Feeling, too much.

There is simply no tax or fare you need to pay for feeling too much. 

Feeling too much is like drowning yourself in alcohol you know is not healthy to consume. Feeling too much is the nausea that comes after, curable, but time consuming. Feeling too much is the rent you pay for opening your arms far too wide for someone who does not love you back. 

So when I say I feel too much, I need you to know that my insides are tangled up like reels of unbound thread soaked in gravity, raining from the clouds.

There’s a lot of slow, endless falling.


On Perspectives.

Today I learned that it will hurt a lot to have your own perspective of things. I learned that even though we might see our unique interpretations as something that sets us apart, they also pull us back to believing the illusion that everything we see is exactly what it seems; that there aren’t more parts to a story than the ones we choose to read. 

But there are. In a world where every element exists in pairs: night & day, fire & ice, real & virtual, matter & antimatter, perspectives too, occur in more than one ways. I always thought I was capable of looking out of the box that limits me to my opinion, that I could see what someone else might want to take out of the situation.

I was wrong. You never really know. 

I learned that a confrontation can help in more ways than it can cause harm. There was a lucid, brilliant clarity, a lightness that I felt about myself as I talked out loud about something that had been pestering me, lingering on in my conscience so ardently.

I am fine, to state my mood in the exact terms. I’m learning how to deal with difficult situations. It is a little hard for first timers like me, but it’s the lesson of a lifetime. I’m trying to keep my emotions in check and not muddle up what I feel and who I am.

So far, this is working out. 

Feeling Differently.

Today was almost reckless. Like a sea wave that wipes away your scribbles in the sand. Pretty scribbles. 

I woke up feeling as if something had eroded my happiness away. Somehow, I Won’t Give Up by Jason Mraz was reverbrating within the hollow chamber of my body, bouncing off of my bones. I almost found myself wishing someone would sing it for me. Someday. So I played it on my phone as I lay in bed: warm, externally but cold, internally. My shuffle playlist turned out to be great, so I began to feel better. 

I gathered all my notes to finally sit down to study. Studying is hard because focus is not a choice. My mind flutters away like a butterfly, being the non physical entity it is; landing on my past at it’s whim, lurking over my present, with it’s cynical eye turned towards my future. I sit at my desk with the utmost dedication, but my mind fails to comply.  

It astonishes me how nothing much changes itself around me, but everyday I wake up feeling a little different. Sometimes, like waking up as a new person. What I feel guides what I do.

But I do not know how to control what I feel.

I Won’t Give Up by Jason Mraz


There are a lot of moments which have me begging
for magical powers that could freeze the universe for a few moments;
So I could be destiny’s handyman,
and shuffle things back where they belong.

From their frenzied, messed up lives,
relocate people to places they needed to be.
To be the prime conspirator,
and tip the dominos of destiny.

Mend the lovers going astray,
couples parting ways.
Pair love with love, passion with heat.
And you right here,

back next to me.


To make a classic
anxiety-stricken city girl,
One bowl of a painful past,
two table spoons of self loathing;
one cup of anxiety up to the brim
and a pinch of wavering self confidence stirred with a raging inferiority complex.
Then, the most important ingredient:
some fresh, homegrown melancholy reaped from her personal farms of depression,
and stir it the same way butterflies chase their rear ends inside her stomach each time she has to confront someone;
let it simmer on the gas, until small bubbles show up like
stress-related acne struggling for space on her face.
Now pour this mix into a bowl, slowly, carefully, the way she never can;
and season it with the toppings of your choice-
my personal favourites,
fake laughter and hopeless positivism,
then throw it in the trash, where it originally belonged.
Like me.

Story #40: An Anonymous Note (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Dear you,

I know you are suffering in your own, unique way. I know you have a story, a history and something that gives you pain. I know you have happy moments that you never account for, and sad moments you never forget. I know sometimes you hide your pain and mask your insecurities.
Because I do, too.
But I want you to know that you’re the writer of your own story. All the characters, living or dead, are the people you chose to be with, at that moment. Every episode you experience is influenced by the words you say and the things you do. Just like every turn adds on to you successfully getting to your destination, every choice adds onto making what your life is or will be.
That being said, I don’t want to turn this into a sermon. We all know our choices make or break, but still, sometimes we end up saying and doing things that we shouldn’t have. Negativity fills us up. Things go bad one after the other, repeatedly, and everyone you’ve ever come to love seems to either not care, or be there for you.
But in times like this, I want you to know that you have the power to change your situation. You always have the power to change the situation. I want you to believe that you do.
Two years ago I had reached the lowest point in my life. I fell, hard; everything in my life seemed to be going wrong. I was sad, and I was sad all alone. To be honest, I still am. I haven’t recovered from it, but I’ve stopped thinking about it. I’ve learnt to focus my energy onto better things. I’ve learned to give into my emotions, but not too much. I’ve learned that emotions make you weak, and love makes you vulnerable. So I have tried to keep them both as far from myself as possible. I’ve come to know that I am alone, and that no matter what, friendship is, in the end, a beautiful illusion we distract ourselves with. Years spent in school together, times spent laughing, and sleepovers: they all dissolve into ego, selfishness and stop to exist. So I’ve just come to terms with the fact that no matter how much I may love people, they will never love me back as much. I will never be enough for anyone, and that is okay because people always have expectations, and expectations always lead to disappointments. 

This may appear to be a very pessimistic view of life, but I swear, I’m a very happy person and a self proclaimed optimist. Although, I believe now I’m turning into a realist. A realist who knows her flaws well; a little too well to hate them. A realist who for quite a long time didn’t look into the mirror because she hated the sight of her face. Anyway, I’m telling you this because I want you to know how I feel better about myself. 

I try to spread happiness. Try to. There’s something very satisfying in seeing someone smile; more so when I’m the reason behind it. So I don’t really care if its over something silly, or a story I just concocted. I just want to make people laugh. Maybe, I think, making someone happy is my way of making myself happy, because I never seem to be able to do it directly. Also, random acts of kindness. You have no idea how wonderful they make you feel. Wish the person who guards your front gate, buy the balloons from the little boy selling them at the red light, compliment your friend who’s insecure about her looks that she is beautiful, tell your parents you love them; there are so, so many little things that you can do that can literally brighten up someone’s day. They feel good, you feel good: it’s a win-win situation!

I know this because these are the things that no one ever told me. I also know this because I know it works. I wish someone would’ve been kind to me back at a time when I felt weak. I was still in school. I’d been crying for last thirty-five minutes in the toilet; that’s how I used to spend my lunch breaks. I’d stopped washing my sore, red eyes because I knew nobody cared enough to ask me what was wrong. This happened again, and again over different time periods in my life so far (I’m big on public crying, lol.) I’ve had multiple panic attacks inside fully crammed metros, and not one person has had the guts to ask me what was wrong. My point here is, in situations like this, people are afraid of being kind. Why? I don’t know. I just hope the people who are reading this aren’t the ones to turn their heads away when something like this happens. 

I want you to do one more thing. If you absolutely hate your existence, or you’ve just been experiencing bad things one after the other, do this: when you lie down at night, close your eyes and just say thank you to the universe for everything that exists in it for you, or rather facilitates your existence. Start with twenty things. The list will expand, day after day and you will realise the thousands of things that you need to be thankful for. I do this exercise at times when I feel that nothing is working out for me anymore, and it just makes me feel that I have way, way more things than I account for, and that my existence is magnanimous. 

I’ve babbled for quite a while now. I just want you to know that your life will go on; you are a unique, wonderful human being who is here for a purpose. I want you to know that right now is all you have. Smile. You’re allowed to cry. Let it out. Love. You will find love, inevitably, but for once try letting love find you? Everything good that is meant for you will come to you in good time. 

I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. 
I wish you well.


P.S: I listened to this song when I was going through a very low point in my life. It made me cry, a lot, but I also felt really better. I want to add it on here, because, I don’t know, maybe if you too are going through something bad, this could help. I hope it does. 

A Little Too Much (Shawn Mendes)

I cannot believe this is the last time I writing this after-note!

We all at some point feel exactly like the writer has described in the episodes of their life. Sadness, dejection, disappointment and what not. But really, true happiness lies in making others happy- be it through lame jokes (if you’re like me) or acts of kindness. These words have really struck a chord in my heart, and I think I will come back to this story, again. I hope the words have resonated with you just like they did with me. 

On that note, I declare The Anonymous Anecdotes Project as closed! I’m so thankful to everyone who’s contributed and/or read the stories; be it one, two or all forty.

Loads of love!


Any opinions, comments or ideas that you may want to put forward to the writer of this story can be mailed to me at ratti.priya5@gmail.com. Positive feedbacks and constructive criticisms are more than welcome. 

(The Anonymous Anecdotes is a project under which anyone can send me a memory, a story or an experience from their life that had a profound impact on them. It requires people to write their respective experience along with the way it changed them or their perception of life. According to the project, these stories are being published anonymously, with the intent of spreading a positive message and a hope that anyone who reads, relates or learns.)


Story #33: The Lighthouse (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Picture this – a little ship sailing out in the open sea. It’s all nice and calm. The sky’s clear and the annoying, noisy seagulls are surprisingly missing. Such beautiful peace! However, don’t be so easily fooled by this quiet, deceptive tranquility. The absence of those very same noisy birds doesn’t bode well. Heard of ‘the quiet before the storm’? And before you realize it, there are menacing, dark clouds crawling over the same clear canvas. The heavens split open as torrential misery pours down.

Just a tiny boat, a tiny boat that is no match for the giant waves rapidly approaching. You lose control over the wheel, there’s nothing but looming rocks, encompassing shadows and monstrous waves up ahead. Treacherous whirlpools and sweeping tides that silently linger to bait in clueless, naïve wooden preys, threaten to break and gobble you up. You’re but a mere wooden toy tossed and flung around by the tides that just might capsize you. They conspire to seize you and hold you down till all the fight leaves your being and all that’s left behind is a beaten down wreck in the very depths of the high seas. A wreck that wards off most and commands a presence that is answered only by nervousness and a silent wish to stay away.

You should know this though, this tiny boat is anything but tiny. It’s your existence. It’s as magnificent as any of the finest ships out there decked in its own unique grandeur. It is your life and as much as you’d like to always be in control, but there are times when that’s out of the question. There are so many monsters out in the sea looking such harmless vessels to wander out, testing the waters, so that they can find them at their most vulnerable state and devour them. One small blind spot. Just one Achilles’ heel. Just one little insecurity for them to hound upon.

But amidst this turmoil and chaos, for that one moment when the waters retreat, have you ever looked about? Or are you just too caught up in healing and recharging yourself for the next onslaught?

Sure, it’s important to heal and pull your guard back up. But just for a little while forget them. Let your guards remain down and look into the dark, dreary expanse of the night. What might appear to be camouflaged as an abysmal stretch, hides among its countless evanescent stars a single, sole light lower than the rest perhaps. A lighthouse.

A lone ray of brilliance to guide back the other solitary crafts. Just a tower to guide you back home. It doesn’t forsake your tiny meandering self. It doesn’t leave you alone with your own thoughts. There’s suddenly so much more to your life and there’s this tiny spark within yourself. A hope to possibly continue hoping and to survive. Even if it’s but a mere mirage, it still fills the lost nomad with a promise of there being a light at the end of the tunnel.

When surely all seems lost and you seem to be done for, don’t forget there are those who will guide you back. There were times I faltered and almost gave in to my demons. I could barely get back up from where I had fallen. The ones I relied on, my own blood, weren’t there for me. In fact, I wasn’t needed. I was just a mistake after all. I would like to make this about a story of true love, because who doesn’t love a romantic story once in a while! My apologies, but that didn’t happen.

Sure, I found love and soulmates. Yes, I say soulmates, with an ‘s’ , for they are my better halves. I hadn’t had the best experiences in friendship before but if there was something good that pain gave me – that was my own lighthouse. They scattered rays of hope for me to hold onto in my life and a drive to continue fighting.

The companions I cherish and always seek out, be it when my life’s caught up in a storm or not. They made me realize that even if my self is rendered into a formidable wreck, there are those select few curious minds that will set out to explore this same wreck. They will dive into the scary depths to find me all battered on the ocean-floor, only to preserve and put me back together again.

There are times I have been unable to express how they quite literally saved me from rotting away and breaking down. There’s now a drive in me to seek out this lighthouse, to wait for that occasional explorer, and to continue sailing and conquering the high tides.

This is the most beautiful analogy to life that I’ve read in a long, long time.

Life tosses and turns you over, but there is always that one source of light, that beacon of hope that shines in your darkness, telling you that there is a way- a way out. 

So you know you need to hang in there a little longer, if you’re not seeing your lighthouse just yet. Hang in there a little longer. It will find you, and in Coldplay’s words, lights will guide you home. When you do find that lighthouse of yours, hold on to it like you’ve never loved anything before. 

I hope you do. 


(The Anonymous Anecdotes is a project under which anyone can send me a memory, a story or an experience from their life that had a profound impact on them. It requires people to write their respective experience along with the way it changed them or their perception of life. According to the project, these stories are being published anonymously, with the intent of spreading a positive message and a hope that anyone who reads, relates or learns. If you’re interested, you can send me your story at ratti.priya5@gmail.com.)