I feel like doing a little therapy session with
myself today so that’s what this is going to be.
When I was 11, I found a website that let
me to talk to random strangers online. You know those warnings your parents
gave you? Stranger danger? Don’t talk to people over the Internet? Yeah, I ignored
all of that. I met some… questionable people on the site and learned a few
things I shouldn’t have had at that age, (probably needed some adult
supervision), but I also met some genuinely nice and interesting people to talk
to.
We talked about religions, families, mental
health. You know? “Deep” stuffs. Briefly speaking, the stories I encountered
helped put me outside of my own bubble. I learned that it’s a whole different
world out there. It was probably around this time too that I started to develop
my interests in psychology that I first decided to pursue my study in that
field. Well, that didn’t happen. Anyways it isn’t until this year that I
realized how much of a bigger impact all of those conversations have on me. Yall
it took that long.
When I was talking to those strangers, I
was talking to them in English. Well, not talk talk. We texted. And at
11, my English sucked. But I learned to express my thoughts more
eloquently, even if it was through texts, even if it was in my broken English. And
if I take a look at myself today, I know that I’m more comfortable expressing myself
in English. It’s not because I think I’m good at it or because I think it’s
cool. It’s simply because despite it being my second language, it was the first
language in which I learned to articulate my thoughts and feelings. I guess you
can see that in the way this blog is written. I’m better at writing than I am
at talking. It isn’t to say that I’m good at writing, it’s just that the
bar is set pretty damn low when it comes to my communication skills.
Speaking of writing (nice segue), it’s definitely
one of those things that help me through a lot. I started writing poems since I
was 12 and through that form of art, I discover myself more and more. Through
finding the right words to write, I learn new things about myself from dissecting
my emotions and figuring out what they mean. Sometimes the words are
exaggerated, the emotions amplified and I make bigger deals out of nothing, and
I get myself confused. But in thinking that it’s nothing more but a form of art,
it helps me to not take myself too seriously. Like the poems themselves,
sometimes I overestimated the matters at hand. This is of course only based on my
writings about my feelings and experiences. No one has to agree with
it.
Relax!
It's all an act, it's all an act
None of this is a fact
No one's sticking out their neck
For the sake of some claps.
Oh honey, don't take it too hard
It's art, it's art
No one's falling apart
No one's tearing their heart
No one's bleeding out.
And if they are,
It's all art, it's all art.
(I feel like this blog has slowly become an
excuse for me to talk about my own poems because I’m narcissistic like that.)
I guess the point of this entry is talk
about why I do things the way I do. When it comes to a human being, there’s so
many things that can make up a person. It’s the accumulation of experiences,
thoughts, genetics, perspectives, religions, knowledge, what have you. There’s
a reason why someone is the way they are. And this is me talking about some of
the reasons I am the way I am. But of course my experiences are not an excuse
for me to dismiss the idea of improving my skills in communication because I
know I have a lot more to learn. Understanding where I come from and the
underlying factors of my flaws is the first step for me to start bettering
myself. Those factors should not serve as an ammunition.
Well, that is all I have for today. I actually
have two other entries that I wanted to write but this one felt a little
urgent. Until next time then.
-Nik.
Nik Fateen. An introvert trying to find home in a foreign space.