Digging into old cupboards

I had nothing to post today so I dug into my computer and went through old folders. This was written a few years ago. I am not sure what my state of mind was that time, but today when I read it again, it felt like a fading smell of an old favourite scarf. Word of caution - lot of rambling ahead.

Here it goes-

I feel inadequate. Like I have so much to give but I am not able to. I feel insufficient. I feel powerless. Feelings. I want to feel the strong gush of emotions that would overwhelm me and break me into a million pieces. I want the maddening thrust of feelings and to really know what that feels like. I feel like a piece of rock, not capable of feeling anything. Pain, happiness, love, hate- I don’t feel anything. Nothing drives me, nothing pushes me to my deepest darkest core of senses. I can’t feel anything in its brute force. Every feeling fizzles out. I want to hold it tight sometimes, but its flimsy bubble like skin, dissolves in a blink.

As a baby when I would be taken for injections, I never cried. The place would be a noisy hell with wailing howling babies and I would take in the needle piercing through my fragile skin with a soft subdued tick. Did I not feel anything? Is there something really wrong with me? When I was a toddler my mom would ask me- “Hey do you want this thing (e.g. something to eat)?” and very nonchalantly, I would say- “Sure, if you want to give, or not. . .up to you.” How could I be so indifferent?

I don’t feel passionate about anything. There are moments when I feel moved. But it’s just that. Moments. I come back to senses very soon, I don’t dwell on those feelings. I wipe my tears and wonder what I look like when I’m crying. Feeling so shallow about having that thought.

Everything in life is so mediocre. There are highs and lows, and I feel so balanced in between all of this. This feeling of serenity is good only when it is momentary. Otherwise it is a mundane empty canvas of peace. I want insanity. I want to feel the low like it is the lowest, I want to feel the high like it is the highest. It is never as good or as bad as it seems, I have always believed. It is the words that make a moment beautiful or miserable. And things that are REALLY beautiful or miserable cannot be expressed into words. That is why I feel inadequate.

Can you ever really explain what it means to be understood, each of your words, each of your thoughts understood in exactly the same contours and colours that they are in your mind? Can you ever express what that moment feels like when you hold your baby for the very first time? Can you ever completely describe the view of the Himalayas standing at the top of a mountain after hours of climbing? Can you even begin to explain what it feels like to bury your father?

I think I am not capable of feeling intensity. I am too balanced for my own liking. I do not fight for what I want. I would try to make do without it, may not be happily so. But I would settle. I don’t remember the last time I wanted something like crazy that I couldn’t live without. I don’t know if it is a good thing. Being balanced has helped me in my life, I have not driven myself and others nuts (ok perhaps sometimes I have) and been level headed. Or maybe I cannot deal with intense feelings and I give in. I get worked up and try to find a middle ground. All my life I have yearned for perfection- that right blend of things. The golden mean path. The best of both worlds. And in that longing, I have never fully completely totally immersed in an all consuming feeling of anything. The feeling of being completely drenched and soaked in the pouring rain of any sensation.

I want to feel. I want to devour. And be consumed. But nothing feels good enough. Or perhaps everything is only just good enough.

Edited to add: I looked back to think where this may have emerged from. This is from all the soul-searching when I couldn't figure what my passion in life was. 'Passion' is such an overused term. People seem to be passionate about everything these days. But I am not sure if people understand the intensity behind that word. I think I am still trying to find my passion, the thing that drives me everyday to wake up with enthusiasm and gives me a good sleep at night. I have found it in bits and pieces in my life, but nothing that I can't stop running after.