Everyone seems to be talking about the lessons they learnt over the past year. So here's the same, but with a little twist:
Lankan Lessons Learnt in 2013
1. Avoid Borella after 10 a.m. at all costs. Ted would probably tell his kids who their mother is before you manage to drag yourself through the House of Fashion traffic.
2. Buying a good dress in Colombo is next to impossible, unless you are will to sell an organ for the cash.
3. Aana Maalu is not a fish.
4. The geeks are actually kind of cooler than the jocks. (The muscles on them thumbs after hours of gaming; daaayum, son.) :3
5. The female drivers here actually kind of suck. *runs for cover*
6. Soya meat is amazing. (why did I not try this before??)
7. I may be able to sit through a blood-curdling, spine-tingling horror movie, but the sight of a gecko STILL gives me the heebee jeebees.
8. If you ever hire a meter tuk, be sure to know how to reach your destination, else you might end up paying Rs.500 for a Rs.300 ride. (True story.)
9. Bailatronic (Electric baila) is the bomb, even though, initially, you are confused as to what moves you should be busting.
10. Stepping into a petti kade is probably a similar experience as walking onto the set of The Fear Factor. (the mice in there tend to be as big as cats)
11. Rugby seems to be the new cricket. Better watch out, Sanga.
12. The new road network is a job well done, even though locating it closer to Colombo, rather than the other end of the island, might have been more convenient. Just saying.
13. People DO swear and ALMOST make out in Sinhalese movies.
14. All it takes is to host an international conference in Colombo, and suddenly, it's like an early Christmas break for everyone.
15. Certain advertisements and the words printed on the back of some trishaws have typos that provide more entertainment than stand up comedy. (No, I do not want free cock with my kottu. Yuck.)
16. Like our certain dignified parlimentarians, some of our youth, occasionally, seem to lack all forms of common sense.
17. There is more faith placed in Samahan and Koththa Malli over "suddange beheth" when it comes to curing a cold.
18. You think they drag out shows like How I Met Your Mother? Try watching Mahagedara and Praveena.
19. It is customary that a party here ends with a baila session.
20. You may know people from around the globe, but at the end of the day, there's no one who will understand your Lankan drama like a fellow Lankan.
Not pretty enough. Not skinny enough. Not smart enough. Not popular enough. Not talented enough. Not good enough. The thought of never being enough. It haunts you and follows you like a shadow; the proverbial black cloud that always rains on your parade. You look at yourself in the mirror, and what do you see? Someone you wouldn't throw a second glance at, just another individual overshadowed by another seven billion. It eats at you, consumes you, devours you. It keeps you awake at night, enveloping you in a shroud of self-doubt. Insecurity.
You feel like the world is silently laughing at you, behind your back, and that your efforts; your hard work, none of it matters, because you feel that there's always someone who does it better. You feel like you always try, yet you can barely walk, forget fly. Your dreams are like a balloon, which slowly floats up with the optimism and hope that it touches the sky, only to be popped with the pin of inhibition.
Nobody knows that the girl who laughs and jokes with others about her double chin has been starving herself for months; the guy who laughs off his poor grades stays up, burning midnight oil, in an attempt to intellectually match his peers; the person who is the loudest and most jovial at the party cries herself to sleep every night. It is the ones who seem the happiest that cry the most; the ones that seem the strongest that feel broken; the ones surrounded by many that are the loneliest.
Insecurity consumes us all. We are all in the same game, just different levels; we are all in the same hell, just different devils. It makes us feel like we don't matter; like we really are an insignificant facet in this magnificent universe. That is because we live in an era where everyone, from society to the media, picks out an individual who they deem perfect -an It Girl, if you will- and tell us that unless we become like her, we will never be liked or noticed. She is perfect in every aspect; shiny hair, ravishing smile, flawless skin, the works. Every boy wants her and every girl wants to be like her. Suddenly, everyone strives to turn into her, so that they could fit into society's ideas of perfection. The ones who fail become outcasts, the social pariahs.
But realize; if you became that It Girl, wouldn't you just be a clone of so many others? Stop. Stop hating your body, the way you dress, the things you say and do. Your quirks, your vices, you 'imperfections'; they also make you, YOU. The person you are is different, is beautiful, is one of a kind. Don't listen to those who gun you down because their insecurities got the better of them. Smile. It might turn someone else's day around. Embrace what life has to offer you, be it an up or down. Be crazy, be silly, be hyper, be energetic, be yourself! Be the person you know fits in your shoes, rather than what the world tells you to be. Confidence is so hard to find, but is key.
As I sit here writing this, I realize I am not one to preach. There are days where I wish for more: a thinner body, better clothes, beautiful hair; where I wish I was anyone but me. But then, it hits me that despite my shortcomings, my kinks, my blemishes, I am the one 'me' out here. If I won't be myself, who will?
Depression. A parasite that eats at your very soul, and
slowly devours the being you once were, till you are but a mere shadow, a
semblance, of your real self. It eats at your core, leaving you in a state of
trance. Your hopes, your goals, your dreams, slowly cease to matter, till the
little facets that made you the individual you are blend in together, and are
sucked into a black hole; a void of numbness.
You don’t feel passion, anger, drive, motivation. You simply
cease to feel. Every day is a fight, a fight to retain your individuality and the person you are, a fight to show the world that you are
doing okay, that you are getting by; when in truth, your will to go on, to
survive, to continue this bleak existence in what seems a dreary world wavers.
People think they know you. They see you smiling at them,
they think you are alright, but what they fail to see is the pain and suffering
behind that strained smile. No one sees the tears you shed, not because you
feel dejected or forlorn, but simply in hope that you could feel something again. No one sees that behind the person who tries so hard
to succeed, is someone who feels like a failure. No one knows that the
individual they think has so much potential, does not see this potential in
herself.
So you think to yourself; 'why have an existence, and not a life? why not find a way to feel again?' The point of exhaustion is almost upon you; you are tired of this constant battle within yourself. And then, it starts small; a simple cut or two, where, along with the bleeding, a bit of the frustration and the pain flows free, after what seems an eternity. The feeling is -yes, I say feeling- exhilarates you, excites you, makes you feel more alive than you've felt in a long time. What started as an experiment becomes habit.
And then, one day, you realize; every time another scar blemishes your skin, every time you lose another drop of blood in your seemingly unhinged attempt to feel emotion, it isn't enough. The rush, the thrill, the excitement, just isn't there anymore. So you wonder, 'why go on, if this is how the rest of my days are to be?' You start wondering what life after death must be like, if the heavens really are paved with gold.
But, unanticipated, a small element of your inner being, pushes forward, and takes a stand. It urges you to look beyond and to do the one thing you had lost all hope of doing: fight. To fight for the person you are; to fight being sucked into a pit of in sensation; to fight the Shadow Maker.
