About Me — Who is Tauqeer Hussain?
“I have never wished to satisfy a crowd; for what I know, they do not approve, and what they approve, I do not know” — Epicurious
I have never fit in any role in society. It has always been a mystery to me. What makes someone an appropriate member of society to be respected and accepted? Is it status? recognition? nobility? qualification? experience? money? — How many people actually have all of these facets to them? How many are really revered for their purpose and their execution towards them? How many are sincerely contributing to the good of society?
Or, is it all a façade?
Is it a lie we tell ourselves because we’re afraid of revealing that we’re just empty on the inside? Who are we, really? How many articles have we read on medium on self — improvement that actually is realistically effective in changing the course of one’s life? Does any content online really reflect the reality that we live in?
I write this story to remind you, the reader, that the world is saturated with the fantasy of escapism. Because it works — people want to believe in hope for the future when there really isn’t for them, not at least for the situation that they’re in. People want to believe in stories where they root for the little guy, but in reality they wouldn’t look twice to help them dig themselves out of a rut — that’s reality.
As I write this story, I would point out that I have no authority over your reality either — do not take my words to heart. I’m currently unemployed, hopelessly fixated on the art of writing, ignoring the shame and consequences of a failed path to success that only a few have ever really achieved. I have dropped out of college, with no degree, for the past 7 years, scrambling to find a way to establish myself.
I’m neither perfect nor despicable, literate yet uneducated in the overall understanding of what the world wants from me or what I need to be to become a resourceful part of this world. I am officially lost.
Isn’t there anything that I can creatively and practically(and profitably) contribute that isn’t part of what I desire to be? How does an emotionally sensitive man with no real skill or talent (lukewarm at writing, at best) be useful for a world that unforgivingly punishes technical and practical inefficiency?
This is the bitter truth. I suck at the things I want to become great at…for now. Even though I do realize that there’s greatness in something beyond the limitations I currently suffer from.
Hypothetically, each one of us lives the world they create themselves within. You’re probably living in a rut because you feel that already are in one — that results in you manifesting it physically, by leaving everything that matters to you, that you’re responsible for(that you’re personally responsible for, i.e., health, mental health, nutrition, cleanliness, etc.)
I have always resorted to writing to realize what I was feeling, it started when I was 15. Now I realize that the reality I manifested was the result of the thought process I used as a coping mechanism that helped me conceptualize the thoughts and feelings that I suffered within my own reality. That manifestation created a barrier that I used to consider to be a bridge — a filter to protect myself from feeling worthless again, by keeping myself inhibited to the limitations I set myself in, and inevitably staying worthless within and unable to sacrifice to pain.
Well, of course, I feel lost! I had never found myself to begin with! All I am doing, really is just coping from emotional pain that I was scared of expressing out loud.
At 32, that’s a shocking realization. What do I do now? Do I continue to dream of being screenwriter and filmmaker some day? Should I take the job I dread, that might burn a hole in my brain and the inner world that I conjured myself within — in order to grow as an individual and truly experience life outside of coping and actually dealing with the pain I need to be able to endure to lead a complete and fulfilling life?
Maybe I should take that job. Maybe that might just answer the question that I continue to ask myself every single day — “Am I full of shit?”; Yes I am. I guess I always have been. And now, it’s time for me to turn the page from this chapter of my life and enter the next one.