Random Thoughts

I know I am different. That's why its been so hard to fit in. Thats why its been so easy to be misunderstood.I know I am unique. That's why I am lonely. I know that I have inspired many people in my life. I also know that I have made a positive difference in each of their existence. But am I good enough? I am still not sure. I am still not sure of who I really am. I am still not sure why I exist. I am still not sure if I will get the answers to all of my questions.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I see a beautiful but fucked-up person. The more fucked- up I become, the more beautiful I seem to appear. I am like a rose with a million thorns around me. Its difficult to love me. I am a wild spirit. Its difficult to tame me. But its very easy to want me, to desire me, to ache for me, I have this beseeching vulnerability that makes me so attractive, I am a child woman, you will want to protect me, you might not be in love with me but you will love me. I will leave an imprint on your soul. As my eyes penetrate your mind and read your unspoken life, you will find yourself wanting to confess about the truth of your being, the truth that I already know. You will find yourself in an oasis of comfort, you will find yourself relaxing in the fact that you will not be judged. Yes, I am judgemental, I draw a mental map of a person based on my raw instinct, but my judgement is not cruel. My judgement comes with the comfort of acceptance.

And yet the irony is I don't let myself comfortably accept myself for who I am and for what I am. I am constantly waging war with me. I am constantly seeking ways and means of creatively breaking myself into smithereens so that I can re-invent, so that I can metamorphosize. Being sensitive is a curse. Everything is magnified. Everything is blown out of proportion. Everything gets to me. I question myself, do I love myself enough? Do I care for myself enough? Why am I so cruel to me? Don't I deserve kindness? Am I not worth it? What is my worth? Does my worth depend on how successful I am? Does it depend on whether I am fat or thin? Does it depend on whether I am beautiful on the outside or on the inside? Does it depend on whether I wear a ring from a man who wants to marry me or if I choose to be single all my life and yet be totally devoted to my lover? Does it depend on the clothes I wear, the car I drive, the company I keep, or on my bank balance? Does it really matter to have high personal standards when all you get out of it is disappointment? Does it make any difference to anyone to have depth, to have passion, to have moral fibre when you are surrounded by people who could drown in a puddle of depth? Does my worth depend on my virtue, my actions or by merely what I choose to say?

Its amazing isn't it, you think of me as a strong, ruthless, ambititous woman, and yet I am fragile and delicate like glass. I can be aggressive and a total bitch and yet you will feel love that you have never ever experienced before and you will feel nourished by my presence. My face can never hide what I am feeling and yet I feel that I am an actress, I am merely playing a part in the grand scheme of things. I chose a path in my life. A road that I made myself. I visualized walking on that road before I was even born. Its hard to explain such things. My life is a constant deja-vu. I have been there. I have done that. I am a self-made woman. I have great pride in acknowledging the fact that I have done the good, the bad and the ugly in my life all by myself. I road I chose to walk on, I walk by myself, with my head high, with pride and dignity and courage. Yes, I have fallen. Yes, I have done the forbidden. Yes, I have crossed the line. Yes, I have succumbed to the forbidden fruit. I believe you can't be good without tasting bad. But I also have had the power to rise from the ashes. And thats not all. I have the power to make other people rise from the fallen.

I am not afraid of walking alone and yet I am afraid of being lonely. My identity lies in caring for others, loving them unconditionally, but why has true love become such an impossible dream..why can't the simple things in life be a little easy?