Am I living a lie? Or is the truth so obscure that falsety seems like an inevitable comforting reality? Either way, the only thing I’m looking for is self realisation.
There seems to be an evergrowing paradox within me. Figuratively, I’m a weak, weak person. But the views I hold over the understanding of others seem to be very strong. Regret and self depreciation seem to have left a deep scar on my drowning soul. Mere existence is what it’s all come down to.
What happens when a person subdues himself in a society where success is the only destination and others are constantly waiting to subdue him, trample him down? Isn’t he serving a platter to the devil? Well, all I’m sure about is that I’ve changed to a point from where there’s no return. Nothing about me is the same anymore. I guess life does this to you. I wouldn’t know really. keeping it all in wasn’t a good escape. Now it’s all bursting through the seams. Happiness seems like a far-fetched perplexity these days. The only good being that I maintain my sanity at least on the outside.
They say people change you. They’re right. What they didn’t say though is that there’s no return ticket. I’m stuck. I’m not sure if this is the consequence of one person or the likes of a collective. All I know is that I want to go back to the way I was. back when I used to speak my mind, back when I was fearless, when people were interesting challenges waiting to be deciphered. I want to go back.
“Let me tell you what I do know; I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multivocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper. I didn’t want to write these pages until there were no hard feelings, no sharp ones. I do not have that luxury. I’m sad and angry and I want everyone to be alive again. I want more landmarks, less landmines. I want to be grateful but I’m having a hard time with it.” -Richard Siken
Is it possible to have an addiction to depression? Does anyone else feel the desperate need to know that nothing will ever be perfect? Have you ever come to the point where depression seems to have become a part of you? A part of your identity? Spiritual author Eckhart Tolle calls the addiction to unhappiness a pain- body. He describes a pain-body as an accumulated emotional pain that’s stored in the body. Much of the time, the pain-body is dormant, but it can be triggered and then it craves suffering. It will take over your mind with negative thinking if you are not present and aware of what’s going on in your mind. The more you feed it with negativity, the stronger it gets. On one hand, I know I’ve fallen prey to this. On the other, I want to end the suffering. My identity has been majorly compromised throughout.
Hypopituitarism is a rare disease that doesn’t allow a person to feel love. This is sad, you may argue. But how happy are you right now when you’re perfectly fine and have experienced love only to have gotten hurt? What about the time when you start developing a fear of love? Fear that it’ll only ruin a perfectly normal scenario? When you get frequent panic attacks, if in case, you get into a relationship? Aren’t you neglecting your responsibility towards yourself?
I suffer from Philophobia – the fear of love. Relationships are suffocating for me. Even the slightest gesture of possessiveness turns into egoistic male chauvinism. Conversing on a regular basis becomes a tedious task and acts of love are a dramatic affair. It’s all fine until someone tells me that the ‘love’ me. Once they do, my mind starts making excuses to move away from them, push them away. Each one my relationships in the past has turned out the same way. I always screw it up. The problem these days is that the mediocre people are self convinced that they know everything, and the smart ones are smart enough to know that they don’t know it all.
They always said I had the moon in my soul and the stars in my veins. That I could not dare destroy myself if the entire galaxy was under my skin. But how much would you bet that these stars spit fire and that this moon spills blood?
There’s always a particular person in everyone’s lives, who comes along like a gentle breeze and leaves with the force significant of an upcoming storm. A storm that’ll leave us torn along our centers, vying for peace and calm. When it’ll come to us, none can be sure. It’s akin to when an old man’s walking stick is snatched away. We get so used to having that person around, that we almost take their presence for granted. But life has an unquenchable thirst for making itself complicated. It’s aware of our vulnerability and knows exactly when to strike.
‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ No. Some things that didn’t kill me, damaged me to the point of near death. They came so close, that they’re still haunting me. These things made me worse.
“I am filled with things and I battle feelings I’ve never wanted to exist inside of me. I lack too much confidence and I carry too much sadness and my body is full of stars that never learnt their name. I wear my insecurities like pockets and I fill them with my fears and my hands are growing tired from reaching down into them to hold onto the feeling of being afraid. Afraid like chimes when the wind’s lips are sealed. Afraid like your eyes when the stars fall asleep in the black. Afraid like dreams when they realise they’re just dreams and that reality is that one scar that will never fade away.
I’m terrified. Terrified that the things inside me are the things that will keep me from ever finding a home inside someone else.”
The thing I regret most is being the kind of person that internalises. Being the kind of person that is unyieldingly unforgiving when hurt. Being the kind of person that just prefers to keep to oneself because she’s scared of what might entail mainly due to the desire for happy endings and fear of further loss
“I learned much too late that what you called love was nothing but a desperate and irrational fear of a life lived alone.”
The thing with certain people is that they leave you so beautifully shattered that you’re left scrambling for the right words from the thousands scattered all around you. It’s like a glorious mess of an explosion that both destroys you and builds you. Love is never convenient. And it’s certainly neither comfortable nor complacent. Love strikes you when you least expect it. Love upsets the careful and delicate balance of life and leaves it in absolute ruin and utter chaos. It’s the corrosive that strips your canvas bare only to start all over again.
Even after channeling my thoughts, I’m not even one step closer to understanding myself any better.
But do not ask the price I pay. I must live with my quiet rage, tame the ghosts in my head that run wild and wish me dead.
I’m a frail mess, not something I’m very proud of. Trying to set me right will only cause a new wave of disturbance. Others tell me to give it a chance. I’m trying to tell them that I did, and that it didn’t work out. It’s always the same outcome – me, bawling my eyes out; and them, wondering what they did wrong. It’s not fair, really. My insecurities are the cause for someone else’s pain. The guilt just keeps building further until one day, it’s going to cause something irreparable. And that, won’t be for anyone’s better.
“I’m like a ray of sunshine – carcinogenic, and burns a hole if focused at one thing for too long.”
The doctrine that’s been laid out by society as acceptable is the personification of hypocrisy. Why else are cripples looked down upon and high-society, treacherous individuals looked up to? Why else are people like us afraid to approach others for help?
The forbidden is inviting, and the mysterious is attractive.