As you took me in your arms
And carried me over
the three foot-tall step
We were the only two people
That mattered in this entire universe
We kissed
Made love
I snuggled against your shoulder
You held me close
It was over in five seconds


The missed birthday: A letter to myself

So okay. I know you shouldn’t dwell on the past. Nothing can change what’s already happened. But if things had gone according to plan, maybe today could have been my 26th birthday. My mom’s gynaecologist had set the due date for 23rd Feb 1988. But as it turned out, I was born on 5th December 1988. Three months premature. And as a result I suffer from spastic cerebral palsy. On every 23rd day of February, I can’t help but wonder how life would’ve turned out for me if I was born in February instead of December.

Among other things I’d be 26 instead of 27. Hence a little over 25 and not precariously close to 30. This would also mean that the pressure to settle down will not be that hard to handle. Also, I might actually have been looking forward to it because I’d definitely have a boyfriend. Hell, maybe I’d be married already. Who knows. It’s sad to think that being able to walk would make all the difference when it comes to having a life partner because it really REALLY shouldn’t be that way. AT ALL. But here I am, typing it out and being living proof of the very same unbelievable fact. Maybe I was born in the wrong country. No. I definitely was born in the wrong country. If I was born as scheduled I wouldn’t have a disability. Therefore I’d be living a pretty great life. I could drive anywhere at anytime. I could wear high heeled shoes and rock a tiny dress without having to be insecure about how my legs look. I’d have taken up dancing. It’s possible that by now I may even have been choosing a colour scheme and theme for a nursery for my own baby, instead of my friends’ babies. See one of the things that completely depresses me is that I may never be able to become a mom. I might never experienced morning sickness, never feel my baby grow inside me. And I may never experience the nervous anticipation of giving birth and finally being able to hold my baby. I’d perhaps have become the photo journalist I always wanted to become. I can’t help but feel robbed of a wonderful life.

But maybe everything happens for a reason. Maybe I was supposed to be born in December rather than February because if I wasn’t disabled, I’d never probably have an overwhelming concern for other human beings in distress. My level of understanding about everyone is a tad sharper because I understand that life for anyone could be so so difficult and come with a unique set of problems for every individual. I know everyone, every single one of us has a story. What’s easy for you could be so extremely difficult for another person. Like using the bathroom, for example. Maybe I was born this way so I could be of some use to people who are in need of some understanding, if nothing else.

I don’t know. That’s how I comfort myself. That’s how I cope with CP in general and the 23rd of February every year.



You know, sometimes I do wonder whether I pushed you away from me. Whether I had a chance to tell you how I feel about you but didn’t, because it’s ‘not nice for a girl to appear needy’. I have this overwhelming and possibly damaging sense of pride. I did not want to be rejected. I did not want to appear desperate. I did not want you to think that I’m totally crazy about you which I totally was. And also you had a complicated messy relationship with a girl which was falling apart at the seams. I think her tears and your conscience kept gluing it together. I didn’t want to be involved in any of that either. I didn’t want to be cursed by a good girl for taking her man away when she was trying so hard to keep him. No I couldn’t do that to her. I also didn’t know what you were doing. Did you want me only as a distraction? For some fun? And when things smoothen out between the two of you, you can pretend I never existed? I was so confused.

But I also revelled in the tiniest, most insignificant of moments where we were alone and you would do something so simple but it would make my day. Like that time when you told one of our friends to move seats so that you can come sit next to me. And then you proceeded to put your arm over my shoulder. Harmless and super friendly. But also, amazing for me since here I was crushing so hard on you and you actually forcefully sat next to me and put your arm across my shoulder and pulled me close (omggg). God knows I wanted so much to snuggle against you but I resisted. It was so special to me cause no guy I ever liked has done such a thing. Also smearing my face with ice cream on my birthday. No guy has done that and I found it to be extremely cute. I was melting inside faster than the ice cream on my face but oh well I pretended to be slightly annoyed. I revelled in those tiniest of moments. Because I never had them before. Dating or flirting was never strong points of mine. I’ve never dated. It is so difficult with my disability to find a guy who’d be willing to go out with me in this country. So you paying special attention to me was so special for me. When you showed me a thumbnail of a hot picture of yours that I didn’t actually recognise, and you asked me whether I’d like to go out with that guy (you) I said yes. Then you showed me the actual pic and I mocked you saying you photoshopped yourself. I don’t know. Later that was an oh my god moment for me. Like oh my god did he ask me out? The next day you showed me the same thumbnail and I ignored it. I don’t know. What the hell were we both doing? All I know is that those moments meant so much to me. Like when you called me beautiful. But if I do know anything, it’s that it’s too late now. For me. For both of us.

Memories of 14 February

I don’t believe in the concept of valentines day. At least, I believe that I don’t believe in it. That being said, I’ve harboured some sort of crazy hope that my crushes of yesteryear would make some sort of move on me on February 14 for as long as I remember. Let’s say for example that in 2007 I had a crush on guy X, then depending on when started crushing on him I’d be hoping that he’d make a move on me and finally reveal his true feelings for me on 14 February 2007 or 2008. If the crush continues into the next year, it’s the same. Perhaps even more intensfied in my hope. As usual nothing happens. It was the same in 2007 with guy X, same in 2010 with guy Y, same with guy Z in 2012. I must also say that I didn’t harbour a completely invalid wish. All of these guys were ones who’d expressed some sort of interest in me. So you could say I had reason to hope. I fervently check my phone, my Facebook in hopes of finding at least a wish from them. But nope. Nada. This year however, it was different. I’ve had a crush on the same colleague since end of 2013 and I’m moving away from it now. It would help expedite things if he didn’t have such a cute smile and an even cuter butt! 😉 But oh well! This year I didn’t expect him to do anything at all. And of course, he didn’t. I actually did not remember that it was valentines today till I saw my twitter flooded with posts about where to have the best date tonight and how to survive this day if you’re single. So I’ve been thinking, have I finally grown up? Or am I finally accepting that if something is meant to happen, it somehow will? Or have I become hopeless?