Uncategorized

Suffocated

Everyday I’ve to wake up and move forward.

I don’t know why. I lost rhyme or reason to my purpose long ago. I don’t remember why I willed myself to move forward but I’m glad I did, it’s better than staying still. But now I move forward with nowhere to reach, just moving forward so that I don’t stop still.

I’ve already reached heights I would dream of as a kid. And there’s enough fuel in me to keep going. But I don’t know why. I don’t even know how.

I feel like giving up and crying… But it feels easier said than done. “Who cares” I ask myself and I only find silence in response. I don’t know why I’ve made myself like this. Hungry for some, any kind of affection and yet pushing myself into this unending isolation. I’ve built walls around myself that are so high I can no longer see the sky above me. I tell myself that this is for my safety and the door I had built for others and the keys I’ve lent out are all lying out there rusted; there’s no one coming.

It’s like a sick game of hide and seek where you’ve been abandoned but you hold this sliver of hope that maybe a miracle will happen and someone will show up who knows what I’m going through and can help.

I keep telling myself that there’s no one else. If I don’t love myself no one will. And yet I can’t. All I find for myself, even as I dig deep, is disdain. Disappointment that despite my best efforts, intentions and adaptability, I lost this game of attrition. I couldn’t amount to the person I wished to be in order to live upto the things and people I wanted to live upto.

Unreliable. A word given to me. I believe it. Something tells me I shouldn’t. But I do. I do feel unreliable. To myself, even if not everyone around me.

Can’t give up. Don’t have the will to have an ambition. It’s like I’m on stasis. And having been moved by an external force ages ago, the momentum of which still hasn’t died down so I keep moving.

A strange place to be at. Living while not really living. Wanting to end everything but knowing that’s not the answer.

I wish help arrived. It feels like I’ve been waiting for ages. I’ve helped so much. Atleast I tried. Why won’t anyone come for me. I feel so tired. It doesn’t feel nice. The mornings feel sad. The nights even worse. Someone hold my heart and tell me it’s normal, cause the heaviness is killing me. It’s existed over a decade and won’t go away. I only wish for someone to understand and guide me or help. Or something.

Uncategorized

Broken

I’m back to pen down my sorrows in hopes that it helps me somehow, but everytime I write i realize  I’m just moving in circles. And I’ve had this feeling since a decade now, the one constant feeling, of not being able to move forward despite trying my hardest.

I’m unsure of what to do, over the years ~ I’ve tried to build myself up, suppressed the feelings I’ve felt, killed any expectations that my heart might have, just drown myself in weed and alcohol… And yet everything I detest still persists. And now that I’m writing again, it doesn’t seem like much has changed since when I first started writing; except perhaps the feeling that I no longer think I can win this battle anymore unlike before where I had a childlike hope of maybe I’d somehow get by.

Most importantly, I feel like I’ve broken my trust. My faith in myself. I don’t want to blame anyone else anymore, I don’t think it’ll help me nor anyone else. I just want some kind of closure and the answer I get in my head is that the only closure I’ll get is when I’m done with my time here. But I don’t wish to feel like that. My mind feels defeated and cannot take a battering anymore like I used to be able to. And I don’t want to feel defeated. 

Where do I even start. I can’t trust anyone anymore. Because of promises broken by someone long ago. I don’t think I can have faith in anyone either, not even in myself. How does one keep going on like this when you can’t even rely on anyone else or yourself. And I need help so very desperately. I wake up, full of sweat and anxiety, with nightmares haunting me everyday and I go to sleep with my demons beside me, reminding of how “if only I was slightly better, maybe a better human being or better at something… Perhaps all of this wouldn’t have come to pass the way it has”. I know I need someone beside me.. Maybe a friend or someone to love.. But I can’t make myself to maintain any of those relationships. It strains my heart, physically, when I even think of it and my mind only recollects the things that have gone wrong.

There was a time, when falling in love was so easy… With the words taking no effort at all to come out of my mouth. And yet here I’m today, broken, unable to love or feel even a speck of what it used to feel like. I want to blame those around me so much but I’ve realized they wouldn’t… Don’t care or give a single fuck about how I end up. So what’s the point of putting blames and pointing fingers, it’s not like it will help me move on from this space I’ve found myself locked in.

A zombie, that’s what I feel like going through life everyday. I don’t want to feel this way. It’s like I’ve fallen down and I would like to get up, but I do not know how and the helping hand I had expected had abandoned me long ago… There’s no helping hand. I don’t even know if there ever was or if it was my own delusions.

I don’t even trust my memories anymore. Someone told me I’m the source of all of their problems. I… Swear I did not mean to be… But ever since I’ve been told so I can’t get the feeling out of my chest. What if they’re right. What if I was the problem all along and everything I’ve done was for my sake at the cost of others.

I wish I could just cry and get this over with. I don’t think I can do that either. The tears come out but the feeling gets stuck in my throat unable to leave my body.

I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t want to give up but lately, for the last decade, that feels like the only option left to get rid of these feelings. I just want out.

But I’ve been able to hide it well. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I don’t think anyone will be able to tell looking at me that I’ve shattered myself in so many tiny pieces. I’m still going to work. Still going to parties. Still meeting up with those that call me a friend. Still somehow waking up despite everything and just trudging along. And no one’s noticed.

It’s embarrassing really. To think that I’m this broken. Things feel like they’ve only gotten worse. I don’t know why I’m writing, maybe in the hopes that someone reads it one day and comes by to help. Like a desperate cry for help from sailors stuck in a remote island writing a letter and putting it into a bottle, hoping that by some miracle it reaches another soul who will rescue them before their time runs out. And my time is running out. I feel like I’m dying, everyday, bits and pieces of myself I kill whenever I feel like I’m getting too excited about something or a slight bit of happiness comes my way. I punish myself subconsciously for having those feelings, it’s like I’ve come to love this perpetual sadness and I don’t know how to talk about it because… What do I even say.

Is being broken hearted this bad or am I just weak. Some fucked up midlife crisis that I can’t get over unless I’m dead. I just don’t want to feel anymore if possible because my heart weighs heavy and the toll I’m paying to get up everyday to go about daily life seems to be draining me of everything I have.

How do I tell her that I’ve tried my best and I am ready to try harder but I… I guess I’m just not enough. I don’t know where I went wrong. Only tears swell up in my eyes when I try to think… My mind being foggy and not letting me see past these incessant thoughts of having failed in the one thing I couldn’t afford to fail. The most important thing. And I’ve failed. I want to beat myself up over it. Tell myself, “how could you lose this… All you had to was so simple” and I’d be right and wrong at the same time. I knew what to do, I knew the feelings thrown at me… But even during those times I’ve had these chains bolted to the ground and tied to my feet… Holding me back. I want to beg but I know I shouldn’t. I won’t. Never again. I’ve killed myself enough times that way. But these feelings, why won’t they leave me.

I wish I could be better 😦 I really do. Maybe in another life. And in that one I won’t have these chains tied to me holding me back.

Feels like I’m way past my expiry date. I didn’t think I’d live this long. I want to give up so bad. But it’ll only cause pain to others around me. The only question I keep asking myself is if it’s worth it to take this pain all this while hoping it gets better someday. Some days the answer is a meek maybe. Most days it’s a no.

I wish I was better. I wish I could repair myself. I wish I didn’t break every fundamental thing about me chasing some stupid dream that killed me from the inside.

My heart still weighs heavy. So very heavy that it makes it hard to walk some days. I hope the end is near and it comes by itself because I think I’m just too scared now. Or hopefully I get the courage to stop of all this myself.

Maybe someday I’ll get better and look back at this and it’ll help knowing how far I’ve come. Or maybe someday later someone reads this and knows what I was going through daily as I tried putting up a brave face.

I don’t have the strength anymore. I’m nearing exhaustion. I just want rest. Permanent or otherwise. But I don’t want this anymore. That’s all I know. I’ve had enough suffering to last me a lifetime. I want it to end.

Uncategorized

Perhaps Time Will Tell

It feels like ages since I wrote last. I thought I’d write once on my Birthday but I couldn’t make myself nor did the motivation ever drum up inside me. And so here I am, almost 2 months late and stuck in the same place since I wrote the first time in this blog.

I feel like made just about zero progress. I barely have my life together, still live in isolation, still hold back my words and feelings in case I end up saying something I do not intend to, still living inside a cage I made for myself so I could feel safe while drowning in my own sorrow; it all feels the same really.

I kept telling myself from the very beginning that perhaps time will end up bringing some change in my life and indeed, I still think in the same lines. But I do not think time will have much affect if I cannot get out of bed everyday just so I can move a little forward. I know that. I know that it’s a game where we move an inch everyday and slowly get to our goal. And yet I can’t bear it. How is it fair that some people put the least amount of effort and can go so far ahead and I’m here stuck, like so many other people, wondering if all this effort will be worthwhile. Even though pain drips like rainfall on me as soon as I get out of bed everyday, I still carry on. Cause I don’t even know if the rain is real. Even though I see it, even though I feel it; no one else does. I wander around with a smile pretending nothing ever happened and that seems to be more than enough. The rains turn themselves to flower petals and sunshine never ends, but only in the eyes of other people. In my world, the rain still stays as real as yesterday and with heavy raindrops it weighs me down through the day, everyday.

I wonder if I’m strong to endure all of this or if I had given up so long ago that I don’t care anymore. But the shadows weigh heavy on me and my heart, and I can barely keep myself from losing it.

I wonder sometimes if my suffering is even real or if I’m just making it up as I go.

Perhaps time will tell if I am ever to be made free of whatever that haunts me. Or perhaps I am meant to lose.

I hope I get out of this loop though.

Poetry

Landmines

I walk on landmines,
That I lay in-front of me.
The deaths of dreams I see,
Have become common to me.

Why is it that darkness seems,
So soothing and not bleak?
As I imagine the demons,
Come to rip apart at me.

The lifeless desires I conjure,
Become almost a daily life routine.
Why must I live like this?
A prisoner within a shell of me.

Maybe death is what I desire.
A forsaken life is what I live.
Running away from the demons I create,
Always escaping reality to see ahead.

What is it I desire?
Why can’t I accept my fate?
I just want this to end.
This brokenness to let itself mend.

Dull Coastline Northwest Rocky Gray Beach Pacific Wallpaper Widescreen

A crippling weight I carry,
Along with me, wherever you see.
I don’t know how it came to me.
But now I can’t let it go,
And I can’t see.

Where do I go,
Where do I stay?
Why must this feeling of dread,
Eat at me everyday?

Why can’t someone see me?
Standing here, suffering.
Surrounded by a crowd but all eyes off me
Because suffering isn’t noticed,
Until the end of it’s story.

I’m standing here,
Ready to walk on landmines,
That I lay down in-front of me.
The deaths I see have become me.

Erratic Scribbles

Late November Rains

It’s been a while since it rained and the cold wind brushed against my skin. I want to enjoy the feeling, but an overwhelming feeling of fear and dread looms above me.

Life has been anything but dull and fearful however. Full of opportunities and people ready to help.

And yet here I am.

Loitering in a limbo of my own making, unable to escape, unable to push forward… Because I can’t even tell which way is forward anymore. Glimpses of the light at the end of the cave flash in the mind now and then, but that’s about it. I’ve never really come to fully realize them. I don’t know if I ever will.

I still don’t know what I fight for. In this abyss where only I belong. The life I have should be cherished and taken advantage of. To do something in the world that would benefit everyone. And yet here I lie, dreading tomorrow. Surrounding in a darkness that only engulfs me. And even the light of the sun seems bleak, and has little power to remove it. It’s the same story with the minds around me. They are but specs of dust in my void of nothingness.

I wish I knew how to deal with this. How to wake up early. How to work and concentrate. How to not disappoint myself, and others who rely on me. How to escape this weight I carry on my back and grow stronger.

This frustration won’t leave me and it doesn’t help. I’m always worrying instead of working to deal with my problems. I’m always lost looking for a way to deal with the monsters I face every night.

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I woke up to these November rain with a nightmare that made my stomach turn. An unpleasant beginning to a beautiful day. Something that I should be accustomed to at this point.

I don’t know why I write. Maybe it’s a cry for help. Maybe someone will read it one day and perhaps understand what I’m going through.

I wish I knew what to do with this darkness I carry in me. It drags me down with it to a place I don’t want to call home, and yet that’s where I spend most of my days today. Looking everyday for a way to escape and then crumbling back to where I stand, and giving up.

The lights go dimmer everyday. And my will diminishes every night. The darkness comes to feed in me and I comply. For what will I do that will fend it off? It just comes back for me in different faces, in different forms.

Maybe I’m not meant to be saved. And that there’s a point to all this that I am unaware of.

I wish I knew if that was the case. I could at least stop trying.

Poetry

Home

Please spare me,
From what eats me.
I can bearly lift a finger,
Against what comes after me

In the shadows,
In the night,
At dusk,
After the noise settles, it comes

Creeping in,
A crawl, and then a step.
Not knowing what approaches;
A figment of imagination stretched

It twists and turns,
Into what it wants,
Into what I fear it wants,
Into what it wants.

What is it that haunts me,
What is it that creeps in?
Of life, but full of death,
Anger subsides in memories.

I’m left as a husk,
Devoid of life,
Devoid of strife,
All because, I’ve a haunting pet beside.

Acceptance of cries,
Acceptance of sighs,
What has become of my life,
With this haunting nightmare at my side.

Give me hope,
Give me life,
I yearn for more,
And yet I lie here in demise.

I want to see more,
I want to hear,
And yet I am here;
Incapable of putting up a fight.

Help me brace myself,
Against this shadow.
Against it’s brother death.
Help me, against my own breath.

I don’t know what to do
I don’t know where to see
All I see are dark horizons
Across the sea

The memories that haunt me
They live in me.
The life that taunts me,
Has long gone past by me.

And yet the vivid memories of sea
Still stay beside me
Of the winds that blew
Of the smells I rue

The sea turns black
The sky turns grey
As I relive my memory
Every other day.

Please help me.
Please spare my soul.
Of this disease I carry,
Of wanting to go home.

Erratic Scribbles

Why am I stuck in time

It’s been days, months and years since I can remember the worse days of my life. And yet they won’t leave my side. Memories haunt me as if they’re on a mission to achieve something. The feelings of dread won’t die down even though I am expecting nothing to come out of the shadows.

I know I have to be strong but what do I do when I’m crumbling from the inside.

It feels like my body has moved forward in time, toughened up, able to dissuade anyone from thinking I’m frail. It swells with confidence for it’s ability to stand up on it’s own two feet.

Yet my mind shrivels at the very thought of the memories that hound me. Like my mind is stuck in the past while my body has moved forward in time.

What is it that keeps me tied down. And why does my yearning to move forward not overcome it.

I romanticize my life but it’s like a demon living inside. A brief few seconds of agony that kill any joy that blooms in me. The rest of the day is a grey that goes past away like falling leaves in December.

Why am I stuck in time, when I want to leap forward the line. I want to kill what’s holding me back. Yet I can’t turn to face it, for fear of it’s wrath. Why can’t my anger kill it when it and I want to. What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. What do I do.

Poetry

Chasing Dreams

Over the cold winter winds,
Beyond the dawn of summer’s light.
Lay a person of immense life,
Of memories long past, but well defined.

As the daily sun rose from dawn,
Only for it to settle at dusk,
She knew no bounds would keep her,
From being what she was.

Life was frail, but not her.
She knew the saying,
“We owe it to ourselves;
To achieve the dreams we desire.”

Over time, she spun around the sun.
As she grew, so did she learn to run.
And she stumbled,
Stumbled hard.

Strife and hardship would fall on her,
Like they do on any soul ‘fore long.
But every dawn, she would remember,
To wade through to her goal,
Towards the ones she aspired.

For it is only on us,
To chase the dreams we desire.
For us to break the shackles,
To run after the dreams we aspire.


 

PS: 

This is a small poetry I wrote for someone. I don’t know how much it matters now but I think it’s a good message for anyone to have. 🙂

Poetry

Mind’s Solace

Perhaps in the edges of darkness,
A light exists that shines beyond,
But I’m here standing on the shore,
With the shadows of an unseen giant dawned.

I’m fireproof, but the cold within
Ate apart at my sanity,
Leaving behind a brittled reality.
And the shadows, they crawl up my skin.

For it seemed to be like eons,
Since the world around had life and colour.
A blank dust of grey, covers the surface.
With each passing day, the fervor within felt smaller.

Each stumble, pieces of me break and fall
And with every crumble, I crawl to my place.
But is it worth it to be in this race
Is it worth it, just for another rainfall?

The world keeps changing,
Uninterested of another’s plight.
People take lives for granted,
Unconsciously snuffing out their light.

Promises granted one after another
But how many do follow through
Maybe not a handful, but definitely only a few
And so we end up at the mercy of other

Maybe the pain will leave,
Maybe it will end up being smaller.
But the life I live, the reality my mind conceives,
Is but a disaster that fits like an iron collar.

Of the notions my mind creates,
It can’t help but ask, what have I done to deserve this fate.
O my whimsical impulses and desires,
Why have you brought me here, in front of closed gates.

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Featured Image Credits: Link

Erratic Scribbles

Silence

If you’ve influence, then you’ve power. We live in a world where anyone can change the things around them, even if a little, by just existing and contributing. A lot of us think of the future or the past, but few of us really care about what is happening as of right now. Not about our lives; but the life that surrounds us; and the power to change it. The buildings, insects, animals, fields of grass, everything that surrounds us. Chances are, if you’re reading this, you can change what surrounds you, even if a little bit, but you can do it. This ability to change things, is what is to an extent, is meant by the word ‘influence’, and yet, so few of us really use it to it’s fullest extent. Even I’m guilty of making the same mistake myself.

But what is it that we do with this power when we do use it? Their lies the bigger question. Life is uncanny and undistinguishable, but yet so familiar and something that feels normal. However, very few of us have reasons to believe that we can change our surroundings, as much as perhaps the richest person of the planet, yet that’s not entirely true. Yes, the rich hold more power; not because they’ve money, but because people listen to them. People also listen to the passionate, the musicians, the artists, the scientists, and the world. More than anything, people believe the world. What the world echos, is the norm and there’s no reason to think outside the norm, because…? I can’t find an answer to this question, because I’ve never come across one. I’ve always been told that somethings are “impossible” and yet the more I think about it, they’re not. Not entirely. Humanity has at many times showed nature creative solutions to the problems it poses us, yet individually, we are all broken, unbelieving in ourselves. And more importantly, unbelieving in our power. The power to change the world around us to whatever extent we can. And collectively, there has been no bigger power in the known universe.

I share a lot of things in the social media platforms I’m in. I’ve always had the thought that if I can change, even one person’s mind, with facts and evidence, then I’ve made the world a little better place. And in the same nature, I’ve always hounded for just the unknown, to know as many things as I can. It’s no wonder then that I grew a lust to change the world, even if by a little, but everyday none the less. Growing up, I never believed I could’ve achieved anything, regardless of how I hard I tried. Not because I didn’t try, I did give it my all whenever I could, but I couldn’t at most times; and I didn’t know why. I’ve always thought of myself as a little more aware of the world than most people, but there was this weight on my mind that somehow held me back; I blamed it on myself. I was just being lazy. In 2015, I got diagnosed with ADHD. Things made much more sense, but I was still lazy. The lazy part didn’t change.

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I believe I could’ve done a lot more when I was young, the problem wasn’t that I wasn’t aware of ADHD, it was that I blamed myself for who I was. And to an extent, that part of me never left. But in 2015, another thing happened. I pitied myself for the first time for having a mental illness. Just 5 mins later, I thought that was just fucking stupid. Was it the last straw that I had in life? Probably not. I’ve had too many incidents that I can remember that made me go through hell. This incident wasn’t anywhere close to the things I remember. But it was stupid enough to make me think about what is it that I had the power over, if not over myself, to do the things I love; and if not the world around me, then what?

I had always believed that one person was all it took to change the world, and I always wanted to be that person. We all do really. But so few of us realize that we can change the world, a little bit, with all our actions and decisions. I realized, what held me back was my definition of myself, rather than my characteristics.

So many of us in this place, could do good, but so few of us try thinking that our efforts aren’t worth it. From littering to just not bothering, and being silent; all of us are guilty of not trying in one way or another, even me. I live in a country where seeing a beggar is a common sight, seeing a sleeping kid with tattered clothes in a train station with a dog, is a common sight. It’s become common, to the point that I don’t care; not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t believe that I can change their life even a little bit. But so many have already proved us wrong on that part. Even people who perhaps, started with less power than what we have with us right now.

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Our decisions, to change the world around us, give us more power. But what comes with that power, is not responsibility, but whatever we define it to be. And however we define ourselves, gives us the power that is required of us to change ourselves. Some believe the power comes to them because they’re better than others, others believe power comes to those who are worthy of it, by perhaps birth or their status in society. But no one can come after you, not when you’ve power. Power recedes responsibility. It gives us the ability to jump over the fence. Yet, the strongest of us choose to stay and pick up the responsibilities of our choosing, not because we are required to, but because we believe we need to.

We all have the influence to change things around us really. And we all have power. Some have it more than others, but we all have it none the less. What we do with that power, again, lie upon ourselves. How we grow ourselves, with the decisions we make, and sculpt the world around us. It all rests on us. And all of us can do it, yet so few of us believe we can.

Perhaps the biggest bane of humanity is that it doesn’t believe in itself and it’s ability to change what surrounds it. What surrounds an individual.

We all have influence. And we all have the power to change the lives that surround us, along with the life that is inside us. It however, falls on us to realize that and work upon it. The journey we take in this world, and the things we influence while walking towards our death are perhaps the most profound stories of art that the universe can create. We should not let it go to waste. Not because people expect more from us, but because we should expect more of our own selves.