It’s A Constant Battle

How easily people say “love yourself”, as if it’s nothing. But people like me who battle every day with monsters that live inside head knows it well that it’s hard. I really never liked the notion that “ if you don’t love yourself nobody will ever love you”.

And it scares me. I know it’s hard for me to love myself. I knew from a very early age of my life that I am mediocre and there’s nothing special about me.

I wasn’t a bad student, but I wasn’t a good student either. I could sing and dance but not enough to catch any eye. I am pretty but I can’t turn heads with my physical beauty — in short, I simply exist, nothing more, nothing less.

I never found the purpose of my life. And the older I am getting I am losing my focus more. People of my age are all sorted, they have jobs, they have found love, they’re married, in short, they are settled. Here I am washing my dirty laundry in public.

But this whole world runs competitions among people. Survival of the fittest as books say. And I am not fit enough, never fit in anywhere, and pretty much have been outcast all the time.

And the cherry on the top I don’t talk much, writing is way easier for me. My insecurities bite me, scratch me and pull me down every night and day. And losing a job in this pandemic isn’t helping me either.

When I used to do acting, it was a huge serial of failing in auditions. I used to fail for how I look, for my height, skin color, and body. With time I even accepted that I must not have talent.

People say “ you don’t try hard”, “ you are lazy”, “ you always complain”. Even I feel like I complain all the time. When I started working off-camera as a film editor there one extra battle I picked up and that was against patriarchy.

I feel tired. I often pray to the unknown universe that “ please, don’t let me wake up. I don’t want to see the next morning”. I feel like after all the traumas I have faced, all the failure I have endured the least I can get as good karma is a peaceful death.

Here I am whining once again. Opening a door for flooded sympathy and advice that I do not need. Nights become deeper and I drown in pity.

And my eye opens itself once again. I see morning sun once again. And I know it’s a battle once again.

Maybe other people are going through this battle. Maybe there are other people who are second lead in their own story. Maybe there are some people who are just as mediocre as I am.

I just want to hold their hands.