.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.

img_2260

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

; The Chaos Theory

The walls screamed in their silence. The thoughts floated in the confinement, however deep they dragged in a bottomless sea. It is going to be okay, a few too many voices drowned in the silent loud screams. But among all the chaos that surrounded the empty thoughts, a silent tear gave it away. The emotions bundled so deep down, just overflowed in the tiniest speck of water. Hope! A fascinating eulogy that like an ink blot on a paper, spread with the tiniest touch of it. An emancipation of a thousand dreams or perhaps a bittersweet lie, like sand slipping through the hand. Because it is going to be alright. That is how the world works. Perhaps it does, for some while the other dwell in world apart with masked faces and acceptable attires. Because, we all want to be normal by getting society’s approval by how happy we look and how well we present ourselves. And Amid all the melodrama of a chaotic life, there is a line, a faintest line that either makes or breaks people.

_____

quotefancy-359298-3840x2160

;

“I don’t understand why they did it?”
“They have a whole life in front of them. Then, why would they do that?”
“Don’t they think about their family?”
“What their family must be going through now?”
“It would so much painful for their loved ones, won’t it be?”
“Are they that stupid?”
“How coward can they be?”
“Tch, tch, tch”, they said feeling a little sad, for a moment though.

It’s hell. It’s a raging hell fire, a battle, a struggle to take that one step, every day. It is painful to breathe, more painful to be normal, because people demand to be normal, because being otherwise is very unnatural. And then you have to smile, smile away through (hiding) that pain, that huge burdening pain that you kept dragging behind you everywhere you went. It was perhaps the past that led to this burden, and why is it affecting the present, the future? A question that keeps haunting every waking moment. Perhaps, you finally decide to start everything afresh, everything will be different from now on, you said to yourself. You strive to make it different. You work on it, you try to give your best. But the heart is heavy with the weight, but you try to care less and fight through each string that pulls you down. Because you want to put it behind in the past and not let it affect the present and well, the future. You pretend as if everything is okay and normal and that there’s sunshine inside of you and a beautiful starry sky over your head.

But…

It was a beautiful sight. Those first rays of sunlight hitting your face, that warm embrace as it slowly rises to its glory of the morning. As the sunshine embraces you, you feel content, happy, from inside. You go to work, forgetting everything that has always pulled you down everyday, everything that stopped you from moving ahead, you move past that burden inside of you. You completely forget about everything as that cold drop of rain hits your skin. It was the first rain you felt in a very very long time. You relish every moment of it, wondering what you have missed all this while. You feel alive. It is an absolute bliss and you want to stay in this beautiful yet perfect symphony that life carefully threw at you, forever. You retire from your day under the starry skyline, as the stars twinkle in the glory of the night, a splendid sight, nonetheless, and you are sure you can tell endless stories under this dome of glittering diamonds. You finally sleep, relaxed and most importantly at peace. Sleeping never felt so relaxing.

You wake up all of a sudden as if the ground beneath you started shaking. You hope to see the beautiful sunshine from yesterday. You want to relive the previous day, each day! But, you don’t see it. There is just darkness, a familiar face you have been with for such a long long time. May be you woke up a little too early and hope that it is just a dream. But there is no sunshine whatsoever. You go to work hoping to see that glimmer of rain, that washed your past away, that washed your soul. You pray for it silently under your breath. But there isn’t any. And you retire to your home wondering to finally gaze into the endless stars and perhaps share your tiring day to the endless glittering friends far far away. But it is just dark in the sky. Not a single star. You don’t understand what is happening. You sleep, or at least try to. The whole day, the past just keeps flashing in front of you. You can’t sleep. You try to understand everything, but nothing makes sense. And in that moment when you thought you have left the past behind, comes haunting back. You try to shake it off, try your best to end that nightmare, wake up to that sunshine, dance under the rain, sing under the stars. You pray for it even though you have never been religious, but there is that familiar dark cloud over your head, that keeps following you, day and night.

You don’t understand why it keeps following you. You don’t understand why that one day it wasn’t there. Why was that day different? You don’t understand what is happening, because the past is a haunting reminder of the choices you made, which somehow decided your present and the future. You thought you could go past it, look past it, keep it locked up in the past and not look back again, ever, but it is you, your past, your memories. You want to escape this mess. You can’t listening to your horrid screams. You can’t deal with the fake smile everyday. You can’t stay bottled up all day long and write long essays on your feelings, everyday. You can’t find peace. Peace was a concept never in your mind. It has far gone and disappeared in the past. But then, how can you get past this? How can you be at peace? How can you just express? How can you finally really smile? How can you end all this mess once and for all?
The only way to end all this to end it all.

Quotefancy-2077288-3840x2160

 

P.S. : This post is inspired by my life, circumstances and #13ReasonsWhy. Inspired is a strong word. May be, come into picture.

Borrowed Time.

Crumbled pages lie silently at the corner of the room as the ink went dry, the thoughts astray. The mind was a fighting a war within itself. The heart, well it did it’s job, without a care in the world. The walls absorbed the silent screams. The prayers resonated in the enclosure, breathing the aroma of its depth and finally settling at a nice corner of the room. While the night danced in the glory of the dark, the silence prevailed in the epiphany of the mind and all around. ” Tick. Tock. Tick. “

Quotefancy-3271-3840x2160

The echoes of pain glorified the dark corners of the ignited mind. What was wrong? What was happening? Questions piled up, like the torn off pages flickering in the silent monotony of the cold breeze which had the half laden thoughts of the days not yet come.

Words. An anagram playing in the multitude of emotions, thoughts and whatnot. A random apprehension of a sophisticated mind. Why are they so far away? Why can’t they come closer? What do they mean? Why don’t they make sense? Is this the right script? Does this reach your heart?
He stared at the mirror long. He tried to look into himself, through the very fragments that kept him together, intact, as broken as he might be inside. He wanted to see what was inside of him, how broken can a person be. He wanted to see what he was made of, whether the broken memories ever heal. He was searching for something within himself, something he felt missing. He was not sure what. He was not sure why. There were questions that haunted, haunted as the answers were just more questions.

Letter. They were letters that hold the story never to be seen, never to be adapted, never to be lived. A letter, which was a warning, an indication of what went wrong. A foreword to the people to tread carefully. He had carefully handcrafted it, wrote the best god damn letter he ever could. He spoke of the misery, he spoke of the lost self, he spoke of great many deals. He ended the letter with a farewell. It was his last letter signed off with a “I am sorry, Good Bye”.

Here he was again, 10 years later contemplating over the same letter, still broken, still finding his way, still trying to perfect his last letter. The time was a factor that stopped for him a decade ago. He was a lifelessly alive, stuck on the past notion, not moving an inch forward. He tried to end it, end it all, the agony, the pain, the disappointment, and in the end even his life. Time, for him was a reminiscent.

He was living on borrowed time.
The time which is not his.

______