I don’t say yes to taking on a million classes, jobs, and extracurriculars because I’m a South Asian girl who’s been trained not to say no and I have something to prove. I say yes because my dad nearly died last year, I have an immense fear of losing time, and I’m trying to make the most of the time I’ve got.
I didn’t choose to be a writer because I come from a predominantly South Asian STEM community and I’m trying to be interesting. I write because it’s the first and last thing I’m passion about apart from passion itself and my friends and the people I care about. I write because it’s a coping mechanism. An outlet to vent.
I’m not in love with Jagapathi because I’m Telugu and he’s Telugu. I love him because of who he is. His intelligence. His kindness. His wittiness. And yes, because he’s the sexiest person in the world.
I didn’t fall in love with my best friend because it’s some cute coming-out cliché. I fell in love with her because she was the first person in my life who understood me and accepted me, no questions asked, even miles across the globe, is still there for me when I sometimes feel like no one else is.
I don’t have my eye on every hot person (and some who aren’t) that walks by because I’m a player or a homewrecker as I wrote about in one of my personal essays for a creative writing class eons ago and defended – I literally called it “Homewreckers and Playgirls”. But rather because I find like puzzle pieces a little bit of what I would love in a future partner in each of them and I wish I could fuse them into one person but that isn’t physically possible. And these men and the handful of women are too loyal to share me (or break up with their current partners and I highly doubt those partners are willing to share them with me…) I promise you this is still something I am considering since “Closure”. For very different reasons though. Less of heartbreak. And more because he’s frickin’ fantastic. They all are. In their own ways. And aren’t in some ways. Which is why I love ’em even more.
I love the broken ones.
Because I’m broken.
And how do I find my one and only if I cannot search?
And as I’ve already explained I cannot just wait for them to fall into my arms because of my fear of losing time. And my grandfather died before I met him. And I refuse to let that happen to my children. So the faster I get a partner in life and parenthood, the faster I get to have children.
And because I love children. And I want to adopt them as soon as possible.
And I don’t want to not get pregnant because it’s the twenty-first century and I live in America and I have the ability to not get pregnant but because there are so many complications with being pregnant and I’m not built for it and I’m not built to deal with the pain that would come with the complications if things got complicated. And also, I don’t want to have sex.
And I don’t say I’m asexual because I’m incapable of having sexual feelings – as too many reading this blog would’ve guessed by now – but because I don’t want a repeat of that one time I told a guy I do have sexual feeling but never want to have sex and not with him and didn’t want to explain why because it was none of his business and he asked if I was “testing” him. It’s easier to just say I don’t have those feelings at all until I meet someone with who I can share them. And because until quite recently I hadn’t admitted to myself that it wasn’t initially a choice and I don’t like the feeling of not being in control.
And I’m not a control freak. But I wish to take on control of as much as possible even if it’s sometimes in denial because there are too many things I cannot control like the death dates of those who I love and myself or the fact that we only have twenty-four hours in a day and because I have no idea where we’ll all be in ten years despite all the plans we make. Because I’m not selfish and stupid enough to try and force the ones I’ve fallen for to fall for me too. Or be with me even if they have fallen. Because World Wars, and Covid, and Politics, and all the stupid things that have to happen in the world that we don’t have a say in.
And I am not overprotective because I’m scared about life and because World Wars and Covid and Politics. I am protective enough because I was nearly run over by a train when I was a few days less than thirteen years old and if my friend hadn’t been with me and seen the train while I was lost in my own thoughts, Midnight Mocha Latte would not exist right now. (The idea of Rosaline – my female lead in my novel When You Saved Me for which there’s a link under the blog post with that title and on my home page and in my Insta bio – repeatedly being nearly run over by a car didn’t just come from thin air). And because I’d been in two near car accidents one week apart. And because I know about too many people whose lives have been shredded because of alcohol and drug abuse. And because I’ve accidentally fell down a flight of stairs too many times to count and thank god if god exists and can control the world that I fell the right way and didn’t break my neck.
Being honest is boasting about handling so many activities, being shameless about liking so many people, not giving a damn about what people say about my chosen beliefs, my not-chosen circumstances.
Vulnerability is letting people in on the reasons behind why I am the way I am and why my life is the way it is.
To the guy who said:
This one’s for you. I know you didn’t know about my father, but you shouldn’t have said it nonetheless. Turns out I was more upset about it then I thought.
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