to be fascinated these days

conversations about the time potential didn't exist, heartbreaks, warmth of child-like memories and finding your passions once again

Hi <3

It’s been a while. I’d love for you to know me again. But before we begin,

get comfortable,

grab your beverage of choice,

and hope you enjoy your stay x

During a particular conversation, my partner told me, “I miss being fascinated”

And that has stayed with me since.

My years in London have given me great memories. but at the same time, it was one of the most terrible times I’ve ever had in the past two decades of my life.

I reconnected with my childhood best friend. Found new friends, just to lose them again. A few have stayed, and the others never served their purpose. Mistook intimacy for love, again and again and,

you guessed it, again.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t an academic weapon. Spent most of my allowance on books, which I will never regret. Spiralled in embarrassing moments that I couldn’t forgive myself for. Stumbled upon love when I had given up on it.

And just when I was having fun, my time was up.

London was a rollercoaster and just when the adrenaline kicked in, and I knew how to be on one — the sun had set. The day was over and I was being driven back home. In my case, flown.

My experiences were so personal, I had become “difficult to read.” And I don’t think that is a bad thing, because we as humans are meant to hold multitudes. But my experiences aged me. The burden of reality was too much to carry.

And as a result, nothing excited me. nothing fuelled my passion. I was working on autopilot, saying and doing things to just get through the day. I stopped being present.

I didn’t expect this to happen but I lost my ability to be fascinated. To be hopeful. To look forward to how my life ahead might play out because I had made peace with my disappointment.

That this is how things are going to be. You can’t do anything about this. I had become the very piece of advice I despised. I internalised the theory — “The world is harsh and this is how things are.”

However, I could be anything and anyone I want in London. Do anything I want. But when I moved back, the social limitations of my home country leaked into my self-expression. And this theory seeped into my bones and found its home in my anxiety.

This is how things are.

This is how the world works.

I miss being a child.

When I could just pick a book and be lost in it for days. I used to skate, dance, sing, act, write, read — and I didn’t have to be good at it. There was never any need to.

The random flickering store sign on my street used to fascinate me. Years stretched before me and I worried about nothing. Oh to do things with no expectations. There was pressure to excel, but they weren’t set by you. You did those things because you wanted to. Fear of failure didn’t incapacitate me. I was the golden gifted child.

It was never easy for me to make friends, but I could talk to anyone without being shy. I didn’t have to think about self-assurance. I was unafraid to put myself out there, and a google sheet could never find me.

I felt alive. Not because of anything around me, but solely because I could make the most out of any situation. Everything was fun. Part of trial and error. Part of growing. I was curious about anything and everything even when if my questions remained unanswered.

The point being, I wanted to know everything. To question why things are the way they are. Yet, my naive lens of how things should be still make sense to me. My principles haven’t changed.

Why should a child change for a world that’s unjust? Shouldn’t the world make an effort?

But moving to an entirely different continent, challenged everything I ever knew. I ever learnt. One heartbreak after the other shatters something so integral to you.

You never want to fail again. Never feel defeat.

So, you stop trying.

You make yourself smaller and smaller. You stop living your life as your own.

Whereas watching others live theirs to the fullest was an arrow to your heart. It’s a painful reminder of — if only I could. If only I did. You see them thrive, go places, adapt like they have always lived here. Your heart grows heavy — that’s how you expected our life would have turned out. You worked so hard to retreat into a shell you didn’t know existed.

And you do nothing.

This is new. The feeling, the reckless take on your life, the self-seclusion.

Your perfectionism stunts you to the extent that you feel like anything you do, will not be enough. will be pointless. So you let this protect you like an ancient amulet. Hoping it would choke your fears.

You learn to stay in the shadows. Because if you never put yourself out there, you will never fail. You will never cringe. You will never regret. Every picture of myself twist my gut. I didn’t want to be perceived. I didn’t want to be recognised.

Deep down, I knew this is stemming from the feeling of not wanting to be hurt. But it does just that. Keeps you from anything that could bring you any emotion. Joy, sorrow, rage, laughter — you are only filled with envy and regret.

Yet you missed the warmth of your brilliance. You’d see a friend take up your old interest and wonder, what happened to mine? why did I stop doing this?

And each time you wondered, every time you yearned to be yourself — your armour cracked.

Your brain constantly kept you from getting back to your brilliance because you couldn’t face yourself. Couldn’t forgive yourself for being so harsh. What if I embarrass myself again?

and this fear shaped everything you felt, saw, heard, touched and believed. It wrapped its arm around you like a warm blanket on a cold winter evening, and you mistook its embrace for preservation. It kept you from exploring who you are. What your life could have been. The girl who used to run up the stairs, playing with her cousins — full of life, is gone. You are just going with the flow. one day after the other.

Only dead fish go with the flow.

And this loss feels so unfair. That constant heartache, turned you into a ghost of what you used to be. You had forgotten what grounded you. Your roots were scattered and you couldn’t retrace your steps. Until a friendly face gives you a lift back home.

All the pictures are from Pinterest! Please let me know if you recognise where it’s from!

There are days when I still slip back. Back to believing in one kind of reality. Taking it as the universal truth.

This is how things are.

This is how the world works.

But it’s not true. You do have control over your narrative. It’s made up of choices, and you can choose to be soft. To radiate kindness.

And one day, it might find its way to you.

Thank you for reading nunyums' letters! Hope you liked the goodies this month. It was made with love.

If any part of this feels familiar, feel free to comment! I’d love to hear what you think :)

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Hopefully, I will see you here often x

Wishing you a kinder sea,

- A