For the last two days, I’ve been discussing all that I am feeling with few of my friends. And these notes are highly influenced with those conversations. And last warning, it is a long post. Seventeen hundred words. So if you want to, you know the next part of the sentence. Today I am going to do something unexpected. Today I’ll share with you the rawest notes that I take. Unfiltered notes. No editing, no reshuffling, no sugar-coating. None of that shit. Today, let me show you how I write as I go through my day.
No matter what, I am not going to let my writing be affected. Some of it is crap but a lot of it is good shit.
A man’s journey through his own hell.
A messed up situation with no explanation?
There is an explanation. I just don’t want to admit it. I just want to walk away. Leave everything and everyone behind. It is getting too overwhelming for me. But the reason I cannot do that is because of my ego, my self-belief or whatever the fuck you call it. I just can’t admit that I wish to give up on something. I do not walk away. I face everything that life throws at me. And I do that while staring it right in the eyes. Maybe that is the reason why I use the word maybe a lot. That way I always have an escape. That word affords me the luxury to exist exactly at the hinge.
There is this feeling as if something is eating me from inside. My ambitions. My need to be better than everyone else. It’s overwhelming me now. Everything is overwhelming me now. For fuck sake, my breaths feel overwhelming to me. I’ve no idea. Or maybe I do not want to admit it. I don’t know.
How do I tell any of them they wouldn’t be able to? You wouldn’t be able to. No one can. It’s self-resolving and self-inflicted.
I chat a lot. Chats are generally stripped of emotions. Though sometimes certain words do evoke really strong emotions.
Sorry. I just had to run to the bathroom real quick. I just vomited my entire dinner and it wasn’t pretty. Though it isn’t supposed to be. My body is shivering right now, you know, all the jitters of an aftermath. Shit. I am getting sick, I guess. I’m coughing. I’m shaking.
I understand all of it. It isn’t as if I’m too naive for these concepts. I just can’t convince my heart to believe in all of that and take it easy. I’m struggling to cherish the moment. What do you call an idiot like me then? I’m worried because I’m too happy. Fuck.
The one advice I’ve been getting from everyone is to slow down. They all are saying that I should take it easy, enjoy every moment as it comes. But how do I do that? My entire life, all I’ve known is this relentless need to be on the move, to be proactive. I cannot slow down because I’m afraid that if I do, everything will pass me by and I’ll be left behind, trembling because of rejection once again.
My need to be proactive, my need to be the best version of me, is the only way I feel that I’m justifying all the abilities that I have. I walk through pain because I worry that if I don’t, I’ll be the reason for someone else’s despair. I can feel the look of rejection in their eyes.
I’m in a very weird place. Career wise. I am not sure what exactly I want out of my life anymore and it is scaring the shit out of me.
I pride myself on the fact that I’ve always been clear about my goals in life. A boy who always knew where he was meant to be. And to be this uncertain now, that’s a feeling I’ve no idea how to face.
All I want to do right now is to simply lie in my bed, close my eyes and drift away from everything. I do not wish to go to my office, I do not wish to get out of my bed and freshen up. I just wish to be left alone. But I felt asleep on the floor last night while I was writing and I do not have the will to even rise up and get into my bed.
The sound of ceiling fan flipping the pages of the books kept open on the study table is the only thing that is disrupting the otherwise silent air. I am confused about what I want and what I need. And in case you’re wondering, there is a difference.
This feeling of restlessness is something I want to avoid. I want it to leave me alone but I’ve no idea how to do that. How do I force it out of me?
I just pulled the toe nail of my left feel by my right one. Oh shit, it’s paining. I guess I’m too lost in my own world to even be aware of my physical surroundings.
The scintillating hues of red and yellow street light has started flickering in the room now. I’ll have to complain the caretaker in the morning. I should take a mental note for that.
The sense of urgency is too important for me.
It’s forty three past five now.
We all exist in conflicts.
The blue colour of the walls is giving off a bluish amber under the white fluorescent light.
It’s not that your achievements should only be counted, sometimes your failure teach you more. It is ok to make mistakes. It is ok to fall sometimes, my dear. This relentless need to be everything will kill you from inside.
Your demons have finally run a wild and the devil is there to collect. I had to share that. My intentions behind that little proclamation are utterly useless. The statement will still hold true. Everything is reminding me of all the wrong that I’ve ever done.
There isn’t any better smell than the aroma of coffee in early morning. The overly pungent and biter smell of freshly prepared warm coffee overwhelms all of my senses and for a while I forget all my worries. One materialistic pleasure I always cherish.
Have you ever known that feeling as if you’re standing in middle of a busy road? It is raining. Everyone is running around here and there. Some are trying to get shelter. Some are trying to run to nearest cab and through all of it, you’re standing exactly where you were few moments ago. Few moments before it all started. Everyone is still running. Now they are colliding with you, some are pushing you, some are looking at you with weird eyes. They cannot understand why an idiot is standing in middle of a busy road, a road full of car, trucks, and buses. Why would anyone face that hell and that also when it’s raining horribly? The downpour is at the stage when water drops hit your skin like a bullet. And yet you stand. You stand because you can’t feel anything. The urgency, the darkness, the rain, noise, heart piecing gazes. You cannot feel any of it. So you stand. Right where you are. Numb. With a look as if you just pulled your heart out by your own hands. That is the exactly how I am feeling right now.
Don’t push yourself too hard. But how do you do that? How do you do that if all you’ve been doing for last three months was pushing your limits? How do you stop just out of the blue? You cannot. You possibly cannot if your brain works the way mine does. It’ll feel like a failure. And before you say, it is ok to fail sometimes, I already know that. I just cannot convince myself to believe that.
Finding mundane distractions is another way. But distract yourself with what? I’ve hated banal mundane living my entire life. How do I do that? How do I chose something that goes against every fibre of my existence?
I’m hating my bed right now. I need to change my environment. Shit, it’s scary on the terrace of my home. There aren’t any neighbouring lights. Our home is one of the tallest in our locality. The air is heavy, you know, there is this pungent smoke of burnt gunpowder or whatever they make firecrackers with. You know its Diwali season when the air feels like a chimney. Fucking idiots. And then they’ll blame the overbearing heat in next season to the lack of rain this monsoon.
It is becoming a rant, I do not want to do that right now. I don’t know why. Maybe because I know I’ll avoid this storm of doubts that I am having as long as I write that rant. But that would only delay the inevitable. I’ll have to figure it out. There isn’t any alternative. Fuck, there are too many mosquitos here.
And people think being smart comes easy. And no, it’s not your movie star smart. It’s nerdy smart.
What is the point of bravery? What is the point of anything if it will only make you feel suffocated? I’m not brave, far from it.
Tornado of Doubts
Spiraling into the tornado of doubts.
Am I where I always deserved to be it?
Am I supposed to be empty?
Am I always meant to crawl?
I want to scream so badly,
I want my lungs to give out on me too.
But a twenty five year old boy,
Screaming his heart out,
In a dark lit staircase
Wouldn’t be appropriate.
Initially I use to hate working with clay.
But lately that’s how I feel,
Being moulded by the cast of all that I cannot understand,
Being shaped into something
For which I’m not sure how I’ll feel.
As of late, there is this numbness inside.
Just asking for one more moment of my life,
Begging me to accept it for what it is.
A defence mechanism.
Self-worry to resist change.