I wouldn't blame myself for being taciturn but I rarely pick up the phone when it rings, sometimes I leave it on silent so that I'm not aware of it ringing, I'm not guilty, I'm free.

At times I do the same with texts, see the preview of it and leave it at that. Get rid of the notification, even if it is from a certain someone that I love. Then tell them that I’ve been out and that I’ll call as soon as I can. (When I’m ready to?)  

It’s not that I want to ignore the person because I can’t. I wouldn’t label myself as an ignorant person, for the most part. And it’s not that I don’t want to talk to them either. It’s not as if I’m too busy to talk to them yet I’m hesitant to get into a conversation.

I might be an introverted extrovert, reluctant and self-centred. I might make other people suffer with my mood swings. And they do suffer as a multitude of texts reach them when I’m happy, late night prank calls and my uncontrollable laughter helps me gain an image of an evil mortal. Though at other times when I’m over my head, I simply can’t bring myself to connect with anyone. The world outside of my own seems unbearable. Heavy. Almost wishing I didn’t have to talk to anyone at all, explain myself or ping them up with the bullshit I make up in my head.

It’s a strange contradiction, a two sided story, an irony, a misunderstanding. Where I may not want to bother someone when I’m down, the other person might get offended. Where I just can’t seem to explain to them how nothing is wrong but how everything is. Where I’m afraid I’ll be asked to get over it when I’m just not ready. Where I can’t bring myself to be involved in someone else’s happiness, the achievements they’re telling me about. I almost feel unworthy and unmerited for such tête-à-tête.

Most of the times it’s me spending an inordinate amount of time being alone, spending more time in taking a bath than usual, cancelling the incipient plans and those dinner dates just so I could be alone and watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Go to the coffee shop alone, with just a book in hand, never feeling the need to invite a friend. Ignoring the first knock at the door and timorously hoping there isn’t a second knock. On seeing an acquaintance in a crowd I turn around to change my direction, just so I could avoid small talk. It makes me sick now that I acknowledge how cowardly and self-centred I am. But I’ve unwholesomely gotten used to it, thinking of time as a precious commodity that I’ll ever own. So here I am, avoiding the outpour of emotions from a different being other than me, avoiding the misunderstandings, avoiding the heartaches, avoiding the 20 questions, avoiding the awkward silence between conversations, avoiding the unfriendliness, avoiding the tension of whether they like me or not, avoiding the hate and avoiding the loss.

I do close my eyes for a minute when my phone illuminates with a new text, a call or an invitation. There’s a risk I don’t take. There’re the messages I don’t choose to read. I simply wait for the screen to darken. I play it safe. I play it dumb.

But then I open my eyes, thinking why someone would ever want to talk with me, share with me, their sorrows and happiness, their achievements and failures. And the way they’d laugh with me on the silliest things. Thinking why I’d over think such an innocent connection to ever exist. And when at times I’m downhearted, a text from them is the only thing which lifts up my soul. Makes me crack up and shake my head at how utterly insane they are and how utterly lucky I’m to have them in my life. And when I talk with them, I never want the conversations to end. And how stumbling upon them in a coffee shop turned out to be the best thing to have happened to me that day.

I do worry though, about the transience of what exists in form and shape, scared of referring to someone as somebody that I used to know, scared of the everlasting connection, scared of the memories, scared of love so I'm always seeking for a forever in the brevity of a moment. (How selfish, yet again.) And at 2 A.M, more awake than asleep, the question lingers in my mind – Is it worth the risk? I guess I’ll know with time, as I disclose my feelings, feel the frown turn upside down as my phone illuminates and feel the smoothness of the screen upon my fingers as I reply. Feel the warmth radiated from the phone as I talk to them. Feel guiltless when my phone goes untouched for days and ecstatic when I still find them at the other end of the phone. For those people, I surely think it’s worth the risk.

Ineluctable facts of my life

The feelings have percolated to the surface. Here I am, face to face with the ineluctable facts about myself which I’ve refrained from acknowledging hitherto, for the fear of being too much or being too little.

I am an unpredictable person with different sides. It’s always an inadvertent revelation. What is it going to be? Which side of me are you going to see?

Most of the people believe that I am always chirpy, gloomy, incredibly shy and lost. They know me as the girl who gives evasive answers or someone who doesn’t answer at all, who is scared and light-hearted, doesn’t get attached to anyone and shrugs, feigning indifference. I seem to have a personality which can be easily defined in the first meeting if there's never a second meeting and I am almost never taken seriously.

These are the labels which have been put on me but they have only hindered my approach at other things in life, at other labels. And I’ve accepted them as the harsh reality of my life, never raising my hand to question them but nodding whenever someone told me who I am. And not correcting them was the only thing which oddly invigorated me, gave me a sense of superiority over them.

But it’s true that I am a capricious being where the real me continually vacillates between the several different sides of my being and cannot handle not being taken seriously. I fall from grace with a loud thud and I take pleasure in depriving myself of happiness but overburden myself with it at other times. I make audacious attempts and I am courageous enough to start all over again at any point of time in life and dedicated enough to keep on going even after being told it’s not worth it. I am crazy, reckless, and indecisive. I'll love you and I'll hate you at the same time. I am North and South in one. I am the monsoon and the drought, all in one. I am not renowned for my loquacity but sit with me over for a third cup of coffee and I’ll tell you. I wallow in silence but also know how to pull myself out of it.

There are layers which are slowly peeled off with time, by those who are willing to do so. And I am aware of how some people may dislike me because of these baffling sides of me, people who’ll end up defining me with different adjectives. 

I wish I could bring out the real me, utter my real feelings as instantly as I was put face to face with someone. But most of the conversations happen inside my brain, with the real me. Who is witty and charming, caring and comprehends every sentence said to her. I try though, but she just shrivels back inside when showed the slightest of movement from the other side, never persists but leaves me striving for it. 

Only if there weren’t any people around or if there was only that one person around, she would break free and see the world herself, as she wants to see it and free from any sort of labels.