The fear of mediocrity

Yeah babe, you're a history slut, book annotating, lord of the rings reading, cottagecore, raging bisexual, Hozier fanatic, dead poet's society watching, punk rock listening, book hoarding, museum wandering, coffee addicted, socially anxious, introverted, basic bitch.

[while-my-guitar-gently-sleeps]

On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

[while-my-guitar-gently-sleeps]

"Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways."

~Sigmund Freud

[while-my-guitar-gently-sleeps]

It's okay to do something just for the aesthetic of it. I study history. In my family of mathematics majors and engineers, I took a decision which shocked everyone.

A stranger on the train asked me while we attempted small talk, "Why study History? It's all about kings and queens and rich men." Mama told me while I filled my college applications, "Why study history? There's no scope for any jobs." Father was skeptical at first, but he doesn't deny me anything. My family members sigh in frustration as they watch me turn the pages of my textbooks with a smile on my face. "Why study history when you can do anything you want with you 96% marks."

Why study History?

I still do not know how to answer this question. The words are swimming in my stomach, but I have never been able to explain it properly. Aesthetics have been a big factor. The thought of drowning in ancient civilisations and dead languages and sepia toned people excites me beyond explanation.

I am not romanticized history, with all its bloodshed and violence and orthodox mentality. But I like to worry about things that have already happened. My present is messed up. The future is uncertain. But history, history is familiar. It's a treacherous subject, but there's also so much beauty in it. The curious minds of humans making adorable little discoveries that suddenly changed the entire world, building little huts and growing rice and wheat and sugar canes and all the other good stuff, it's all very pretty. And I want to accept history for what it is, with all its beauty and flaws.

[while-my-guitar-gently-sleeps]

I turned 20 yesterday. Woke up at 6, got atleast a hundred texts with the same two words typed in them, left for college at 9, got stuck in a traffic jam, reached 20 minutes late, and lost my keys. Twisted my ankle on the way back home. My friends did not get me any presents (I remember spending a lot of money and effort on their birthday, but I was not expecting anything in return. It still stung a bit). Mama cooked one of her signature dishes and I don't understand why she's not a professional chef. I spent the rest of the day with my parents.

I don't feel 20. I haven't started living my teens yet. My neighbours don't know my name. I have never had a best friend. The twenties came running before I could have my first kiss. Now if anyone asks what have I accomplished in the 20 long years of my life, I only have school marksheets and a few certificates and medals to show them.

I feel like it's too late to start living now. So, I created this account yesterday to try and connect with people who are still clinging to their childhood. To books and movies and comics and fantasy and old music... I am in desperate need of friends and I have always found comfort in internet strangers who have no expectations from me, whom I can cut off from my life with no strings attached if stuff go downhill. Fortunately, my online friends have always been kind. I am aware that I make conversations awkward, but I love talking about the book I am currently reading or the movie you watched yesterday. How to participate in topics like sex and drugs when one has no experience?

So, in this tumblr page, I won't hold myself back. I will speak whatever I want, no matter how weird, silly, or awkward they seem.