Words that make me Cry

There is this song, or rather a cover of this song called “The Freshman” by Josh Murley that I listen to a lot. If you know me, you’d know that a lot of my playlist is made up of covers from “The Voice” and Josh Murley was one of the contestants. It’s the perfect song to listen to when I’m on a long bus ride and it just puts my body at attention and everything else seems to quiet down as I listen to the way he enunciates each word. Maybe it’s especially so because I’m in my freshman year. My favourite part would be the chorus.

“For the life of me, I cannot remember, what made us think that we were wise, and we’d never compromise. For the life of me, I cannot believe we’d ever die for these sins, we were merely freshmen.”

I love this song so much. I think it’s one of the few songs that make me feel like physical tears mean nothing and it makes my heart feel SO heavy. Maybe I’m being sadistic, but I love feeling sad over this song. I think that honesty often carries a sliver of sadness. And this song just opens up completely about being

This song just resonates with me because I think of all the mistakes we’ve made already, barely 20 years into our lives. How stupid and unforgiveable some of them are. It takes courage to even look back on them. And I wonder who ever even qualifies for Heaven? There are so many times in life where no matter what decision we make, we lose. If we were to be judged on those mistakes too, we’re all guilty for crimes against humanity.

This makes the fact that there are probably 60 more years to go so frightening.

Today in class, Women’s Literature and the Contemporary specifically, my Professor mentioned a story of Gogol’s overcoat. Basically, this guy Gogol wrote a story about this rather uneducated clerk who gets paid very little for his work. He is so poor that he gets made fun of by his colleagues for his overcoat, tattered and torn beyond redemption.

When the teasing gets too much for him he decides to save up for a new coat. He spent a long time trying and when he finally spends most of his savings on an expensive new coat, his colleagues are surprised. He grows more popular and his officemates throw a party in celebration of a new start for him.

That same night, the man gets robbed and beaten up by ruffians who steal his new coat. Of course, he is devastated. The next day, when he reports this to his boss, asking for advice on the situation. The man’s boss gives him a complete scolding, for wasting his time over something so trivial. The overcoat is now trivial.

The scolding is so harsh that the man goes into shock. Then he falls ill and dies.

At the end of the story, everyone in the lecture theatre laughs. I didn’t though. I couldn’t. And I don’t understand why anybody did. Is the world (Or at least my lecture theatre) filled with hypocrites who can’t admit to themselves that they’ve been striving  for the approval of someone else for a huge portion of their lives? (Because for majority of us, that’sounds what got us here) Or is this world just too apathetic to see that’s exactly what the protagonist of the story tried to do?

Effort, no matter where it is directed towards, no matter intelligent and successful ones or retarded failures, is not laughable. We have all spent parts of our lives pursuing things we know are useless, things that have no meaning. No matter if we tell ourselves that it is going to lead to something meaningful or  useful. Most of the time we comfort ourselves with the theory of parallel worlds- that everything you do leads to this point. And we look back at a satisfactory point in our lives and we say “It’s all worth it.” Well, history  is dictated by the Victorious. Gogol’s story just acknowledges the fact that pursuit of things wI think values dictated and defined by other people is a life lost. And people, being the hypocrites they are, find you laughable for that.

Just a couple of weeks ago, I talked to Jem about feeling comfortable being myself. Or rather, uncomfortable.I always feel insufficient, not enough, like people are judging me. And I realized- not caring isn’t a personality trait. But a habit. My confidence comes from my stubbornness, and I am conscious about that. So I’m just going to get used to the idea that no one is looking at me. No one cares if my shorts are too short or my dress is too figure- hugging. And even if they notice, they shouldn’t.

I cry easily. When I’m tired, when I’m angry, when I’m sad. But crying isn’t a bad thing. More than feeling alone, I hate feeling vulnerable, I hate feeling like a burden. I don’t want to call anyone when I cry. Whatever negativity I have, I don’t like projecting  onto someone else. People just need to respect that.


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