Alter Ego (and a little something called K-Pop)

Maybe the person had always been there. Maybe I didn’t choose to see it. I tried pushing it away, trying my best to keep it at bay. But then one day, it came back crashing like a high tide and look away pieces of me till all that remained was an alter ego.

I had accepted it. I did. I had completely embraced it as my own. I even fed it with dark thoughts and melancholy. The youthful soul watched from afar, trying to creep its way back. But it was shut out each time, silenced by the pride and contempt that had built its home in me. It blocked out everyone and everything, including myself.

And what happens inside a universe – the mind- remains in shadow for everyone outside. And in such cases, mistakes happen on both sides, because each is unaware of what is happening within the other.

I missed myself. The person who talked, smiled and laughed. But I was okay with the alter ego. It showed me things that I would’ve missed otherwise. I felt a strange pride in knowing what my darker self taught me, even though it separated me from the common world; my world. It acted like a thorny shield, hurting everyone that tried to get close to me, help me or hurt me. I took masochistic delight in hurting myself and others. Confronting the bitter truth marveling at it. I remember an incident where my mother talked about positive and negative energies in both spiritual and physical worlds. I remember myself, mentally smirking as I compared myself to the negative energy that exists in the world.

To sum it up, I had nothing but contempt for my existence as a human being and humanity itself. “Sometimes being human sucks.” This is what I said to my ‘friend’ who tried correcting me on my harsh remark on a grievous  accident that took place in the city. I disliked humanity as a whole; I didn’t resent terrorism. I didn’t repent deaths. I deliberately prevented myself from feeling things, which however, did not lessen my pain. Ask me how it is like to be the bad guy, I have experienced all of it, maybe except the feeling of murdering someone, which too I would be privileged to feel, given the circumstances. (No, not really. It’s a dark joke).

I was fourteen, when I violently smashed a chair on the floor IN MY CLASSROOM, because I was angry and frustrated. It was the first time in my entire school life that I hadn’t spoken a single word to a single person at school. My friends were already scared from my apparently changed behavior, when they witnessed my monstrous side. I remember the fear on their faces as they stared at me in disbelief. I remember staring almost passionately at the ground as I stormed out of the classroom and led myself to a desolate corner of the building, to be consumed by guilt. Luckily, back then, owing to my popularity among classmates, the news didn’t spread. I now wish it would’ve, because getting out of school is something that I desire more than anything presently.

There were issues. There were many issues, which would take more than 10 pages to narrate, so I’ll let it pass.

Things kept going the same way. Regular anxiety attacks. A lot of crying (which no one noticed). Days and nights spent under my table ( it was calming, it still is to be honest). Outbursts and other serious shit.

Then, something came in, and pulled me back to my senses. I’ll tell you what it was. The sense of consciousness, the sense of being human. I know I had nothing but contempt for humans (including myself), but I started to realize that just because something is evil, or isn’t all good, doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful (yeah, age of Ultron reference, so what?). I discovered myself admiring the beauty in aspects of human life such as, caring for another, harmony, laughter and consciousness itself. All of the things that I considered trivial and petty, seemed special in their own ways. Maybe they aren’t special at all. But either way, these aspects of consciousness are what we are here for. We might as well be dead, if not for these little, trivial things. I may want to become a bird, but it doesn’t mean I have to have resentment towards human life. A bird doesn’t acknowledge the privilege of flying, it simply can’t and no one can do anything about it. The same way, I might not acknowledge the fact that I exist, but that does NOT mean I have to want to die. Yeah, it’s that complicated. Not sorry though.

One of the many things that made me acknowledge consciousness (I am not trying to make it sound deep and dramatic anymore, but there is no other way to say it),  is-

[Mental conflict]

-wait, should I?

-Yes, I should.

[*deep breath*]


Oh, I already mentioned it in the title. Oh, how I regret my life. Wait, don’t stop reading yet. I just thought I should give some serious credit to the beautiful thing that is K-Pop, for restoring (or rather, disassembling/reorganizing) my life, which would have otherwise been in ruins or would have ceased to exist. (As if I have a life now) .


As I thought this post would get too long if put it all here, I’m gonna put this link to another post where I rant about the ‘whats’ and ‘whys’. You might……not want to read it which is okay. But you should, because it’s worth it. Yeah.

Acknowledging K-Pop








Acknowledging K-Pop

This post is going to contain cringe-worthy, new age words and random social media language. But it does not mean it’s not deep and meaningful (no sarcasm intended). Bear with the non-sophisticated English and poetically exaggerated normal statements. This is what is called ‘The Fangirl Language’.

So…exams were on the verge, when I unfortunately tumbled upon a reaction video of my favorite youtuber, where he reacted to K-Pop. I really liked his videos, so I thought “Let’s check it out, besides it doesn’t harm to gain knowledge about different genres.” That’s all I did before I fell into this really tiny black hole (random physics fact: the smaller, the denser), known as K-Pop. It took over my i-tunes playlist, Youtube home page and you can name anything and I’ll find a way to relate it to K-Pop . (Also, I haven’t clicked on a single video of my ‘favorite youtuber’ in the last few months, even though I received notifications. He brought it upon himself, to be frank.)

On a more serious note, it is not the catchy music or pretty faces that got me into it (those are few of the reasons, not the only ones and probably not the most important ones). What won my affection towards them  is the energy that reflects in their performances. It gets me more hyped than  anything, but at the same time it is surprisingly calming. For example, my anxiety hasn’t showed up in a while, so that’s pretty something. I’m also not bothered by the usual shit that happens in life. So basically my life is pretty dope. Maybe this is just a phase, but can I just acknowledge it for a moment even though this maybe be temporary?

The reason why their performances are different from other artists across the world is that, their performances reflect their labor. You can literally see the amount of effort and hard work that they radiate while they are on stage or in front of the camera. You can see passion for their art in their act, despite the fact that they make everything look effortless. They amaze you with their flawlessness. There is a different charm about them, a unique aura that fits the definition of ‘perfection’ so well.

The first time saw them, what I thought was “Koreans are so hardcore. This is completely badass. How can they be so perfect?” And then at one go I fell in too deep. That’s when I discovered the not so pleasant truth. They do not simply acquire that attitude and perfection owing to their fitness and flexibility which is common to all East-Asians. There is a LOT going on inside those luxurious buildings and practice rooms. I discovered a few heartbreaking videos of them working themselves till the point they couldn’t anymore. They’ve been through shit and they are still going through shit. I’ve seen clips of them fainting on stage, behind the stage and in public places. And it hurts to see them let their guards down like that. They become trainees in these entertainment companies at extremely early ages like 12 to 16. And they train for a seriously long period the maximum being 6 years. Some of them drop out of school and some don’t.  Many have to continue school amidst long hours of training; 10 hours plus extra training. I don’t have a lot of knowledge about their diet but I’ve heard a lot that they have to undergo strict dieting as well. Sometimes, you can see their fatigue in some performance videos if you look closely enough.

I am not going to name any idol or group, but there are so many musical geniuses that make music about dead serious issues like politics and the youth. And something common about all groups is that their music videos (we call them MVs) are all based on specific theories. You may think it’s all about the dance, the choreography and the aesthetic, but it’s much more than that. So much more that it’s hard to imagine. Therefore it is important to give loads of credit to the fans who sit all day writing countless pages of theories on the MV’s and albums. All their MV’s are related and every shot, every camera angle and every object in the videos means something , most often leaving the fans in utter confusion. Fans have to deal with a lot too, okay? Hats off to them.

Yeah, so, the theories and underlying meaning will shock you. K-Pop itself is a piece of art.

The most important aspect of the K-Pop community: the invaluable relationship between the idols and fans. I think I need to mention that the first thing that amazed me when I watched a K-Pop performance for the first time (21st Century Girl by BTS, which is not even their best song), was the amazing response of the fans. It was as if the fans were one with the boys. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. I immediately knew that these fans were dedicated, disciplined and compassionate. They didn’t just scream or chant the lyrics. They sang along and it sounded melodious. The fan-chants gave me goose bumps (yes, each group has its  fan-chant and they are very creative). Check this out:

EXO-L singing Promise

The love shared between the fans and the idols is far beyond words. I can’t even fathom the right words to explain it. They’ve cried for each other. Idols genuinely acknowledge their fans and give them all the credit for their success. They have written songs for fans. You also have this thing called ‘fan service’ which is pretty self-explanatory. They do shit (ranging from cute to explicit stuff) just for the sake of fans and god bless whoever  created this thing. But this goes beyond just projects and buying albums and fan-service. For the idols, the stage, the cheers, performance, that’s their life. As I said, I’m not naming anyone, but I’ve seen them crying and apologizing to fans because they couldn’t perform due to injuries. They are so hard on themselves and it literally makes me wanna cry. (I have cried, for hours). And the fans know how hard they work. Most often you find fans not being desperate for a comeback (a new album or single). Whenever a comeback is announced, fans express joy but they’ll be like “Shouldn’t you take a break? You’ve been working so hard. Take a break and we’ll wait for you a little longer.” Where do you find this kind of love and understanding? They fight together laugh and cry together. They’ve been through shit TOGETHER. K-Pop fandoms are the best. If you have anything against it, I’m calling in my fellow ARMY-Ls to explain which you clearly wouldn’t want.

And I just spilled my bias groups, which is okay. (If you don’t understand: ARMY-L is the joint fandom of EXO and BTS, one of the most powerful).

Yeah, I’m calm. Alright.

*gathers shit*

I was cold. Yes. Nothing could make me laugh (except intelligent Tony Stark jokes and Marvel memes) I was passive aggressive as fuck (I warned you about the language). I hated my classmates, my teachers, school, home, family literally everything besides my computer, guitar and books. And then I saw THEM. I have no idea how, but they made me realize that I’m human. I think it was their genuineness that made me believe they were ‘real’ humans (despite the fact that they’re inhumanly pretty) unlike  general artists, who lose their virtues because of fame. These guys? They just get more and more humble with every ounce of success that they earn. They are very social, which is why I found videos of them in their dorms, living their normal lives, in their normal conversations. I’ve never found human interaction so fulfilling and necessary before this. They were not band mates or colleagues or friends. They were brothers. Somehow, the way they interacted with each other, laughed at the stupidest of jokes and did dumb stuff for no valid reason drew me in. And after a really long ass time, I finally believed that I could be happy around people. That I was allowed to laugh, enjoy, be silly and not regret it. All my teenage life I’d wanted only isolation from humans. But suddenly I wanted to live like them. I didn’t like them (I did actually), I wanted to be them. I wanted to experience what it is like to live with your brothers and do weird things without hesitation (what most Americans would call being gay). They have also witnessed the departure of several members, which affected both them and the fans brutally. It was like losing members of your own family. I hadn’t experienced it, as I came into the fandom very late. However, I witnessed the aftermath, as the departure haunts their fandom till today.

I began questioning my own life (specifically after listening to a particular song regarding family and the general concept of friendship). I wondered if the noisy, squeaky, annoying girls of my school that I despise are the very people I will miss later in life, when I’m homesick and alone and when things are worse off (because you never know what’s gonna happen). Maybe they are the only family I have. Maybe this is the only thing I have. There was a time when I hated to see their smiling faces simply because I was unhappy. I thought it was a display of ignorance. I was wrong. It’s beautiful (not when it’s extraordinarily hot and their are 40 shrill voices screaming inside a small room); they are living, they are happy and it’s beautiful to watch. I can be happy with them. And on one fine day, I found myself fighting (exaggeration) with my classmates about the color of balloon I wanted (there was an event at school and we got the balloons that were put up for decoration, after it ended), practically acting like children. And then there were 16 year old kids who went around chasing people with needles bursting their balloons. It wasn’t late before I realized what I was doing and fell on the floor laughing at the class’ unseemly behavior. I was crying, I was happy.

And as I said, now my life’s pretty dope (not really).

Also if anyone ever asks me what I want to do with life my answer would be, ” I want to make people feel how EXO and BTS make me feel. That is the best feeling and possibly the best I can do with my life.” Yeah.

Sorry for the rant, I just realized that this post is hella long. Not my fault though, K-Pop is…..all of the above.

Okay bye. Peace out.

I found this appropriate for this particular post. This is the song EXO wrote for their fans. Unfortunately there are no subtitles, but you can search them up if you’re curious, they’re extremely touching. Enjoy. Saranghaja!



imagesAlso, I need help.

What Stops The Knife.

“What do you live for? If you hate life so much, what’s stopping you from ending it?”

My heart; begging me to let it feel a little more of this world and whatever it has so offer. My eyes that desire the sight of all that I had imagined on those sleepless nights; the sight of beauty in its various forms. My vulnerable skin, pleading for the sense of the seasons; cold, warm and rain. The sense of touch. My ears yearning for some more of the music that although temporarily, makes me feel complete. The sounds of the universe, the first sound of triumph that they are yet to hear. My aching intoxicated muscles, fed only by adrenaline; they still long for another day of hardcore activity, simply to assert its presence.  To feel alive. My countless dreams flashing before my eyes, pleading for more time, to let them come alive. My wandering mind, pleading for more time to think, to escape to distant corners in its own infinite home, with the promise of finding answers. Answers to paradoxical and unanswered questions of the universe and about myself.

A faint ray of light – Hope – that is trying to convince me that the present darkness does not prove I’m lost forever.

A person, who is actually me, but not presently mine, mocking at me for even contemplating such an action. She grabs me and pulls me back into the blinding brightness from the churning black void I was momentarily capsized in.

Slowly, I put the knife back to its place, as if nothing ever happened.


“Life is the opportunity to marvel at the majesty of creation. A beautiful and broken gift.”

I literally don’t know what to feel about this right now, because I have gone past the emo-phase of my life when everything seemed hopeless and depressing. However, I am the same person and it’s just that I have learnt how to deal with things. And I know no one is going to read this, but if you’re reading this, I know you are in love with life somehow, despite it being shitty. That’s exactly what I tried to convince myself and it is the truth. We want to feel so many things. There is always a part of us that is longing for more time even though our body has given up. That is because-

Wait, why am I writing all this? Grassy fields, rainbows and unicorns are not my thing. Maybe it is because I thought it was getting a little to dark and depressing. I just wanted to write something hopeful for a change (the passage is hopeful too if you interpret it correctly).


Here’s Something (yes, again):

Crywolf – Anachronism [Official Music Video]




I Am 16

Sometimes, when I’m just in the middle of something, trying to concentrate, my mind skips to this though, more like a realization – I am 16? Already?

There are times when this is not surprising at all, like growing up this fast was obvious and unavoidable. And there are also times when I’ll stare at an empty spot on the wall, tears escaping my eyes, my mind pondering about that ONE fact – I am here and I am 16. I hate being 16. I didn’t think I would make it this far, I didn’t want to. It’s scary, as much as I don’t want to admit it. It scares me.

Then there are war flashbacks – war with the mind, emotions, complications, hormones. Myself. Leaves you nauseous like a roller coaster ride. How did all the choices that I had ever made in life lead me to this place? And the most important question is, if I can call this LIFE.

Now and then, I just want to go to my mother (when she’s not pissed because of something I did), and hug her and stay like that for a while. When I tell her “I really hate school”, I want her to understand that I hate much more than school. I can’t tell whether she understands my fears or not, but all she says is “When I was your age, even a day without school seemed empty.” That made me so mad, because she knows that our lives cannot be more different. She knows that school destroys my creativity and prevents me from having a productive life. Yet all she manages to do is make that reference from her past.

A few years back, I was different. Completely different. Me from the past would have argued with my mother until she made her point. I believed I had a stand. I believed I could make a change in the world just by being myself. I had a vision. I smiled a lot, loved debating on issues and was quite popular among classmates. Something happened. Although, I’m not sure what it was. But out of the blue, everything started to fall apart. Everything changed drastically in and around me. It all happened too fast for me to be able to grasp the situation and make  the right choices. There was no sudden death,  no adversity. It was just like a cloud, jet black, that steadily swallowed up whole what I knew as ‘my world’.

I was a monster in their eyes. I could tell from the looks on their faces, they thought I was imbalanced. I don’t know whether I enjoyed intimidating them or a part of me felt sorry for myself. The sentence I heard most often from my parents and teachers is, “You’re a girl with a lot of potential. Your life would change drastically only if you knew how to channel it in the right direction.” Every time I did something I wasn’t supposed to, they said “This is not at all what is expected from you“. What I didn’t understand is, what I had ever done to make them believe I’m anything more than myself. I did not choose to be a good girl and neither did I choose to be the bad girl that I’m now. I did not choose to have good grades. All I did was study because I felt like it. And when I don’t, it’s because I don’t want to. What in the world did I do?

Now when I look back at all those shit, and then look myself in the mirror, even though the person is me, she feels foreign. She’s better looking than me a few years back, skinnier, taller and with sharper features, but it seems like she’s terribly, scarred and almost hollowed out. Back when I was a child, even though I was not an impressive person, at least the person I saw in the mirror, I knew was me. I don’t even know where the present me has come from. I have completely accepted myself, but sometimes I really start questioning whether I am real or just an alter ego.

I am 16. And I am not sure what I am supposed to do (you can’t tell me I’m supposed to study because that’s what I and everyone else my age is doing anyway). Sometimes I just feel like skin, muscles and bones that breathe and move around. I can’t not feel them because of how intoxicated with carbon dioxide they are. Everything confuses me. Everything makes me question existence. I hate being 16. But it’s the youngest I’ll ever be.

download (1)
Young Apathy


Under The Skin

**Everything that led me to this:

Exams, Korean music, obsession, pain, studying, despair, panic, inspiration, sadness, my new guitar, discovery of more Korean artists, more pain, more unexplained pain and goddamned pain that just won’t stop. And lastly, inspiration strikes.**


There are planets and stars

Forest fires, under the skin

There are tales and fantasies,

Scars that will never heal

And undiscovered feelings

Under the skin

All the words that you were told

Were sharper than a knife

Pierced right through your shield

They’ll always remain in

Under your skin

You don’t try to kill the thing under your skin

You wanna kill something that’s deep within

You wanna burn all your scars

But they’re so out of your reach

Like the planets and stars

Under your skin.


I’m stuck. I wanna write lyrics and compose songs so desperately. It’s just that the conditions in the life of a random 16 year old school girl who hates life, aren’t quite favorable for that kind of a thing. I’m still trying. I’m trying so hard. I don’t wanna get stuck amidst academics, meals and sleep like other people my age. But things just suck. Okay bye.



I usually type my works in Ms Word before transferring it here, but thanks to my crappy memory, I can’t remember the password to it. So I had to wait till I was actually angry so I could get my words back. But right now, I’m typing so hard I think I’m gonna break the keys. So let me calm down.


Anger. Sometimes I feel anger has found a permanent home in me. Like it can never fade and that when everything in the world stops making sense. When a string of random thoughts and feelings streams through my mind. Nothing exists in the world but me, my rage and my clenching fists. It’s seems like the objects in the room are pleading for me to destroy them. And it feels like just a touch of my hand than shatter everything that exists. I feel doomed, helpless, motionless.

I’ve done it countless times. Hit walls, broken things, torn pillows. But in the end, it didn’t make any sense. Yet it felt so good, so liberating. But every time I looked down at my hands, I felt terror and guilt. Guilt for hurting myself. It’s an odd image, but I could almost visualize the tissues tearing and bones getting wounded. Strange, how I didn’t feel any physical pain and yet feel a totally different kind of pain (like I’m Hulk. No seriously, try to understand him on a deeper level ignoring all the make believe cinematography). That’s the moment when you’re convinced that you’ve lost it and may never get your sanity back.

And then my disassembled thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door, which sends all the emotions into a pit in a deep remote corner of my mind . And that’s all it takes to get back my superficial, lifeless and dull self. That’s all it takes for the madness on my face to reassemble into a cold, ghastly, stone like visage. A knock on the door. The tsunami of emotions, tears and inaudible screams converges into a shell of masked grimness, leaving no sign of the disaster caused by it. As if someone had rewound time itself.

I cannot let them see my true self. I cannot reveal my human side. That will make me vulnerable and weak. So I shut up and sit with my head down. Take in all that the person who has entered the room has to say, which feels like a hailstorm against my hard skin, battering its shield.

I wanna shout.

I want to tell them that their accusations are doing no good to me. All they do is come in and stir up my emotions and then leave me alone to deal with it. Like, “hey this is the list of things that are wrong with you..”, and you expect me to go through some kind of self reflection after all this? How? How am I supposed to do that when there’s no space left for light to enter. My mind is completely dark and overflowing. It’s like a black hole. It sucks in all hopes of life and what remains is this infinitely dense point where all of existence comes to an end.

If you really wanna help me, don’t talk to me or advise me. I may act like I don’t care about your blames but it’s killing me. So stop. Instead, listen to me. Shut up and listen, try to comprehend. Just listen. If you wanna talk about my faults, you might as well wanna leave me alone.

Your accusations Do. Not. Help.

Please Stop.

So this is probably something I’ll never say to anyone.

Impersonating Hulk is no fun.

(Yeah, so I’m into Marvel. Don’t judge me.)


Kill The Thing Within

Something is wrong. Something is so wrong and you don’t know what that is. Now that’s called suffering.

It’s something deep inside that you want to kill. Not the pulse throbbing under your fragile skin.

It literally hurts.

When you know all these years you’ve turned yourself into stone, only to let it crumble and melt again, all over again. You lose yourself, you don’t know who you are anymore.

Wishing you weren’t born for one moment and then craving some seasoned caesar salad the moment after. You try to blame someone for what’s causing you pain, but you can’t because – You Don’t Know What’s Wrong.

You cry in front of a million people and no one notices, because you have so perfectly mastered the art of faking. You lay in bed shaking, whimpering and the person next to you is completely unconscious of it, because  no one knows silent screaming better than you.

When you’ve lost all hope, and drown in your tears and then slowly fall asleep, because you still have the hope for going for a run in the fields the next morning.

You don’t know what’s real anymore.

You try to live as normally as possible but that freaking thing inside your brain won’t stop coming back. It triggers the pain, the clueless feeling.

And just when you realize that you still have feelings because you find yourself caring for people, something in your mind tells you that it’s a shame – that you’re a bad person, and it should remain that way, that you must shut everyone out even though you love them because…you are doomed. Something tells you that none of this real life shit belongs to you.

I don’t know whether it’s the people or a person himself, that creates his demons. All I know is that it’s getting terribly hard to kill them. But I’m trying to find out, and maybe in that process, I’ll destroy mine.

Here’s Something (warning: it may be displeasing):

Crywolf – The Hunger In Your Haunt (Official Visual)