Autobiography of a sleepy looking person
a story of dreaminess and staring at the wall at parties
It was Saturday night in India yesterday, after going and charming some snakes and performing heavy labour in the field, I went out to party, Sunday is an off, even for people living in the third world.
Now here’s something you have to know about me, I always look dead tired, sleepy or crisis stricken. Maybe the god’s sitting up there used burgers and salty fries and everything not nice (for your body) to create me.
Also, I have this habit of aimlessly looking into one direction, sometimes thinking about my entire life, the universe or what would my face look like if my nose was a little broader? But most of the times my mind is absolutely blank.
If you see me at a public place there is a very high chance that I am creepily looking into your eyes, without even knowing you are in front of me.
Now what happens is that when I meet people they think there is something seriously wrong with me, that grief has struck me and taken me as her own. They think that life has been so cruel to me that they have to help me by rubbing the calming balm of their sympathy and obsessive (and very annoying) concern on me.
And this leads to me spending the entire night of supposed social fun in justifying that:
a) There is absolutely nothing wrong with me, maybe my life sucks, maybe I have been single for too long, maybe I want to buy clothes in the medium section and not XL, but there is really nothing wrong with me.
b) I am not talking because I don’t remember seeing a board that says, if you don’t have rambunctious conversations in a high pitched voice you will be chucked out of the bar.
c) No, nobody said anything mean to me, but the fact that you are suggesting that I will sit and sulk like a baby just because somebody passed a comment on me makes me feel really bad (why you so mean ha?).
d) It’s not the time of the month, some people have year round PMS.
e) I did not fight with my boyfriend/mother/father/distant relative from Gujarat.
f) I am feeling completely well, was actually, until I met you and sickening concern.
g) I am not very drunk or high, okay ya, maybe, a little.
Here’s an open paragraph to all those who think they need to spread cheer amongst people with a resting sad face, maybe we are happier then we look, maybe we don’t want to be excited ferrets like you, maybe our jaws hurt when we make ourselves smile too much, maybe we find your conversations extremely repetitive and boring. I know we may not be your source of entertainment or the life of the party, but we are the ones who carry you home when you’re drunk out of your mind. So please, have some compassion, stop treating us like a disease or a problem that needs to be solved by your bullshit pep-talk.
All I have to say is, live and let us internally die.
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