Over the past couple of months, I have been working on understanding myself better. One would argue that I’ve been doing this in all my waking moments, but the difference is that, this time, I’m doing it with professional help. And as part of that effort, I have spent a considerable amount of time rummaging through my past and recollecting memories. I have realized that a lot of it is forgotten, or that some fires burn brighter than the others.

It was on one such expedition that I remembered another blog I had started writing in early 2015. It was a completely anonymous blog called, “Untitled. – the diary I could never keep.” (Don’t go looking for it; the blog is now marked Private, and therefore not accessible.)

Anyway, I circled back to reading some of these posts that a six years younger Meghna had written. And I was able to resonate with some of it even now. Some of that fuel still burns within me. And because it does, I have decided to publish some of those posts here. Why? Maybe because I had forgotten about that blog, and I don’t want to risk that again? Maybe because what Cloud is shaping up to be allows me to do this? Maybe because that voice is still mine in tone and appeal? I’m not quite sure. And I don’t think it matters anyway.

I will be posting only a couple of these, lifted directly from the archives of that blog. These posts will be filed on the page, The Untitled Diary (interestingly, I had toyed with this idea in late 2015 too – except the endeavor was not so openly executed).

Without further ado, here’s the first one:

April 03, 2015

I am losing myself. I don’t know who I am anymore. The more I try to find about myself, the more confused I get.
All these conflicting thoughts about what defines me, what makes ME, all of them confuse me, strangle me.

While I know that one is ever changing, ever evolving, I believe that there are certain traits – the fundamental ones – that always remain unchanged.
I am not a people-pleaser. But I do want to be someone people will enjoy the company of. I believe that that stems from the lack of friends in my life. I don’t want people to like me either, I just want them to have a good time with me. So I don’t really try to be someone they’re looking for, I just try to be fun. (Does that make sense?) And in that process, I believe that I let myself lose direction. I try too hard, and end up embarrassing myself.

It’s not like I’m not good enough. I most probably am but I fail to realize that. I find it hard to believe someone might actually like me for me – whoever, whatever that is. And so I try, and I drift too far away from what I usually am like, and end up losing myself.

My own thoughts and insecurities enslave me. They bind me, label me. I think I’m bad at small talk, that I’m not good with handling people, that certain people who went out of my life made me weak and vulnerable. And then I wonder if I’m just making excuses, fooling myself and everybody else...
I’ve concluded that I’m bad at conversations so I don’t try. I’ve concluded that I can’t handle people and so I try too hard. I’ve concluded that other people are the reason why I’m so insecure today, which means that I can’t really undo the change but how true is that? What if I’m just making excuses? While I don’t deny the fact that things did turn around when people changed, is it fair to consider all change as the consequences of those events?
I know I definitely am not who I was a few months and years back. But then who am I? And what am I like? What are my strengths and weaknesses? Are they real? … Am I real? Or am I just a figment of my imagination? Someone I conjured up to satisfy my whims?

I won’t lie – I’m tired, and I’m desperate. And I want closure. I just wish I knew how.


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