Change: Such a hard thing

I played around with the idea of writing something more ‘normal’ something more apt for the general public to read, but unfortunately I’m not used to normal. I know this isn’t the most traditional way to go and most people reading this would be quick to judge, but I have learnt the hard way that people will judge no matter how good a person you are.

This is a very small post, but it’s something close to my heart, change is a hard thing I guess this sums it up. Of course this is only the first part, just keep an open mind while reading this. 

She cried again, blaming herself for most of what went wrong. She blamed herself because suddenly she was losing her grip on everything she worked so hard for. Her carefully knit life was falling apart, and the thread she used was disintegrating, it was withering away. With every new stitch she felt the pain of the needle now completely rusted. She kept stitching even though it hurt. The problem was, she didn’t know any other way. She didn’t know how to stitch herself back a different way, she couldn’t see the brand new needle kept there nor could she see the stronger thread. All she could see was the old; her eyes were accustomed to the old. She thought, maybe if she tried something new she would lose everything she worked so hard to get. She was scared of the loss; she was scared of the change. If only she noticed the new needle there maybe then the stitches wouldn’t hurt as much. But she can’t see it; rather she doesn’t want to see it. She’s scared of change, and a new needle means change. 

Just Believe .

So I’ve been playing around with the idea of starting a blog for quite a while now, mostly because most of what I write isn’t ‘good’. I like writing about experiences, my own experiences, and people don’t get that a 19 year old can feel so much, so they do this thing, they ‘Judge’.  So starting a blog is a hard thing to do, mostly because I know that there are those few people who are going to ‘Judge’ but I think I need to get over that, the fear of being ridiculed, and I guess this is my shot at it.

I think if people have to ‘Judge’ they would judge anyway, if people have to talk they’d talk anyway, so here’s something to talk about.

And here is my first official post. J

BELIEVE

Have you ever seen a child with dyslexia? Have you noticed the way he or she acts in public? Most children are diagnosed with more than one learning disability, excluding the ones with actual disabilities. Having a learning disability makes you less of a person, it makes you lame, uncool, a loser, a dumbass, an outcast and not to forget ugly (even if you're pretty and have L.D, you're ugly) unless of course you're a part of the cool kids, but not many L.D kids are a part of the cool kids. Not many dyslexic girls have boyfriends or play sports. So bottom line they're good for nothing, most of them are better off as servants or rag pickers. Most of them might just end up there. So they're no good they don’t have a thought process or feeling, so it’s okay to make fun of such people. They don’t think like normal people, most of all they are beyond useless. Well that's what normal, mean, obnoxious people say anyway.

I like such people.  I like the unwanted, I like the outcasts, I like the -not by society's standards pretty- ones. I like them, more over I am one of them.

When I was in the 4th standard my mum took me to ‘Sion hospital’ to check if I'm dyslexic.  I was about nine, and yes I turned out to be dyslexic, and some more terms I don't really remember. I made more than a billion trips to that really depressing place. I remember going home after I finally got the reports, I was embarrassed and angry and so screwed up. I hated God for what he'd made me. I hated the fact that I turned out to be 'dumb' I hated the fact that I was not normal. I hated every bit of it.

I used to paint and write stupid lame poems, and I used to draw too. I’ll never forget the day I gave all that up, I will never forget the day I accepted my disability as a curse. I tore all the pages, every little dream I had, I tore it. And there I sat accepting my fate. I never told anyone in school I kept this dirty little secret in. Till it all blew up in my face.

I was 14 when the harsh truth was out. On top of already being a loser, I was also an outcast with dyslexia.  You know I tormented myself over it, of course I had perks. Every L.D student gets amazing perks, but I was still embarrassed.  And then the inevitable started the rumours, the looks, and the unforgettable laughs. You know it hit me so hard I lost hope in humanity. If my peers weren't enough the teachers too made fun of me. You see a person with L.D isn't supposed to be able to write more than a paragraph in pure English, without a typo. They were right. I sank downwards into this lovely corner called self-pity. And there I remained for the rest of school.

But you see it’s not actually a curse. It’s more of a blessing. I think dyslexic people are kinda crazy, off track and so stupid, we feel a lot, we smile at random stuff, we talk too much, we think too much and we love too often. And that's the cool part, once we accept this thing, once we accept who we are, we sort of become this crazy creative minds that the world full of ‘normal people’ could never fathom.

I remember the day I wrote my first story, I remember a friend of mine telling me I should be a writer, I remember hearing those words and getting oh so excited. I remember my English teacher from school tell me I was darn good at English, I remember when she told me to never give up. I remember my French professor from college tell me I’m more than my failures, I remember her tell me I can be who I want to be, I remember the way she believed in me. I remember those teachers who made fun of me, I remember how they laughed at my failure, I remember how they told me to give up. And I did give up; I gave up so many times. And then I remembered the people, who believed in me. I have L.D, I’m a loser and I’m a dork, that makes me, me. I’m happy with the way things turned out.

Based on my reports, I'm not smart and I have L.D.

Well screw the reports I have something bigger. I have a dream, and the most important part I have God, and I’m pretty sure he has a beautiful plan in mind for me.

I think I'll be a writer. I think I’ll make history. 

Ps. Being a dork is badass.