I woke up thinking how much of a nobody I am. I have nothing to my name at all, and I stared at my reflection blinking, wondering if I’m going to change that at all. What do I want in this world? What do I want to do? Even at 24 with a book out, I still am clueless. Am I depressed? I don’t think so. It’s just that sometimes we have moments where we feel down, sometimes we feel up. I’m not a plateau. I am a vibrant, rhythamic wave of life (I hope). It’s okay.
The other day I randomly bought carpets to prepare for Ramadhan (terawih etc must be comfortable, you know), as our carpets have worn out, and then I went on restaurant hopping, pizza-delivery every other day, and even decided to just sit through a movie on my own (I don’t really watch movies). I think doing these made me wonder if there’s anything more I want to do with my life, I mean, apart from writing and writing. Do I want to ….settle?
Maybe it’s also because for the past few days I keep hearing about people about my age’s death. Oh well.
Here’s a random story:
I have a friend who’s divorced with a child. He’s been single for…four or five years? Maybe? I have no idea. His friend, who is much older, asked him how did he cope with divorce. He said he understood what his friend was feeling. That it really is a lonely process, where you come home, all those years expecting to find a wife in there, but you look around and find nobody. That was the side I’d never seen of him.
“Is it like the death of someone?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, and added, “it’s difficult to stand. Your knees become weak. You unknowingly cry non-stop.”
I thought about it. It’s something I can’t comprehend, you know, not being in that situation.
“Is it like a break up?”
“Are you insinuating me?”
“Hey, no, you know I don’t do that.”
He thought I was asking him about his break up with his ex girlfriend. That didn’t go well either. He became mentally unstable. I encouraged him to seek help. Go to the hospital. It’s good he listened and is on therapy/medication. There were doctors he didn’t like, but I think the one he’s assigned to now he’s okay with.
“The guy who likes you, I think he’s a good guy,” he said, “but I’m just scared that if you say no you might break him. Like how she broke me.”
I cracked. As in just imaginatively, my glass heart cracked. I certainly don’t want to cause that kind of pain to anybody.
“He won’t,” I said, and was determined to find a way to gently and compassionately say no.
The other day this same friend asked me if I could do him a favour.
“Ask me ‘What did you use today?’ everyday.”
I was hesitant. Drugs? Or what? But I did anyway, to see what I’d get.
“Indibilis, thanks for asking,” he said. I thought that was the name of some devil drug, I was afraid. But I googled it and the search turned out to be some other things, some historical figure.
The next day I asked again, “What did you use today?”
“Jandamarra. Thanks for asking.”
And the next day, and the next, and the next.
One day I asked him why, what was he doing?
“It’s my own social experiment. I wanted to see how I’d feel to have someone asking me what my interest is every day.”
The next day I changed my question to “Who are you researching today?”
“No, no no,” he replied, “You’re asking it wrong.”
“What did you use today?” I corrected myself.
“Jayavarman VII. Thanks for asking.”
I really have NO IDEA what he’s doing, but I thought about the philosophy I learnt from Tumblr many years ago about Winnie The Pooh. Remember Eeyore? He still attended their tea parties and whatever it was Winnie was doing, despite being so gloomy and sad and all that.
(this video is so sad to watch, by the way)
Eeyore was a depressed donkey. The wisdom I gained was that they never tried to change him. They just let him be while still including him in. That’s how you open your mind, isn’t it? By making friends with people from all walks of life and different kinds of mental-states too.
This guy, he has his moments of senselessness, incoherent babblings, pessimism, and anxiety too. I get tired too and sometimes just want to turn the chat off. But then again maybe he just needed someone to listen to him. So I tell myself to be that person. And even though I am a nobody, at least I can try to be there for somebody.
It’s okay to be a nobody.