I activated Facebook after 2 years. What I thought would be a happy, nonchalant affair, where I would cool-ly browse through my ‘friends’ list and appreciate the good life soon turned out to be a nerve-racking experience.
You know that feeling that you get, when you see that the kid in class you never thought would do anything in life turns out to be insanely successful and a gazillion times more popular than you are? Well, pray for me, I just went through that. What sucks more is this social pressure of being the noble person who is supposed to be happy and feel ‘positive’ about their success. As much as I want to sound like a self-righteous, kind-hearted human, worthy of digital respect; I can’t say I am extremely happy for them. No, I am not. I get a hunch that you’re judging me by now, but I’m still learning the fine art of plastic positivity. Teach me how to be a saint, you noble human, you!
In an ideal world, It’s supposed to hit me, like a firebolt, that my clock is ticking and I have to take charge of my own life. I should not let laziness handicap my dreams. This is exactly when I should rise from the ashes of laziness, like a strong-willed phoenix and transform myself into a proactive adult! Just like the movies. Nothing remotely similar happened, though. It did hit me like a firebolt, but I hogged on a jar of expired blueberry cookies to get over the success stories. EASY.
Inspiration fails to inspire after a certain point. How many inspirational videos can you watch? How many self-help articles can you possibly read? It’s easy to listen to smooth-talkers and believe that the switch from a complete nobody to a phenomenal Somebody happens in ‘Five easy steps’- Starts with drinking a glass of water every morning. But the unglamorous truth, if I choose my words carefully, is that I am a unique, lousy, piece of shit that has accumulated over the years through a phase of rigorous narcissism, unhealthy lifestyle choices, make-believe fantasies of my greatness and the inability to cope with rejection. I gotta come to terms with THAT!
Every successful person, after becoming successful, talks about their difficult times in such polished monotony carved in shizz and gloss. Like they worked their ass off every single hour. Like they didn’t have times when they simply sat on the bed and watched paint-dry. I mean, life would be so much easier if they sounded like they were human too. If they just admitted that success involved 99% frustration and 1% inspiration.
Believe it or not, one of the most creative periods of my life was the result of incapacitating frustration. Inspiration is a satirical word. I got my blog ‘inspiration’ from the numerous loud-mouthed promises I shamelessly failed to keep up with, a crippling social anxiety, an unreliable love life, an empty wallet, and all my rich peers who have been consistently asking me to get a life!
There’s sense in embracing frustration as your crazy, albeit faithful, girlfriend, I tell you. Happiness, like the demanding damsel, would strut around till you serve it, then crush you, knock you breathless and ditch you for a better suitor. Give frustration a chance. Watch the baby strangle your comfort–zone and inspire you. Even if the inspiration is just to get your ass off the internet and get things done!