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.
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Because I do, too.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.

Yours. 

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 #27: Uneducated, Undefined & Understanding (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

So, before I introduce myself I would be giving an introduction of my mother. My mother is an uneducated, undefined and an understanding woman.

She is uneducated and yet her morals are higher than any of the PhDs out there, or may be because she is uneducated her morals are off the charts; maybe our education does fuck us up as humans.

She is undefined because she is infinity and nothing can define the enormity of her existence not even her own actions or the reasons behind those actions. Reasons which I cannot comprehend. For example, she divides the shopping budget in four so everyone in the family can get what they need and want and yet somehow ends up with zero addition to her closet. I sometimes hate my sister and papa because sometimes they cannot get over their lust for materialistic joy and it breaks my heart seeing her smiling even after all this, in her old rugged before-marriage clothes. I try to minimise my wants but I am not strong enough to sacrifice on my needs and sometimes mix the two not realising I am adding to the burden, so I suppose I am no different.

She is understanding. After her marriage she understood quickly enough that she is not to take a stand for herself. My father is a good man at the core but he is immature and has no clue when to say what, he sometimes out of habit yells at her and I don’t like him very much, she on the other hand understood how to live with a man like this.  Sometimes even I am mean to her and she understands that I mean none of it and laughs it off. Quite an understanding woman won’t you agree? 

Out of my sister and I, I grew up to be the sensitive one and I could tell the desires she killed, realised the sacrifices that she made and see the dried up tear trails over her ear to ear smile. I always wanted to make her proud but it never worked the way I wanted it to, because whenever I did something or even if I didn’t do a thing she was always proud of me. I wanted to do something for her but I was weak, neither good in studies or sports nor drawing or anything. I often cried and got picked on because of this in school. Then as I went in grade 10, I was introduced to something at school and I thank my stars that it happened. I made great friends there and I was starting to feel that I too can be strong, strong enough to guard her. My mother does nothing for herself, nor does she has any ambitions for herself but she is very ambitious for her kids, she may never show this but she is ambitious when it comes to me and my sister.

So I vow to become the king that she wants me to be and then be her knight who would make sure she never cries again. EVER.

All I want for the readers to get from this is make sure you are strong enough to hold on to whatever you hold dear and the only way to be strong is by knowing yourself. The ways to do that are subjective so keep looking if you have not found it yet. Strength to you and I thank you for reading this.

Love Always,
XXXXXXXX.


Not a lot of people would choose to write about their mothers when asked to describe an anecdote that had an impact on their life. While this is sad, it suddenly appals me to realise how we often forget to love and appreciate what our mothers do for us; how they dedicate their entire lives in bringing us up and making us who we are.

Being selfless and thinking about someone who does something for you, without having you even ask them for it is something very, very hard. But this story is selfless, sensitive, and loving.

People do a favour for us, and then want one back. But it’s only mothers who just continue to give all their love and care, selflessly, without any demands. So doesn’t it become our responsibility to give back to them, everything we owe without having them ask for it?

I love the thought behind this story, and I love the resolution the writer undertakes in the end. I know, each one of us has their own plans, their own ambitions to do something for themselves. But how often do we stop and think of doing something for our parents? How often do we tell them something as simple as a ‘thank you’ or an ‘I love you’?

-:-

(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.)

Story #13: A Contemplated Love Letter (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

There are a really few, probably only one or two, people who enter your life to make it a heaven for you. Once you know them, hold them firmly and never let them go.

I have only one.

The one man who is more than a lover to me. He’s not somebody you come across daily. A man with a heart that pumps for others. I, like everybody else have many friends. But he’s the only one who lets me vent out all that’s inside me without the apprehension of being judged. He’s much like me, in the way that he understands that there is space and need for every emotion. Being the heads of the school council, both of us kept their heads engrossed and bodies at work all the time. No matter how small a task, he was considerate enough to do it without giving it a thought. The man who helped me be composed through all the odds. My weirdo.

I don’t regret the former year, because we know deep down in our hearts we were never apart. Now, when we are back even better than before we value our experience that brought us even closer. All the teachers and classmates used to doubt our relation, there were rumors in the air.  We enjoyed their suspicion and mocked them as we had the clarity of what it was. No name can explicate our relationship.

All I know is, I will hold onto him close to me forever and ever. Not just in words, he actually overlooked all my mistakes and embraced me like nobody else. The reason, for my smile without a reason.

Here’s something for him: you give me the feeling of having someone who listen to me, understands me, supports me; meet me, hug me, look at me and smile back at me, tears in your eyes and tears in mine; still trying to hide with a smile that says, “look, I know what you are going through and so am I but we can’t cry it out right now; we’ll let it out all someday, somewhere alone.”
From me,
To the man who always stood by me,
he’s no less than a celebration!

Waiting for the ‘one day’, where we just sit together in soulful silence…


All our lives we search for someone who understands us, and someone we can confide in. Someone we can unlock our hearts in front of, and know that they will still hold us close, in spite of knowing all our flaws.

I think this is what this letter was about.

For someone who’s a confidant, and a constant in this person’s life in the garb of a best friend. Maybe, even a little more than that.

I’m hope that the message reaches whoever it was written for.

-:-

(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.)

Story #7: For A Boy (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

To the boy, whose memories I’d like to box in that corner of my heart that I seldom visit. There’s a lot I could’ve​ and perhaps should’ve said but didn’t or rather just couldn’t. To the boy whose words were sweeter than his virtues, I thank you for your words, words that made me feel alive. Picked me up. But I thank you for the same words that thumped me down just as much. The same way that made me feel forgotten. Used. Left behind.

Funny how you used your words to let your biggest fear echo in my soul, the fear of not being enough: inadequate. Words that left me wondering. Questioning myself. Words that left me questioning your words.

Your love or at least your projection of it has never allowed me to sleep. Of course, it was the butterflies in my tummy and your sweet sweet words ringing in my head. But now it’s the pain in my chest, a sound of my sweet sobs and of course your sweet sweet words ringing in my head louder than ever. There was nothing right or wrong. Just choices. I chose to believe in you, you chose to deceive. I chose honesty, you chose the other way. I chose to touch your vulnerabilities, and you chose to disrupt mine. I chose to reach out to the hidden side of your soul and you?

I chose to string all of your words, the good ones, the bad ones, the beautiful words or the heartbreaking, the flattering ones or the demeaning ones- every little word together and wrapped myself in them. Wrapped myself in them and held them so awfully close to me, so close that I almost chose to let your sweet sweet words choke me.

So, to the boy who chose to exude words sweeter than his virtues would ever be. I’m choosing to walk away from them. From you. To the boy whose words I was blinded by, these are my words for you:

I forgive you and goodbye.


“You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world…but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices.” ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars.

I think this one needed the quote.
Honestly, I’ve read this letter over and over, multiple times. But I am clueless as to what to write here, because every time I’ve gotten to the end of it, I’ve learnt something new about the writer, and learned a different lesson from this story. The hurt, the relentless love, the forgiveness, the magnanimity of the writers’ heart, and her ability to let it go.

There is a desperate cry for help, hidden somewhere in these words. What we love makes us vulnerable, and thus, usually ends up being the reason for our pain. Though this letter reeks of pain, more than blame I see the forgiveness being given to whoever it has been written for. I see a big heart that is willing to forego something that it loves; I see a shattered mirror looking past its brokenness and still letting the light bounce off it’s surface; I see the choice to let go of the love that cost this person pain.

To love something so much, and yet, have the right mind to know when to walk away from it… I can’t imagine how much that would take. How many of us have the power the let go, anyway?

-:-

(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.)