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. 

On Changes.

Things are changing faster than I thought they would. I hate change; I resist it, I try to stop it the same way insulators try to tame electricity.

Crying became my savior today. It could wring me out of my self hatred, of how much I was suddenly beginning to despise myself. It feels good when your body gets rid of poison. I was holding onto poison inside. 

I do not want a confrontation. I’d prefer to run away, as always. Addressing the situation uproots too many seeds that transform into tiny nuclear bombs. In the end, we will be the casualties.

Who am I kidding? 

We already are.

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 #38: Beyond The Imperfections (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

I’ve had a privileged childhood. I’m sure it was better than what majority of children in a country like India get. I got everything I needed, had parents who loved me, who cared about me, and what not. And trust me, I’m very grateful for all that I’ve got. 
But like everything else, nothing is perfect. And for me, it was my parents. My father although a good man at heart, very honest and has high morals, intelligent and knowledgeable but is also very aggressive and irrational at times; maybe it is because of the alcohol. He is not an alcoholic, I don’t think so, but does consume some alcohol on regular basis. My mother is a relatively simple person intellectually. She is not as intelligent and knowledgeable as my father, and this is one of the main reasons they don’t get along very well.
When I remember this part of my childhood, I remember fights almost everyday. My father screaming; sometimes beating, mother crying, me and my sibling wondering what we should do and in general distress. My mother may make mistakes often, but nothing deserves such treatment from one’s life partner. A lot of times we were the victims to my father’s aggression too. Me and my sibling were slapped as children, shouted at, and what not. Somehow we grew up fine despite all of this happening. 
There is this one specific incident that changed me and my family. Don’t get your hopes high as this does not have any happy ending, at least not at the time I write this. A lot of such “fights” happened late in evening, after my dad returned from office, and probably drank alcohol. I put fights in quotes because it wasn’t two-way, it was mostly my dad screaming and hurling horrible abuses at my mother in the loudest tone possible. I’m sure all the neighbors heard them. I would not go in too many details about this, because that’s not the point. 
There were talks about being divorced. I must have been 14-15 years old then, and my sibling 12-13 years old. We were even asked pretty directly who we would want to stay with when our parents split. I don’t think a lot of kids are asked to make that hard a decision that young. It was devastating but somehow we got past it. 
There was this night. I don’t know exactly what happened, but this was normal by our standards. Dad said something, mom said something. I am not sure. Me and my sibling were upstairs, and didn’t know what happened. Next thing we know, mom comes upstairs crying, and says, “I’ve called the police.” 
Our worst nightmare came true.. Police got involved in all of this, and I guess from this point of time, I could no longer not accept that this was the sad reality. Earlier if any relative asked about this, I said it was okay. Pretty normal. A few arguments here and there and that’s it. But I could no longer deny everything was wrong anymore. 
I don’t think I should go into too much details about what happened then when the police arrived as I don’t think there is any point. In short, we played pretty chill. Since nothing significant happened that day, and no screams or abuses or violence was involved, there wasn’t much for the police to do. They thought that it was a case of wife getting upset at husband saying something, and the policemen started cracking jokes to make my mom happy. I guess the call was just the outburst of everything mother had to go through. Maybe someone advised her to do it the next time it happens. I don’t know. Policemen asked mom if she wanted my father to spend the night in jail, and thankfully she said no. Police left. Time to sleep for everyone. No conversation.
I remember sitting on the bed, looking at the whole scene then, when everyone was talking of divorce, police being involved now. I mean, this was major for all of us. Earlier there were talks of divorce, mostly in a semi-casual manner, but after this, everyone was pretty sure something concrete would happen. Father could not believe this had happened to him, and I believe he was pretty sure he could not take this marriage anymore. Mother obviously could not take this, since she had called the police. I was wondering how my sibling felt, very young at that time. I felt bad for my younger sibling to have to go through all of this at such age. In that one second, I saw my whole family completely destroyed. I knew everything would change henceforth; how I would have to choose who to live with, no more usual family things. I felt a large building full of responsibility falling upon my tiny shoulders. I had to do something now in my life, for my sibling and parents. That one moment, It felt like everything froze, and I turned a man from a child. This was the moment that changed me, forever. 
PS : No divorce took place, usual family again. Me and my sibling turned out fine, without any psychological trauma whatsoever. Of course everything still isn’t okay. There are still many such instances of shouting and cursing, in fact one right now as I write this. But I guess all of us are pretty used to it now. “Being happy isn’t about everything being perfect. It’s about seeing beyond the imperfections” Right? 
Please don’t feel bad for me. It’s all okay. Things happen. I live an amazing life. I’m very grateful for it. No complaints. I have many amazing people who love me, and likewise.
Love you all.
Thank you for taking the time out to read this.
After reading some anecdotes, I felt like speaking to the writers of the anecdotes but unfortunately can’t. But incase anyone wishes to talk to me, my email is abd14789632f@gmail.com.

It is tough to even talk about something so difficult that one’s family is going through, let alone writing it down. But this person did not only come to terms with the facts to talk about them, but also to write them down in a way that has surely resonated with me. 

I love the fact that despite the fights, despite the parents being so vulnerable, this person wrapped this story up with the words that they have an amazing life and no complains.
I, too, like the writer, believe that nothing is perfect. We all have, in our lives that one thing that constantly holds us down; it maybe a disease, a mental problem, or like in this case, family. But you know everything is going to be okay once you realise that you need to come to terms with your circumstance and accept things as they are. Only then, will you be able to make an effort to change the things that bother you. 

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 feedback and constructive criticism 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 #37: Past, Present, Future? (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Past, present, future; the three things that define our lives.
Do they really?

People often ask me about me past experience. What all did I do in school? Was I a good student? What all hobbies I had?

If not my past, they are way too interested in my future. What do you plan to do after two years? What do you want to become? What’s your ultimate goal in life?

Each time, I feel, hang on, please. Let’s discuss our present lives. Let’s talk about where we are right now, at this moment. 

Our generation has just forgotten the meaning of living in the present. Either we are too sad about the past, or too scared about the future. 

This has led us to not value things in our lives, more importantly, the people in our lives. Nothing is permanent; that’s the biggest truth of life. 

The people you love, live with them in the present. Do not think about the past or what’s going to happen in the future.

You must be thinking, it’s not easy to have such a perspective about life. But trust me, it’s the best way. 

I had my experience which taught me this. I don’t want to talk about it much, because it’s gone, it’s in the past. 

I was about ten; very young to understand emotions and people, obviously. I had a brother; lost him when he was not even three months old. The most precious one in my life. At that point, I didn’t even realise what had happened. 

My family made me strong. So now, I realise that indeed, nothing is permanent. You never know what’s going to happen. 

So just love the people you really want to. Enjoy the moments now. Because really, life is just about the present; no past, no future. 

I’ve always seen the present as this, nothingness. The present, to me, is just a fleeting moment; always moving away from us just when we’re reaching to grab it.

But the fact that nothing is permanent forces one into action. Knowing that all we have is right now, even if it’s just a fleeting moment, makes you seize the moment. 

Appreciate what you have right now, because things will not be the same forever. 


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 feedback and constructive criticism 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 #36: Dead Men Tell No Tales (The Anonymous Anecdotes Project)

Dead Men Tell No Tales

Hence the reason why I’m typing down this extract of my life so that someone somewhere can learn something from this collection of words. Maybe? Maybe not.

About telling tales. I’ve been brought up in a family where in the early stages of my life, my sister and I were showered with a lot of tales and stories from our grandfather. A story from him was not just an habitual occurrence but was an essential post dinner tradition. For a normal person it would be like having dessert. But the spectrum of his tales outranged all the tastes our taste buds could conceive. Well, time and technology took away those precious virtues. Time took away my grandfather and technology, his tradition.

Fast forward to this day where I’m about tell my first tale to a few people ironically with the help of technology. I don’t want to go overboard but I kind of feel like the prodigal son. ;p 

The significance of the title above is accomplished by now. So if anyone was expecting Jack Sparrow to be here, I’m sorry to disappoint you. 

Let’s Begin. 

What I am today is because of my mom.’

It’s 12:30 in the afternoon and a month has passed since my last class 12th exam. I’m currently chilling. ‘Chilling’ is defined as the act of scrolling through the news feed on your phone indifferently. Then I hear this, “Get Up!” There’s only one reply to that which is,”Mumma, 2 minutes please.” FYI: That reply is the gateway to eternal procrastination. A few moments later I hear this loud and clear, “GET UP FROM THE TOILET SEAT IT’S BEEN 20 MINUTES!” My heart skipped a beat (all the guys will relate to this). Before any preconceived notion could form in her shrewd brain I rushed out quickly. It was time to face the inevitable, the death stare. 

Then my mom asked me to go to the tailor to get her clothes altered and stuff. I never went there before in my life so obviously the answer was, “No, I’m tired.” There is one thing all our mothers say to get stuff done and that is, “No need of your help I’ll do it on my own.” That’s a guilt trip straight to hell. But first I had to go to the tailor. 

So I reach the market with a bag full of my mum’s clothes. Nobody is there at the tailor’s workstation. While I’m conjuring up curses in my head for the tailor a young boy comes up with a bag full of clothes. My initial thoughts were that his mum might have sent him too but those thoughts were substituted as soon as he took out the clothes, placed them on a stack and sat on the workstation. He asked me about the clothes and I conveyed him Mom’s orders. 

I saw a bag with a bunch of books and stationery beside him and I couldn’t help but ask him if he went to school. Apparently he did, but not very often. His attendance in the class was indirectly proportional to the work load he got here at this workstation which his father had made him on his 9’th birthday. I rarely empathize with people but at that point it hit me when i thought of stepping into his shoes. I asked him about if I could help with any of his studies thinking that he would be engaged his work and say no. But he left all of it in the middle, stood up and asked me to help him with math. Not at that moment but I asked him to visit me once his tailoring got over. (At this point of time, YOU, the reader might get bored with all the details. But every single one of it just had to happen in a sequence.) So I enter home and call out mom like I deserve a certificate of appreciation for the chore I did. Then I go back to ‘Chilling’. While I was scrolling I came across a sponsored ad by a company as part for their CSR about a short film making competition on a social issue. The instincts that were generated at that point were inviolable not to recognize. Never had I had butterflies in my stomach for just thinking about a project and how it would turn out to be. All I had was an instinct which gave me a string of hope to cling onto and a numerous number of practicalities to stoop me to the ground. But I decided to cling on. 

Later that evening he came with a textbook in one hand and a bag containing my mum’s altered clothes in the other. After studies were done I told him about the project to which he willingly accepted.

The next morning:

(AC/DC’s Back in Black playing in the background) 

We get to work. I didn’t trouble him in his working hours which were from 7:00 am to 7:00pm. We began at 4:00 in the morning and then after 7. The first experience of making a short film had an uncountable number of hurdles but during the process of filming none seemed to be like one, that’s the beauty of it. After 3 days of shooting and 2 days of editing our short film ‘Employed @ 9’ was uploaded to the company’s website.

One month later, I get back from vacation and I see a package from the company. In that is a letter and cheque in my name . Leave the cheque, once I read the letter I started jumping like if the primeval homo sapiens had just discovered fire. The amount of dopamine the was released in my brain that day has never ever been stimulated by any means till today. 

That was the initial domino falling to what I am today. And ‘what I am today is because of my mother’. No destiny bullshit, but if my mom hadn’t asked me to go to the tailor that day, instead of writing this tale I would probably be ‘chilling’ for another ‘2 minutes’ through my entire college life. 

Thank you, Mom.

This story was a treat to read. But as much as I loved reading it, for a long time I could not come with what to write here; or what I could take from it. But as I thought for sometime, it hit me.

Everything in our life is somehow, connected. It’s weird how we see our lives as an ongoing stream of random episodes, but in the long run, all these seemingly random episodes and occurances fit together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Suddenly, everything makes sense. So, it just goes on to make me believe that everything in our lives happens for a reason.

At the moment, someone might me experiencing the happiest or the saddest moment of their lives. While it may give one pain to be in a situation they are in currently, they were made to experience it because of some reason. As clichéd as it sounds, it’s true. Everything happens for a reason; pain, too is meant to teach us lessons happiness can never bring.

So, embrace everything life brings you, for in the long run, it will make you who you are. Most probably, like in this case, it will bring something good to you, something you will hold onto, for years to come. 


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 feedback and constructive criticism 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.)