As is ritual, I find myself documenting, to an extent, what went on in my head on my birthday. This time, it was my 20th.
It started in the usual fashion, of course, with cake(s) and card and lovely people who stayed up till 12 and beyond on an exam night, and tonnes of phone calls and messages. The next morning, an exam was written. A treat was given in the afternoon, and a whale of a time was had with family at night.
Through all of these modes of celebration, which involved LOADS of cake, it dawned on me that this celebration is much too needed and much too crucial.
The journey from one year to the next is always fraught with fun and frolic, trials and tribulations, happiness and sorrow. But the journey from 19 to 20 was a little tougher than the rest have been so far.
It was a year of change.
I was part of a batch that was senior and junior to a lot of people in college, which meant that there were more friends to make, while there were some special ones who were ready to step off campus, hardly ever to be seen again. I realised that would be me someday.
I hit rock bottom at one stage wherein I couldn't write. It has been almost six months since I wrote, and that was a difficult phase to get out of. It took me apart each day to know that that was not to be the day that I would pick up a pen, or jab keys at a keyboard, to my heart's content, because something creative had struck me. It broke my heart when all I could muster was a flood of tears or a flurry of frustrated reactions to counter that loss of creative energy. I hurt a lot of people in the process, and hurt myself even more. When I look back on that today, I know that it has been an uphill trek up to here, where words are forming themselves as I recall impulses. And it feels amazing, and it is a beautiful gift to know that I can do what I did before, despite the hardships.
I learned a lot of new things, which is the silver lining of my dark cloudy year. I learned that I had finally been able to zero down on a career. I learned that "I trust you" means a great deal more than "I love you". I learned that my shades of grey are ALWAYS going to be different from someone else's mix of black and white. I learned that though I can be content with doing my bit and moving on, there will always be a space for hurt and dejection when its not reciprocated, whether I expect any returns or not. I learned that there is yet much to learn, and that I've done good so far to learn from what has been thrown at me.
There is also a degree of anticipation that has set in, in the process of it all. The "what's next" phase. I want to see what the final year of college will bring me. There are so many places for me to see, some more friends to make and a lot of friends to bid adieu to. I feel like I want to do a lot more with another year added to the existing total. I want to dance more, I want to swim, I want to eat more [hell yes!]. I want to fall in love, I want to do crazy things, I want to see what at date is like. I'd like to write a little more, I'd like to trust a little less [or a little less often], and I'd like to free fall, just to see who'll turn up to catch me. I want to make amends, I want to break free [right?], and I want to be able to keep wanting.
A lot of what I felt last year has resurfaced, renewed by certain experiences [or the lack of them]. And I guess that's all a part of growing up, isn't it? moving forward, while leaving behind the things that inhibit you, and keeping the things that have let you go on so long.
And so, here it is, the end of this post, not just because this is longer than I expected it to be or because of the fear that the person on the other side has possibly dozed off, or left. But because I'm done being senti at twenty. Let the mental-ness begin!
