Anything I’m Not.

Ruch told me about this song about a week back (Anything I’m Not by Lenka). It’s strange how describes so aptly what I’ve been feeling for the past few weeks but didn’t realize till now.

It just so happens that in the past few weeks I’ve been discovering a lot of not-so-nice things about myself. Some I found out on my own  and the rest were derived from the exasperated complaints of friends and family.

My mom told me I was a “selfish bitch”. Yes, those quotes are there for a reason. At that moment, I figured she was in the wrong. I had just gone from being in Hyderabad with Parth, Myth and Aj and having loads of fun to being stuck in a hill station with my nagging parents who thought looking at flowers was an awesome pastime. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for admiring nature…. when I’m 40.
But then one shopping trip with my cousin and her mother made me realize that I’m quite a monster child. I was standing there a tutting at her horrible bratty behaviour and it hit me that I’m not really any better. I do tend to play princess in my house all the time and my unreasonable demands graph goes off the page.

Okay, so I’m not a wonderful, loving daughter, you’d think I would at least make a good friend right?

Wrong.

I have mood swings that should have had me admitted in a psychiatric ward a long time ago. Really, PMS takes on a whole new definition with me. I treat my friends with barbed remarks and acute insensitivity seasoned with a lot of other emotional bull crap. I call them and up and whine about the same thing I’ve been whining about since time was invented. Repetitive doesn’t even begin to cover it. I make them pay for me ALL THE TIME. Now, I’m quite shameless about it too. Then, I have the audacity to cry when I’m sitting on my bed post-fight-with-mom, holding the phone and thinking, “Wow, I can’t think of a single person who’d want to talk to me right now.” 

I push people away. They’re nice to me, they promise me that they’re okay with me being a horrible person and I literally shove them away. I stop picking up calls, replying to messages/emails when it suits me.

It’s a wonder I have the few friends I do have. I’m a selfish, mean bitch. Seriously, I should just shoot myself as their birthday gifts or something.

What’s left? Ah, yes being a girlfriend. I might even have been good at it at some point. People do fall in love with me. But in all honesty, I’m a terrible girlfriend. I don’t know how to give someone space, every little tiff always has some self-absorbed translation to doom in my head. I’m cranky and demanding. I’m incapable of being clear about what I want. I’ll say I want something while I’m actually indicating that I want something totally on the contrary (it always makes sense in my head) and then I get angry when things don’t go my way. I complain all the time. I talk to much about too much inconsequential shit. I alternate between wanting independence and wanting to be taken care of in totally random patterns.

Dale Carnegie would be appalled.

I always always want gifts. Or letters or poems or long, elaborate declarations of undying love. I’m selfish AND materialistic.

There are a lot of other faults of mine that don’t pertain to anyone else but I don’t they’d make a good blog post. Not like this does. I don’t even know why I’m writing this.

NO, I’M NOT FISHING. NO NO NO NO NO NO.

I’m VENTING.

Big difference.

I need sedation.