.unsaid

I am not okay;
never was.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

I have said it. A couple too many times. I have said it in metaphors, translating in words that I didn’t even understand and in between the lines, or perhaps all is lost in translation.. But at the core of the things, it is still there. And I have said it way too many times or that’s how I feel. I am still here trying to say, let me rephrase.. I am trying to express in words that apparently don’t reach the people. I am not being cautious, perhaps I am scared. Or perhaps, I don’t know how to do it, how to say it bluntly. I will beat around the bush but I will not say it as it should be said, out loud, crystal clear.

May be that is why I can’t ever feel content with it, content with writing it off and hoping that it will do it’s magic of not making a permanent house in my mind. But, I am at loss of words. Writing was always my solace, my way of letting the things go and hoping that the new day that follows will be less burdened and also refreshing. Imagine the day when we don’t worry about yesterday and looking forward to great day that is to follow. How beautiful the sunshine will be, how melodious those birds chirp, how clear the sky is and how great the morning glory feels like. And in all adversity, how happy we will be, from the inside.

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While I write this, I have hit the backspace a little too much. I might as well have published with the words that I backspaced. I don’t know why! I don’t know why I am so unsure about writing about what I really want to write. I wonder if I am bothered by something that I am having second thoughts on how to put it in writing. I am sure nothing is bothering me. And I think I don’t just want to write them down. I don’t want me to validate it by writing it down. I just don’t want to sign it off as exactly what it is. Because as hopeless and crass I might be, I will try to look for that tiny lost hope that it will all get better soon. That, things will change and I won’t be in this place where I currently am at. You might… let me rephrase, I am not but I think I am a little superstitious. I don’t like things getting jinxed, as in like if I tell something bad, it will definitely happen, and if I say something good, it will never happen. I have this superpower that I control the world, my world. I just have to think of it, the good or the bad and it will happen, just the one I really don’t want to.

I have written about it. I continue to write about it. But at some point, it feels repetitive. Like the earlier few lines. But today I will “really” write it. Hopefully, I won’t bring any metaphors or hide between the lines!

I am in pain, mentally and emotionally. I am hurt on the inside. I have felt hurt for as long I can remember. But I put on a façade and tell everyone that I am okay. No! I am not! I am not okay! I never was, am, and I don’t know whether I ever will be. There is a commotion inside, and that never settles. The mind is restless. While things happen and people console that it is alright since it happens for a good reason, you try to calm that restlessness in the mind. It feels better to know that there is a greener side and that there will be a knock on the door called opportunity. While the mind doesn’t stay calm for long, another thing happens, and there are voices it is for the good. I calm the mind saying that it is just round the corner. While I am in these phases, I write it down. Because writing is my solace. And I end writing that painful post about the pain that the mind is in, that I am in, while I start to feel a bit relieve and feeling that peace approacing me, there is another thing that happens. And I repeat the whole process over and again, hoping that one day it will just end. And honestly, I am getting tired of trying to write about this everytime, differently every time. I have a whole book with pages filled with this and I wonder is this how it is going to be, for the rest of the life! Is this anyway how life should be? That metamorphical rock that I keep carrying just keeps getting heavier. At one point, I just might collapse and there is no coming back when it does!

______

.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

A Desert.

Endless mountains wrapped in lush greenery
Under the dome of countless stars
A million dreams drifted in the river
Through the charades of euphoria

Amidst the chaos of life
Flowed a stream
Brimming with hope and dreams
As dry as a desert.

Stories they told once, about
The pain of yesteryear
The fear of tomorrow
With each suppressed emotion

Graced the cheek, every night
Under the dark of the lonely stars
Over soft pillows and muffled cries
In the silence of the closed walls

Behind the noise of the cold showers
Midst of the mumbling crowd
Muffled in the soft rains
Transpired to hiding behind smiles

The cheek that lay barren
In wait of the fateful story
Of those endless sleepless nights
For that tear among the silently loud cries.

– Ξnigma, inspired by MirageOfAGirl‘s River of Tears

Quotefancy-1192893-3840x2160

Leave me alone.

I’m lost in the past, drowning in the memories. It’s dim. It’s stale. It’s a flickering light of yesterday, haunting, a constant reminder. It’s dark. It’s a freakin’ nightmare.

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The night fell into the silent abyss. The damp atmosphere hung in the air, that cold wind of the onset of winter blew. He settled at the end of the bar, contemplating, lost and deserted. His eyes were a million miles away, yet they spoke a story, sunk in the evening aroma of slow music and distant chatter. A thousabd thoughts exploded in his mind, relinquishing the past. the pupils dilated as the warmth of the drink slid past the burning throat. He never drank before. He didn’t realize he was drinking. He was too lost to care. His eyes fixated at the emptiness, still contemplating. Another sip. The past still resided at the peripheral. Another sip. The glass was empty. His ears caught a sweet voice, singing in the distant. He woke up from the past.

He was holding a glass, empty, a reminder of the past that was just forgotten. He eased his grip and let it free. “Leave me alone”, a voice shouted in his mind. The voice had been shouting to the pain that haunted. He got used to it like a lullaby, a painful one. Yet, it made its presence felt every day, every moment. The song became louder. It had been louder all along and he felt it’s presence with the words that surrounded the ambience.
…Let me heal the scars of yesterday,

The scars that have dug so deep,

Let me burn away the pain,

For I’m the phoenix rising from the ashes…”

He felt it making its way through him, digging the skin and reaching for the heart. The constant voice that haunted faded in the melody. Before he knew, he was sipping again and it went smooth this time. He saw her among the crowd under the limelight, staring at him from the distance, staring at him naked, staring at his naked soul, the eyes piercing the very fragments of pain, the past he had hid so well, she saw it all, every detail. He felt that pain drain away, delicately like the touch of the sun to the sea beyond the horizon. But then, the glass slipped from his hand, smashed against the floor as he was left vulnerable with the thousand pieces it broke into. The lights dimmed, the song ended and she was gone. He stood up, in search, but in vain.

“Leave me alone”, his mind shouted again to the voices that haunted again.