.isolate

We build walls not to keep ourselves from the outside world, but to keep our demons locked up.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

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They ask me why do you write so much, why do I keep everything to myself, why can’t you love anyone, why don’t you hangout with people. Question, just too many questions with no answers. I smile. Like I always do. And while they wait for an elaborate answer, I observed over in my mind as to how to tell someone that it’s a dark place inside and letting people in might turn out to be the last thing they would want to do. Dark? They mock. As if they haven’t seen what dark was, they say under their breath. As if you are a special case, why even exaggerate. They mock. And all this while, I still haven’t told that it was dark inside either. I didn’t say anything yet. Because perhaps it wasn’t about the darkness inside. It wasn’t about the silently screaming voices. Or the battle inside to break through the shackles that drag them down. It wasn’t even about the suffocating thoughts that drown the mind in agony and pain. May be it’s about keeping the demons inside that no one ever even gets the shadow of it.

 

.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : isolate

.deep

The time sometimes deepens the wounds.
. ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

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They say that time heals. I did believe it. Little did I know how blind I was. May be what time does is cover the ripped using that paper tape, which could and will rip apart anytime and there’s nothing the time can do about it. But what hurts more is that despite everything we do to heal, they do leave a scar. Some carry it with a brave symbol for over powering their short comings while some scratch the healing scars as they are too afraid to look through it, or perhaps that scar doesn’t let us get past it. Because that scar is more of a memory reminding us of the things we did and the things we should have done. Though, I admire the people who leave these scars while they move on with their business as if nothing has ever happened. But the ones nursing their lost time are still showing off that bright smile despite breaking down on the inside, every moment.

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.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. Since I am kicking it off, I would be starting off with a couple of posts with will of the above format. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : .deep

Alone

We are never alone, we are just looking for someone who understands.

Somewhere out there someone is writing, writing their pain away, hoping to be free, hoping to break through the weight that is pulling them down, suffocating with each breath they take and the heavier the heart gets. But however huge the number of words on the pages might be, and however little relief they might be getting, the pain, that isolated pain still stings. Despite the huge burden inside, they put on a bright smile hoping that no one would see through their eyes and figure out what they truly say. And the thought that no one would ever understand just pinches a little more.

Meanwhile, somewhere out there someone else is in writing, writing their pain away, just like the earlier people, hoping that they might not be alone afterall.

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#connectingThoughts
A something that is prompt-based or perhaps something as complicated (or may be not) as love, or as vast as life. Now you might be wondering what the something is that was mentioned a little earlier, it could be anyting from poetry to prose, a single line to a whole thesis.
Connecting Thoughts” was coined by Dhwani, who blogs at Sunshine came up with a collaborative idea of writing something on a weekly basis, with an aim to motivate people and more importantly, connect with them. Hoping to see you join the bandwagon.

.inhibitions

We cross the line never meant to cross.
.ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

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More often an now, we come across an impossible situation where we have to make a choice, a decision that will probably decide the present and the circumstantial future. And the problem is not usually the choice we have to make, but the fact that there is something beautiful on the other side, however temporary or floating, we still want to cross the barricades of morality, even after knowing that it’s the wrong thing to do. The outcome of it is pretty simple, we enjoy crossing those barricades but then again we regret it instantly because we have this voice in the head shouting at us about the wrong choice we made, the same voice which was shouting at us to make the right choice earlier to finally crossing that line.

It’s a dark place to be in, before and after. And it’s eats us up on the inside. We try to justify in some way but there is no justification of what was done that could help us from this very inhibition.

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.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. Since I am kicking it off, I would be starting off with a couple of posts with will of the above format. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : .inhibitions

.magic

 

Those eyes, and a world hidden in them.
. ᴇ ɴ ɪ ɢ ᴍ ᴀ

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Eyes are the gateway to ones’ soul. We might have heard this a couple too many times. Most of it must be from me. I am usually the one who doesn’t look at anyone’s eyes. I fear I would sneak into their world and I understand their true emotions which more often than not is not exactly the same as they portray on the outside. No, I am not saying that I can read people, but from my experience I tend to understand the person’s emotions when they are talking to me, which usually shouts uninterested. Over the course of time, I have isolated myself than to involve myself in other’s scrutiny. Why even? But then again, we come across people who without doing anything intimidate us. Mostly its the eyes.

It was something like that with her as well. I never talked to her but yet whenever I saw those eyes, they spoke a million things all at once. Like a whole universe was inside of her and every time her eyes sparkle, it lights up the whole world around us.

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I have been putting off things that I want to do in the name of getting my mojo back or say the good times to thrive, but lately I haven’t got anything do, so now I am doing a project to keep myself occupied a bit if not nothing. So, I came up with a project for myself.

.dotProject
A traditional post where in the writer could write anything from poetry to prose to even a single line. Basically it is a prompt based post, but no restrictions whatsoever. Since I am kicking it off, I would be starting off with a couple of posts with will of the above format. My current format involves a quote and a bit of a passage around it, just to make a better sense of the abstract. If anyone wants to take up the project, please be my guest. Do let me know so that I can check your post as well.

.prompt : .Magic

The Wait

“Not knowing is far worse than knowing what was wrong.”

Have you ever been in a dilemma where you want to say everything , but don’t. Because you are not sure how the person you want to say everything to would react. And that, their reaction is what scares you the most. And this being scared feeling eats you up inside, slowly. Then one moment you sit and write it all down and then again wonder just before finally hitting ‘send’, you don’t . You delete the whole thing because you don’t even want to send it by mistake and later regret, so you delete it completely. But you wonder that it might have turned it all right, if you had just sent that message. Because not knowing is far worse than knowing what was wrong, if there was anything at all. But then again, you feel that this confused state of mind is a much better place to be than making the worse of the two alternatives happen. Maybe everything is all okay. Maybe you are just over thinking. Maybe it is all in your head. You console yourself that everything is just normal.

Then one day, later the same very day, you just can’t handle this confusion that the mind is creating. The dilemma is just taxing on your work and in turn it is affecting you in more ways than you think it isn’t. And you realize that your heart is sinking and that it is being pulled down as if it is getting heavier with each moment that you are contemplating. You feel that it is not strong enough to handle such pressure; the pressure of not-knowing, the pressure of what might, the pressure of what if, the pressure of this dilemma, and everything combined. So, you sit down and search for that previously deleted text. You write it all over again anyway, trying to choose the right words but that taxing of your mind by that pressure just doesn’t let you have a proper train of thought. But somehow you write that heartfelt, or to be precise whatever is weighing you down, and finally send it, after contemplating for a few hours.

You regret immediately for even sending the message. May be it was too short, or may be it was too much, maybe it was inappropriate, but you shouldn’t have sent that in the first place.  You curse yourself for sending. Oh god, what have you done? How can i undo this? Shit! Shit! Shit! You even feel the whole universe seems to say so. You hold your head in your hands for making that mistake. But yet, you wait. You wait for a reply. Each second feels like an hour and each ticking sound of your watch makes you more and more nervous. You are this close to having a nervous breakdown. And then the status change to “Online“. Your heart skips a beat. You start to sweat. The message is now in read state. And you can feel your heart in your mouth. And yet you wait. You wait for a reply. There is none. A few seconds pass away, and yet there is no reply. You wait for more time, perhaps she is writing a lengthy reply. Or maybe it wasn’t well received and this was the end of it. And despite all that’s weighing you down, you cling to that tiny thread of hope. You keep clinging to that thread which seems to be breaking off. But there is no reply, and you find yourself falling down and everything seems to flash in front of your eyes, but you still don’t know what was the thing that you did was wrong and led to this distance. Even during that fall, your mind is making all the scenarios to make sense of all this that left you in splits. You cruse your overthinking stupid brain. And gradually, you die of overthinking and anticipation and all that overwhelming feelings. But, but.. that dilemma still haunts you even after.

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P.S. I haven’t written for a while. It has literally been ages, since I wrote. I haven’t been able to bring myself to write. I have lost that train of thought and what  I earlier thought made it more broken. But I hope to get back to it, as soon as possible. I really apologize for not being able to read any of the blog posts. I really look forward to doing it from now on. 

 

Help me help.

There is this sinking feeling, that drowns us into suffocation where we strive to breathe, that engulfs me into this embrace, a lot like darkness. Yes, darkness, my old friend. No matter what we do, how much we try to fight, we feel tied down, held down. But, but there is light, there always is. We see it at the end of the tunnel, a vibrant collision of bright and shining. We want to reach for it. We want to get out of this darkness, this suffocation, this struggle for life, this fear. And we see this light, so close yet so far, slowly diminishing, slowly fading. But we are drowning, sinking in this quicksand that pulls us down into this bottomless pit, struggling with all our might, yet feeling completely helpless, useless.

I am angry because I am helpless.
– Ξniɢma

I just read the other day another rape incident, not a day after that mass molestation. This is shocking. This is beyond normal. This is going out of control. And I am agitated. My mind is not in one piece. I was at work and I was trying to focus on my work as I wanted some things taken care of. I got distracted with the news that I came across as I scrolled the Facebook timeline. I tried to avoid it, like I have avoided all my problems, like every important thing that mattered I have avoided, I wanted to be that dumb guy who doesn’t understand what is going on when the whole group are laughing and discussing about something. I tried to be that asshole who would just scroll down without flinching an eye and passing a comment “Nothing new“. I tried my best to be ignorant like I had been ignoring the calls from my relatives. But I was drawn to it. Why? I had to know. Why was this pulling me towards it? I didn’t even go out to catch Pokémons while the whole world rejoiced on each Pokemon they collected. I was not drawn to the girl on whom I had crush on for as long as I can remember when she sent a text. What the hell was it, then? I did what I usually don’t know but do all the time – Psychoanalysis!

Was it the pain? Was it the suffering? Was it the inhumanity? What was it?  I am human after all. I too have a few weakness. I t was then I realized that I was drawn to the helplessness. I was drawn to them all – the pain, the suffering.

As I sit somewhat-comfortably in my almost-perfectly cushioned bed after have adjusted the pillows to my favor to rest my back and try to express what I am feeling, I may be telling I am angry, agitated, pissed, blood boiling and everything hyper, but in the end what am I doing? What am I contributing to the cause? How can this little-angry write up about my anger change something, someone?

It agitated me quite a bit to even think about it. We can debate all we want about the problems we have , the things we can do , the things we should do, go on candle light marches in remembrance, stage a protest outside some government institute, break a few windows, burn a few buses, or may be not and all this while we think we are doing a good thing, trying our part in bringing about the change that we so badly need. Or even better we write about the underlying problem, the cause, the reason and while we are laying out the consequences and what we should do, what others should do, what the government we  elected must do. We would go on and write about the problems of the country, the deranged people shouting in CAPITAL LETTERS for the emphasis and also because we are agitated and angry and pissed and outraged. We hope that the letters we write, the articles we publish and the stories we scribble with the carefully structured sentences and curbing the Fuck curse words will reach the people and somehow it will bring a change, somehow it will give them a question to ponder over their actions, somehow that story just might change the people.

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But we are human. No, let me rephrase. We are assholes. We follow blind leaders and illiterate psychopaths. Have you ever wondered that IAS exams that we write are so tough to crack and you know what happens to the people who pass them? They work for some 5th standard fail politician. Even with all the aspirations to bring about the change on a small scale is just sidetracked. How are the politicians so illiterate. You want growth. Elect people who can take the challenge. Not someone who are looking to control and oppress. Oh, yes the speeches are always great because they have been drafted with a degree, a MBA one perhaps.

The underlying issue stays the same. We hope that people would change, the concerned officials will take control and bring drastic reforms in. But let’s get one thing clear, there are still a few assholes out there who can’t be changed no matter what you do. Don’t blame it on illiteracy. Everyone learns, in some way or the other. Just that one are hard core assholes who refuse to learn, who refuse to change their way. I don’t understand their stubbornness. They could use this stubbornness to do something good. And the problem still continues.

I am not doing a great thing here by voicing out my thoughts. And that’s what bothers me the most. I am not doing anything. I want to do something to change all this and not give people a chance to even talk about these incidents. But, I am helpless, utterly helpless.

Can you help me to help?
Please?
 

__

Ξniɢma

The picture quotes are borrowed from Quotefancy

Twenty Seventeen!

 

A silent breeze swept past me, like a silent shadow in the night. A calm hush of the noise like a distant murmur sunk in the shadows behind me. The muted world stood in silence in the warm embrace of the night, comforting yet missing something. An unspeakable void that kept haunting the silent corners of the mind. I stared at the sky above me to immerse myself in the effervescence of the dark night. Somehow, this darkness never felt so dark. It was my comfort, my solace to the agitation, my safe harbour. I continued staring at the sky above. Perhaps, I was looking for a sign, that was long-lost on me. Or perhaps I just wanted to embrace this moment.

Fireworks. The figments of small and brighter lights filled the sky. The man-made stars that danced with symphony in their agility. Shining in their ever so bright clamour; so close and ever so beautiful. The celebration of sorts in the sky, mesmerizing the world below and the universe beyond. Ah, what a sight it was. This moment was too perfect to be true. I curbed my urge to pinch myself and wake me from my slumber, if at all it was. I gradually sunk in the moment, reminiscing the dreams of yesteryear, the present and hopes as I stared and communicated with the sky above in silence. The million stars that have been there for me in thick and thin, in happiness and sadness, when no one else was. As I embraced my inner inhibitions and the warmth of the hopes, I could hear cheer, as a distant noise reverberating so close to me.

Excitement. The cheer slowly started to build up and resonated in the whole atmosphere. There were people everywhereand I had been at the middle of this crowd. But somehow, even though I was there at the center of thousands of people, there was a moment, a moment when everything around blurred, the people, their chatter, their cheer, the noise, everything was a distane echo and I was just alone for miles away. I was romancing the air, filled with my desires and hope, embracing the inhibitions; and was at peace staring at the multitude of stars that spread across the horizon slowly getting draped in fireworks. But this crowd, this humongous crowd that cheered so loud that I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts.

I woke up slowly from my slumber to see the happy faces, smiling, staring at the sky above, a little like I was, perhaps contemplating the year the passed by and making new dreams and hope as they kissed their loved ones. I stood in muted silence as the  crowd sunk into celebrations, the onset of yet another glorious year, with renowned hopes and determination. All soulful people walked around with happiness radiating from them, not just that usual happiness, but the sort that comes from the heart, that’s just too serene to watch.

I stood there amidst all the chaos, contemplating the happy crowd as they disappeared into the background. That’s when I caught a glimpse of my own reflection, in its absolute contrast. As reality slowly sunk in, the shattered dreams echoed in the reminiscence of the mind, the mind went wary and the heart heavier. Everything blurred again, and suddenly there I was, alone, sinking in the ocean, trying to breathe, for one last time.

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Happy New Year.
I hope you have a great year ahead and all your dreams be fulfilled.

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P.S. I am sorry, but someone said I was too negative, I was too pessimistic. I claimed myslf to be pessimistic. And no, I am not proving them right. I am just being myself.

Image Courtesy : Quote Fancy

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.

Caught by the hook.

We feel trapped. We know it, but we won’t admit it. We actually like it somehow. But in the end it swallows us whole. We have known that all along, yet we haven’t done much about it. We didn’t want to. We were hopeful, that may be the tables will turn and everything will be all merry, just like you had imagined in your mind.

We all have crushes and people we love. We are sometimes scared to convey our feelings. So we keep them locked up. But we have that inhibition to show it, express it in any way possible. Eventually a possibility arises where we could do that. A phone call or a text message does that trick. You had been waiting for that text like forever and finally you jump with joy. It says your help is needed. You feel special, you feel wanted, you see yourself as the one saving the world (almost). And that is when we become numb in our minds and nod yes to everything they say. You are the savior, she had been waiting for, you say to yourself. And no matter what, you are ready to do whatever is put forth. Even if was something impossible, it’s a yes from your side. And try your best to make it happen. It is to show that you care, you could do what they ask for. And all you get in return is a thank you (sometimes) and a forgotten help.

The problem with this is under appreciation and taking you for granted. They never liked you as much as you had thought. They just knew you as a guy who could do thing(s) for them. Eventually, you will be forgotten and erased from the memory. But you would never forget that. You will save that text or that voice asking you for help. You will be hopeful, still. That someday they will realize what you had done for them. But what you fail to realize something really important.

And at one point you would snap out that delusion. You will lose all that hope. You will lose that secret admiration you had for them. You lose that hidden feelings you had for them.  But then you could do nothing about it. You are forgotten from their memory. You become nothing. And that deed you did for them, what deed ?