your faith is strong
but I can only fall short for so long
Down the road, later on
you will hate that I never gave more to you than half of my heart
When John Mayer wrote this song he wrote a piece of my life in his words.
Imagine you walk into a room and pick up an apple. You bite into it and you suddenly realise there is an apple juicier, redder on the next table and it attracts you. You go and bite into it as well. Just when you decide to take a seat and finish the fruit you glance at a glass of milk and decide that has more nutrition value. You pick up and drink that as well. And just when you were thinking of going back to the first apple your mother enters and gives you a long lecture on food wastage.
Commitment phobic people live a nightmare. In their head and in their life.
And imagine when these commitment phobic people turn thirty. Thirty years of living a life. Of being someone’s child, of being someone’s loved on. Of being someone. Of being a commitment.
When they said write a turning thirty post I lost all words to a blank screen.
Thirty years of being Richa Singh? What was that like? And more importantly can I commit myself to it?
Last year when I wrote Twenty Nine ‘Life is too short’ lessons at Twenty nine, my husband quietly said ‘ This is a more like you post’. What he wanted to say was that ‘life is too short’ is a phrase commitment phobic people enjoy. They take some solace in the fact that their guilt is short lived.
But again, turning thirty is not turning twenty nine. I cannot smart ass myself with a ‘life is too short’ post. Can I?
Being seven was easy 😉
What was thirty years like? What is thirty years of being Richa Singh all about?
It was difficult. It was one of those long drawn movies that never climax. That look promising but never quite deliver. It was a lot of blank empty spaces filled with short highs and long lows. Thirty years of living a life that no one could create.
Thirty years of being Richa Singh.
I don’t think I can ever hold onto even half of an idea and say – this was me. But if there is something I can say it was me it has to be my insane urge to say no to peer pressure.
To be Richa Singh
I gave up alcohol
I smoked a lot more.
I gave up smoking as well.
I read a lot.
I read at parties.
I wrote in locked diaries.
I wrote on scraps of paper.
I said no to everything.
I said yes to a man.
I said yes to boys.
I said no to a girl.
I said no to women.
I walked a lot.
I ran in circles.
I sang on the streets.
I danced to many beats.
I stopped being me.
I cried myself into a new me.
I loved and lost.
I lost a loved one.
I found many loves.
I turned thirty without quite living my twenty.
That’s all? Folks.
Here’s to the next thirty.