.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

.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

Impact Zero

How! How did I derail? How did I do this? What just happened? Why am I writing normal stuff? Why am I being so nice, I mean trying to be nice? What is happening to me? Why am I trying to be normal? Why am I trying to be sensitive to something as bizzare as this? Why!

Disclaimer Not Suitable For Reading, because no one is reading, duh! Don’t pretend you do. I would know if you did. It’s not a super power, but more of a calculated deduction.

Why do you read? Why do we read? Why does anyone read? Because we want to live a world that is a world apart from the one we live in. But mostly, we read to live the world of the person behind the book or even that small write up. It tells us so much, it teaches us, perhaps inspires us a little as well. And in retrospective, it gives us a chance to escape from the charades of life and immerse ourselves in something we can ponder over, and perhaps act as well, mostly how what we are reading drives us. But if you ask me to be frank, I never the same about the textbooks in school when compared to the fiction books I read. I would be glad if you agree as well, but otherwise, going well textbookaholic ( Yes, I create stuff occasionally).

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Now, the more important question is why do you write? The analogy as to why would anyone write differs from person to person and well, to be fair each one has a different reason so as to why would they write. Let me tell you, writing is not easy, or may be it’s just me. Writing is not easy when you think of the elements. The elements range from people’s opinions to our own stigma or are they called our inhibitions? Amidst all, we write not only to express ourselves but it is what frees us, frees up from the charades of life, frees us from ourselves. Ourselves! Interesting, right? Well, yes! Because if you could  observe the broader picture, we are the ones who keep us from writing. We give excuses saying that it is the work, it is the life happening, it is this or that and the most common of them which not surprisingly I use all the time is “Writers Block”.

This brings me to the most important aspect that I wanted to discuss, or if you care to discuss that is : What would make someone read a post? A tacky title? A provoking photo? The few lines under the title, also called as an excerpt, giving a brief about the actual post, or sometimes it’s just the first 50-60 words of the said post. Or is it the name of the writer/blogger, who wrote the post? Because I know a lot of people just don’t read the post. I have come across a wide variety of people (by people I mean bloggers, some of them friends as well), or in general, a majority of whom just don’t read the post. WordPress makes it easy to navigate through the feed of the bloggers one follow. But then again, why don’t people read the post in their Reader feed? Is it the small excerpt that somehow leads to the possible neglect. Neglect is a strong word. I would rather say ‘Like‘ the post without actually reading it. Because reading would basically generate a thought, howsoever is not always favourable most of the time, but that is what the comment section is for – to understand the others point of view.

To give a better picture of what goes in the mind of a writer is a cumulation of a million thoughts, carefully formulated to make a logical sense of the topic at hand, and while at it address the various issues at hand and probably seek help from people reading, or inspire a little, if need be. Or sometimes people just want to be heard and see if others could relate, just to assure themselves that they are just not alone. But I guess that would be asking too much of people.

This brings to the realization that why I am stressing out on so much? Why can’t I just write the stupid stuff that I usually write and be done with it. Because in my time of writing all this while, I have come across people who are not perfect. Perfect!? Such a cliche word. So, let me rephrase : I have come across people who are imperfectly perfect, because we as writers want to be heard, no doubt, but at the same time we also need that shoulder to lean on or just be there, even if one can’t offer a shoulder. I always wanted to be that shoulder or to lend a hand or just be there, listen, or perhaps just read and tell them that “It is going to be alright”.

To the imperfectly-perfect people,
I just want to tell you and assure that I am here for you, anyday, anytime. I am not perfect either. so, bear with me, we will go through the mess together.
– Imperfect being.

And like my title suggests, I want to leave an impact. People usually look for a positive outlook at life, I fail to do so, at every word I write, ever letter I carve. As a matter of fact, I do the exact opposite thing, give the glimpse of the dark side. It is a purview of a person enduring most of it. So, it is also a concern that no one else faces the same darkness, and fight those demons alone. It is just to reassure that I can’t win that battle, but I have seen Spartan, Gladiator and the likes of it. I will leave it at that.

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How! How did I derail? How did I do this? What just happened? Why am I writing normal stuff? Why am I being so nice, I mean trying to be nice? What is happening to me? Why am I trying to be normal? Why am I trying to be sensitive to something as bizzare as this, comments (what now?), people reading my blog(Am I being serious now!) ? Where did all the dark stuff go? Where is my old fried, darkness? Why am I reaching for the light? Why!

–  Enigma