To: Blog

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it.

I spy with my little tired eye, tiny as a firefly, a pebble that we picked up last July. I remember tired me listening to this song for the first time on my way back home from college. It was just a song—a good song, but just a song. I enjoyed the beginning tunes of the song, but nothing more than that.

But then a line caught my beat. A line that made tired Vidushi jump up in her seat. And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more." It felt like Taylor was pointing to me while writing this very line. It felt like she wrote it for me. All those delusional voices of mine got the validation they desired and craved from this one line. I started waiting for this same lyric to appear every time I listened to this music after that day. Simply put, it felt like mine. It just felt like those voices were mine. I could feel them mocking me, like they knew I was never going to be good enough for anything. The haunting melody and poignant lyrics seemed to echo my innermost fears and doubts. It was so unreal, like, how did she know? How did my voices make it to a Taylor song? Not good enough. I know for certain that I will never be good enough for anything or anyone, and I am fine with that. But these stray voices of mine. These whispers in my head that constantly say you should be doing more. The voices that point out each person who is doing better than me in whatever aspect of life. They never seem to let me rest, always reminding me of my flaws. Even though they are wearing me out, I don't mind them. In a strange way, they comfort me. They remind me that there is still another day for me—still another day left to quiet the voices outside my head. This is what these lines meant to me—a whisper of my inner voice. I thought they were all about me, just me, until a few days ago. Suddenly, another line struck a thought. To you, I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it. How did I lose out on this line? Where did I get lost? Were those voices not mine? Perhaps they were never truly mine in the first place; it was simply that there was a lack of comforting presence. To me, that comforting presence was you, my writing, my blog. So it felt bitter not writing any words for 6+ months now. I am sorry for neglecting you like that, my blog. I am sorry, but I don’t feel I can write anything right now. I'm simply at a loss for things to write about. Maybe I am procrastinating? I don’t know. Lately, I just feel so anxious and done with life. I don't want to do anything these days; all I want to do is sleep and eat. That is it. What exactly is wrong with me? Will I ever feel accomplished? Will I ever flourish? Will I ever be free of my guilt? Please do not lie to me, will I? I just feel so lost. I hope I can find my way back to writing soon. How long will I be a sad song?

Sometimes life feels overwhelming. I feel like I can't deal with it. My inner voices have also gone silent. Where did they get lost? Did the song take them away? Are they sick and tired of me? I don't like telling people what I'm going through, so I try to write it down to let it go. Why? Because I have a feeling they will think I am faking it. Funny, right? I am so self-centered that I believe if I told them what I was going through, they would think I was faking it. It's easier to write than speak for me. While writing, I can go back and read my sentences again, correcting errors and improving sentence structure. It gives me a sense of control over my words, which I admit is lacking in my speech right now. Writing allows me to express myself freely without fear of being misunderstood or judged.

My soul, like my AirPods, is shouting, “Please charge." I do have an AirPod charger, but where do I find the charging port for this soul of mine? It exists, right? How long will I whine? Did I drain all of its battery this time? If so, then how can I make it out alive? (K) Will my soul just say “power off” and die? I feel good after writing; that’s it, maybe? All I need to do is write. Just rant about life to you. When I originally started writing this blog, I tried to write each sentence perfectly, but I quickly realized I couldn't. That's not me, all cheerful and perfect. That isn't how my life is. Life is raw, sad, and depressing; only a small percentage of it is happy. We will spend our entire bitter and unhappy lives chasing those little happy moments, and it is worthwhile. Those tiny moments of smiles overpower it all. Writing is that tiny bit of bliss for me. I might not write all happy and sunny, but it's real. It's honest. And that's what matters most to me. It makes me feel all happy and cheerful. That is why, To you, I can admit that I am just too soft for all of it. Yours lovingly, ~Vidushi Anand