nice'. 

The most painful knowledge is that for the rest of my miserable life (which I pray is as short as it comes) I have to deal with these leeches stuck in my brain, a bother. How I wish I was Light Yagami from the anime Death Note and could kill anybody! I'd probably start with the virtue signalers of Facebook, aha. :)