I’m sitting alone at a familiar yet new Starbucks shop, in the middle of a faraway area. I have 10 dirhams on my wallet and I know, I will have to scour the earth for a few more just to afford the cab ride home. (As I said, this is a far area.)
And I never thought I’d say this but I didn’t know I needed this calm familiar feel Starbucks has.
Not to glorify Starbucks, but. A lot of my writing has been here, in chains of this big cafe conglomerate. Does that make me a cliche? Maybe. But it is what it is. This place has seen me craft pages and pages of what would be my work. And writing, writing will always be a part of who I am. And at the place 6000kms away from home, I feel the most at home here.
The past weeks had been crazy. I had been my craziest the past weeks. I didn’t know how to cope with the loneliness, the anxiety, and crippling fear of never being enough, of doing something wrong, of not being wanted. This was the worst bout of anxiety I’ve ever had in my entire life and it was all because of a boy. I am a sad failure of the Bechdel test and it’s sad that I had to continue writing about him.
(An aside, or a summary for those out of the loop: When Ariana Grande sang about being into a person she couldn’t breathe, believe her. It’s as surreal as you’d think it is until you figure you needed to breathe to live.)
But maybe, if I write about him, this stupid infatuation will start to get purged out of my system. I am trying to find ways to cope, to hang on to my normal. And finally, I am starting to breathe properly again.
Last night, I scrolled through four years worth of posts in Facebook. There weren’t a lot of posts, but what was there were enough memories to anchor me to who I am (was/) during those years. Who I still am, at my essence. Maybe I just needed that grounding. Maybe I just needed a reminder of who I am. Who I plan to be. So that I can go back to the right me. Not this boy-crazy, anxious girl occupying my body right now.
Maybe I’m still not alright. It still feels like I am about to crawl back and beg for attention – that I am fighting so fucking hard. But I’ve been alone for years and I turned out okay. I chased after challenges, faking the balls to do things, and achieved a fair amount of my goals. I can do this. I can overcome this. I know this. It’s back to regular programming, nothing big. I can handle this.
I will still be unstable and crazy in the coming weeks, but at least I can feel a little clarity now.