i feel like i am helium balloon flowing away and the only thing keeping me tethered to reality is Jordan's playlist.
From a memoir to a memento mori, the playlist has turned into something else now. i keep adding songs that he never got a chance to listen to, the ones that keep me sane.
Dance with your eyes wide shut
40 degrees 'round us
Holding you closer than before
The only way I'm letting you go
Is if I can't see my hands
If my heart beats one less
Faster than it's ever before
All that I ask of you is one more dance.
- One more dance, D4vd
i play this song on loop...again and again...as if by listening to it louder each time it would bring him back.
Before i found this song, it was one that made me feel like i have accepted the reality. That was fleeting but i am thankful for the short-lived sense of being okay.
I once am so mad at the universe but it is indifferent. i am so scared that i will forget how it felt to live in a world where he was my constant.
Just when you start believing in a reason to exist, it disappears...
Just like that, you're back at the starting line, broken and just wanting desperately to dissipate.
Death and loss surrounds me. i lost a piece of my heart and nothing will ever be the same again.
My ever-present melancholia has turned into something real... It's no longer a comfortable state of sadness and beautiful despair but painful helplessness.
i'll just take a day at a time.
Day-0
The torment of time differences... He was already gone in the morning but i spent my night crying alone when Mandem slept, woke up with puffy eyes and went to work.
Music has been giving me all the strength to hold it together because i made a playlist of all the songs we used to listen together.
Day-1
Does anyone else feel a weird accumulation of various emotions in the center of your chest cavity? i imagine it as a big coral red ball that keeps growing bigger and bigger, then it cracks... painfully and you break.
i thank the universe for serendipitous happenstances today...such as my bus route being on diversion and the shitty rainy, gloomy weather.
These seemingly innocuous incidents allowed me to let some tears roll down in the empty bus.
Day-13
खो गया, गुम हो गया
वक़्त से चुराया था जो,
अपना बनाया था,
वो तेरा, वो मेरा,
वक़्त से चुराया था जो,
सपना सजाया था...
- Judaai, Rekha Bhardwaj
This song and these lyrics hit me hard. We did exist and love on borrowed time... We had come so close to death once. But we fought and now there's no fight left in me.
Day- 15
Sometimes I feel like I've accepted that my future does not include Jordan, but then there are days, like today, when that truth is simply unacceptable.
i have not spoken to anyone except Mum and Mandem, but i cannot really reveal these emotions without crying, so i don't.
Mandem has been dealing with his own grief. He lost his father recently, it's a loss you never really get over. But sometimes, i envy his ability to cry freely and to ask for a hug.
Day- 19
Where do souls go after death? i want so badly for him to know that i loved him. Like i never have and never will.
Sitting here in the dark, with my thoughts, the full moon and nicotine, i can't help feeling that i have always behaved selfishly in loving Jordan.
That scene plays on loop on my mind... When i left him in Doon for the first time after the accident that forever altered our life. He followed me as i was leaving and fell down a flight of stairs in his wheelchair. Mum told me to carry on and i did not look back because i was scared i would burst into tears.
I left. Maybe i deserve this shooting pain in my chest. Maybe he shouldn't look back either.
Day- 20
There are days where i forget about the gaping, permanent void in my life. Today is one of those days, reality keeps pulling me back (that coral ball in my chest) but i fight it and pretend everything's the same.
He's living his best life in beautiful Doon, getting pampered by mum and dad. i am here, missing him terribly, counting days until i can see him again but happy because i get to live in a world where he exists.
Maybe i can spend my entire life in this gorgeous delusion that was once my reality. Never leaving, never moving forward.
Day- 27
The delusion served me well for two days but the come down hits like running into a truck carrying bricks. The coral ball hard drops from in between my chest to my stomach and i wince from a physical pain. The urge to cry and drown the world is so intense, but i just cannot.
Day-29
Truth be told...i have been grieving this moment long before it actually happened. In a way, that made me love him like it would be the last time I'd ever hold him, smell him and kiss him. i have no regrets but i do want more. i guess that greed makes me a human. i just want more time with him.
And, i will grieve all my life...
As i see it, i have two options. Either i spend my days pretending this never happened or just let the coral ball explode everyday in my chest.
i truly don't think i can recover from this. i am scared that there'll be a day when his blanket won't smell like him anymore and i will forget for a brief moment how loved i was.
i don't want to look for that love elsewhere...i just never want to forget that love even in the depths of my despair.
My most recent shower-thought is that we, as humans, know so much about ourselves now that we ever did before.
It's kinda cool because i think it allows us to carefully plan our life...but then of course, God laughs.
For instance, my period tracking app, Flo, tells me all about my symptoms in advance so that I can be mindful. Like today, I'll be able to work out harder but would have to be wary of "reward-seeking behaviour" in social settings. My astrologer tells me about my week, month and even year. This week I'm fated to be melancholic, unlucky and highly likely to fall into "bad company."
Speaking of bad company, i am actively trying to ghost a 'friend'. i have known her for over a decade but we were never really each other's inner circle, at least back home. So, i'm a little surprised when she started introducing me as her BFF in the new country. Friends and lovers are hardly perfect...you have to find the one whose imperfections align with yours.
In this case, her social-climbing and boy-crazy behaviour (recently-acquired) gives me major ick.
For long, i blamed the societal (and biological) pressure on women to find a mate as the reason behind her new persona. Now, after a deep discussion with Mandem, i am inclined to believe that that isn't entirely the case. She's always been like this, i just wasn't around much to witness it. Mandem said that he's noticed that I'm not cheerful or relaxed wherever i return from meeting her unlike my hang out sessions with my other girlfriends.
That's some astute observation since i didn't notice how i was feeling because i was busy suppressing my icks.
Oh well! Quality over quantity is a good deal any day. I'd rather have just two really good girlfriends than an Insta-aesthic girl gang.
In any case, this friendship was bound to end, given our starkly opposite views on life.
i have never hidden the fact that i have nothing in common with people who choose to or aspire to procreate.
Just like my favourite poem mentioned in the previous post, they've chosen the path I would never want to walk.
It's neither good nor bad, it's just that this is my opinion. People should be allowed to have personal preferences if they aren't harming anyone. I simply have nothing in common with them after they volunteer to raise a child. Simply put, i don't want to be around that energy.
While my views on this issue has led me to alienate a lot of my friends and family, i truly believe it's for the greater happiness. Everyone should aspire to live what's best for them.
Having lived alone for more than two decades, being married is quite an adjustment. i really don't understand how people with uncooperative spouses deal with it for all their lives. Thank the universe for Mandem (maybe i am his uncooperative spouse...)
It may sound like a non-issue but i feel like i cannot go though my mental breakdowns in solitude anymore. Earlier, weekends were when i would go though a host of repressed emotions, deal with them with my trademark cocktail of nicotine and soda, a little bit of lavender incense burning, a hot bath and face mask.
Cheap and cheerful.
Now, when i try addressing my issues with my tried and tested rituals, the air in my home is heavy. No, its not because i smoke indoors, only heathens do that.
Its like the emotions escape from my pores and get stuck on Mandem. While it's incredibly comforting to have someone supporting me, I think it's hard for others to grasp that what I'm experiencing is just a brief period of melancholia—it's really not that big of a deal. My melancholia is my only constant.
People should be allowed to not talk about their sadness, if they choose not to. Maybe it is a flaw in my system that i feel talking about my feelings is a sign of weakness and i find it incredibly repulsive. This thought truly only applies to me. i do not project it nor do i expect/want others to adhere to it. So, with this warped thinking, when I sense that he sees my mental breakdown and feels sorry for me, I absolutely despise it. It makes me hate myself because the one thing I cannot tolerate is anyone feeling pity for me.
Only i can pity myself. But my rules on self-pity are another story...
Don't feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
At the moment, i feel this blog is my only escape because its only me and nobody else. i have a bunch of neg thoughts swirling around in my head like a fucking milkshake. And i don't do dairy!
i am fully aware that these ideologies of mine are probably going to come back to haunt me but i shall deal with it then. This is now.
Maybe this rage and self-control power my work...you do need a lot controlled force to pierce through cartilage and skin to create something beautiful while causing the least amount of pain.
i have been thinking about this poem a lot lately. Though i have loved this poem for a long time, it's only now, in the phase of life that i am in, that i perhaps understand what the author really meant.
The burden of being a Libran never felt so heavy before...
i am torn between what i am expected to do and what i want to do.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
i have been actively interviewing for jobs that match my perceived cerebral capabilities and perhaps more importantly, social stature.
But the prospect of leaving behind the life that i made for myself in the past is so deliciously inviting...and frightening.
i had thrown it all away when i moved abroad but can i truly throw it all away for good? Because that would mean erasing all trace of what i was and what i could have been.
I write best when I am either falling in love or falling apart.
- Rudy Francisco
That is broadly true...but right now, i'm languishing somewhere in between those two situations.
i played the last innings of my body piercer phase a few weeks ago. Now, it's back to the drawing board to map out the life ahead.
i'm not really worried about AI taking over the writing industry...because it's not really good writing. It's mediocre...anyone getting impressed by words spewed by a chat bot never really had good grammar writing skills to begin with. It's all so synthetic and incapable of inciting any feelings. I believe that the main problem is the shrinking attention spans of the readers.
Anyhoo, whatever has to happen will happen. i've been on a bender since August, through most of September, and i'll probably keep it going until Halloween in October.
Getting old is not really conducive to such plans. My liver has been revolting but drinking (tea or a pint) is a non-negotiable in most social situations.
i have three costumes planned for my favourite time of the year...kinda excited for my first slutty Halloween. In the past the focus was always on getting the details and the character right.
This time i'll try to get my bits out...my friend told me that i dress "conservative". i think she's right...i love the prude, slightly depressive and beautifully morbid Victorian aesthetic.
i've even started collecting Victorian mourning and memento mori jewellery. It's incredibly romantic...
Currently in the middle of the monthly haemorrhaging ritual that nature mandated women partake in. Coming over here in the depth of my monthly monster is not a good idea but here i am... cramps, bloat and all.
As i see it, anything that gets me to string two sentences together is a good idea.
The irony of celebrating my birth anniversary while writhing in pain is not lost on me. Well... At least i was having fun until the monthly monster arrived.
Mandem got me a bunch of birthday presents but my favourite was the 20th anniversary vinyl of Fallen by Evanescence. i had completely forgotten how obsessed i used to be with Amy Lee. i have been playing it on loop.
It felt so nice to listen to their music after aeons. i must admit the lyrics did give me a slight cringe with the whole 'edge lord' vibe.
It is what it is...
i am not exactly embarrassed by my emo days. To be fair, all the rest of my "emo" peers have gone ahead and built fairly normcore lives for themselves with stable jobs, kids and the works. i haven't and i don't really intend to. You see, it was not exactly a phase.
i still do enjoy melancholia and i guess, once an edgelord, always an edgelord.
The only difference is that i am not exactly public with it...running to Myspace (or even Orkut) to update my status.
In my defense, things really did feel pretty intense back then...
Maybe it was the teen angst or maybe hormones or maybe life was indeed intensely shitty.
On the other hand, life's shitty-ness factor rarely fluctuates regardless of your age.
But that phase has made me slightly more tolerant when i see videos of people on my FYP singing/staring/gyrating while looking moodily into the camera—with a skin-whitening filter, of course.
The cringe... Oh the cringe
Everyone is a main character in their head. In my younger days (a phrase mostly used by adults when they think they are ready for adulting) it involved listening to an Avenged Sevenfold, BMTH, SOAD and BVB playlist, wearing nervous system destroying skinny jeans, vision obstructing bangs and scribbled on Vans/Chuck Taylor.
Now, the aesthetics are different but maybe, just maybe the underlying need for attention is the same.
Either way i am not really curious to see if their adult lives turn out to be a different shade of shitty than us former-emos (are we really?). As i said before, once an edgelord, always an edgelord.
i am quitting my career as an aesthetic body stabber. It does not spark joy, mostly because people are sheep and cannot see beyond helixes, traguses and second lobes.
i am bored out of my wits doing the same ol' vanilla piercings and allaying their fears about the pain *eye roll*
In my honest opinion, living such vanilla lives is more frightening. Piercings definitely hurt way less than continuing to stay in a toxic relationship where your partner dictates whether or not you can get a 1.7mm incision in your body.
Why are you empowering men like that?
i mean, women give life to an entire human being. A 16G piercing is nothing NOTHING compared to that. i cannot bring myself to deal with women who don't realise their own strength.
Anyway, i have been feeling my usual melancholia... counting down days till i can sit at home and figure out what to do next. Maybe it's the post-COVID effect, the disinclination to deal with insincere and boring personalities.
One thing is to be said of my current workplace... it's anything but drab.
One of my shop neighbours is an eccentric costumier whose pet peeve is that shoppers rarely enter his shop instead choosing to window shop. i think they're intimidated... couture can be so to most people.
When he's not vociferating on this topic, he plays the most gorgeous boomer playlist. I've used a couple in this post.
Meanwhile, my boss is quite the entrepreneur with a piercing as well as dog salon business.
Just last month my boss had a major beef with a former employee (not a piercer) who was sacked for siphoning off funds from her dog grooming shop and allegedly harassing his women colleagues.
Let's just say, nearly all shop owners in the borough were picking a side in this feud.
Salacious rumours were peddled like candies and accusatory shouting matches were de rigueur. There were 2 spit fights (one witnessed by yours truly) and one instance of shop vandalism.
No coppers were ever called. In a moment of weakness, my boss divulged that she has an assault and shoplifting record from her wild teen years. Her fiancé does not know this.
i am sure the other parties involved in this feud have their own secrets they would rather keep from His Majesty's lawmen.
i had parked my arse firmly on the fence until i found out that the former employee had traded a disabled badge for his car in exchange for washing and grooming a man's two dogs at a discount. He pocketed the money and the badge.
This objectionable transaction was discovered when the man demanded the return of the disabled badge from my boss, who was quite clueless about the entire transaction.
Ew.
How can i ever top an action-packed work experience like this?
i cannot write because i think COVID broke my brain.
Not the illness really but just those two years of stillness. Prior to that, i really thought i had my shit together (finally)...a job that i loved, a beautiful home (i miss so much) and the best body cuz i had been hitting the gym like an addiction.
Now...
i just can't write... i can't bring myself to write for a living anymore. It's strange and something i have never experienced before. It's no ordinary writer's block.
Sidenote: where are the hipsters? It's like we emerged from the pandemic to find an entire subculture completely wiped out. But, i digresss...
i know that this blank page syndrome is pandemic-induced yet the lockdown remains one of the best times of my life. Could it be that i entered another dimension in my life where i am not a writer? But after relying on words for so long, i do not recognise who i am if i cannot write.
(i am obsessed with this song, it consumes me.)
Words paid my bills, introduced me to the best of the human race, and frankly saved me from my self-saboteur teens and twenties.
So, i am back here, forcing myself to churn out sentences, squeezing out every thought and feeling that pops into my gorgeously empty head.
What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.
-Sylvia Plath
i pierce bodies for a living. It was not a conscious decision...nothing in my life ever is. i started out loving it.
Different anatomies, different possibilities
Some of my work
i thought i had found my true calling. i am not so sure anymore.
Having never really planned anything, i am at a loss when there's no flow to go along with.
"I'm hosting a dinner for my husband's work colleagues."
This is a sentence i never thought would feature in my life. Ever.
i am not this person; such a person is not me.
But adulting has brought me to my Mrs Dalloway era.
At least Mandem takes good candids while I'm losing my shit.
i am penning this post while taking a break from dusting, vacuum-cleaning and mopping my home because unlike Mrs Dalloway i do not have an army of helpers. And, i have another job apart from being the better half. That is a paying job but i digress. This is not a tirade against how overlooked the role of a house wife is.
This is a rant against the Mandem aka the husband, who constantly lands me in situations such as these because he's a nice person who cannot say no. i, on the other hand, am not.
i am fully aware that we're not a traditional married couple that start playing some sort of stereotypical, societal roles after getting hitched. i mean, we had a pretty unconventional wedding without a single guest, no bachelor party/hen do and no honeymoon either.
Why? Well, in our mind the fun doesn't end once you tie the knot, so there's no need to act like wedding is an apocalypse for fun.
So, imagine my surprise when Mandem drops this bomb on me. The guests are a couple accompanied by their child. No, they aren't getting a babysitter.
What can i possibly converse about?
A kid is a left-hook that you didn't see coming. Now, i am busy hiding my precious taxidermy art and vintage paintings, smoking paraphernalia, objectionable manga and anything NSFW. i hate it.
Socialising for the sake of socialising is so overrated. So, is networking. It's so mind-numbingly boring to try and converse with people with whom you have nothing in common.
The older i get, the more aware i am of how short life is to be wasted on moments that do not spark joy.
But i shall overcome. i mean, at the very least, i will have a story to tell at the end of it all about the time i almost died of boredom.
Back again to shout in the dark... Actually just hum contentedly to myself.
My previous posts seem to be from a lifetime ago. They make me cringe... but I guess I really felt those emotions then. The Akemi who wrote those words is a stranger BUT i admire her s̶t̶r̶u̶g̶g̶l̶e̶ delusions.
To all the boys i've loved before... i'm your villain.
i recently went through my old mails, messages and chats in an unexpected (and unintended) act of introspection. Frankly, i was expecting it all to confirm the narrative that i have always held... that i was the one who was wronged.
That i was too pure, too naive and more importantly, too much in love. However, my voyeuristic trip down memory lane stored in bits and bytes painted an entirely different picture.
My selfishness and vanity were plain to see in every sentence I've ever typed out. A lack of empathy and a morbid pleasure in playing the victim...
I must add, that some m̶e̶n̶ boys deserved that repulsive version of me. For they have grown into older versions of their perverted younger s̶e̶x̶u̶a̶l̶ ̶p̶r̶e̶d̶a̶t̶o̶r̶s selves.
But one definitely did not.
I think about him often after my recent realisation. We were both kids and then young adults trying to make sense of all the vollies that life was throwing at us while desperately trying to not let go of each other.
As a much, much older Akemi, i realise that we were always supposed to let go. If i knew then what i know now, i would have done that. Then, w̶e̶ i could have avoided 13 years of wishing him the worst.
Because, he was never my villain, i was. Well, as much as a 20 year-old girl can ever be because even though hindsight is a gift, i cannot expect younger Akemi to ever understand what he was going through.
And, yet again, because hindsight is a gift, i can see we were never the happily ever after.
We were eachother's tough life lessons, the ones that stab your soul, rip your heart and leave you quite breathless with a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.
For this, you need to open up your heart, trust blindly and surrender your soul, because you only learn this lesson once and never again.
If only i had patience and a crystal ball, i would not have unleashed the hell that i did.
Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.
- Sylvia Plath
As i pray for our battle scars to fade away, i realise that there's nothing left for me to do but to sit with this epiphany. An apology means too little, comes too late and is probably not even required... because unlike my younger self, i realise that i am not the sun and the lives of others don't revolve around me.
i pen this realisation and send the secret up in the sky as a star so that it can twinkle at you...
i hope you're as happy as i am.
Sayonara
Friday, March 15, 2019
Forgive sounds good Forget, i'm not sure i could They say time heals everything... But i'm still waiting - Dixie Chicks, Not Ready To Make Nice
i am back again...
i wonder...and i spend endless hours thinking about this...does anyone feel the way i do?
i feel like i am capable of feeling...really feeling...only negative emotions such as hate, anger, fear, sadness. Not gluttony because i am not into food at all and food supposedly makes people happy.
It's like i was born with the feel-good receptor inside me dead. Maybe that's why i don't understand other people's happiness. i also think they are not adequately sad.
Their sadness feels not deep enough and therefore, the thing that makes them sad seems trivial too. Or maybe they are experts are hiding pain. Maybe we all are. See, but this is a common thread that joins me to them.
Other than that there is a constant state of confusion in my head. How am i supposed to behave when i don't feel?
Sometimes i really miss the days i could just cut my wrist and watch myself bleed. i really don't remember when, why and how i stopped self-destructing. i just did. But i do miss it.
Now, i have nothing. It's just emptiness and i really don't know how to fill it.
Today something weird happened that made me write this. A man i barely know has been texting me...that seemed like he was hitting on me. i don't know about others...but i was so repulsed. But you see, i can't trust my judgement when it comes to assessing emotions. So, i was confused.
i spoke to my only friend of sorts at workplace, showed him the texts and thankfully he agreed that they were inappropriate. He staged an intervention with the man and myself in a room. i don't think the man understood why i would feel uncomfortable...but he said he would leave me alone.
However, the point is that the whole incident left me so enraged. Why would you try get close to me when i am clearly not meant for social company?
Maybe his emotional receptor is wired incorrectly. And, he feels all the positive emotions and pick up signs when there are clearly none. Or he is an asshole.
i pick up negative vibes all the time, i can smell the sadness in a person. The man pretends to have undergone a personal tragedy but i smell no sadness on him...just weakness and worse, the penchant to use that weakness as a crutch. If that isn't repulsive, what is?
You know you have been going in a circle over and over again when life throws you same problems but in different packaging. You peel the package open and you find it is the same problem. It's just a newer version...but the same thing that you thought you had put behind you, but no, because here it is again.
Remember when millions of years ago i had painstakingly poured out my pain through Microsoft Paint and told the tale of an ex who was bragging that i was just a fling and i quote "i am more in love with her language than her." Here, join my 21-year-old self in the misery -Lovesongs in my head, killed us.
Anyway, same problem...different packaging. One of my new colleague and an old one, constantly keep hitting me up, feigning friendship and small-talk till they come around to the real deal - Hey can you write me a short intro for my interview or Can you check my script? or Can you write this or that...
They seem like harmless questions or just 'favours'. But i never cash the favours...and my words take them far away to happy lands of success and accolades, while i am still here languishing in a place where my work has never received a compliment in the 8 months I have spent here. A place where i am constantly made to feel lesser and when the day ends, i feel so small that i cannot even validate my own existence. i reach home in a daze, light up cigarettes after another, looking at stars and finding reasons to cry but the tears never come. This voice inside of me has lost its breath It's far too tired to sing at ease All of the things I never said out loud They will remain inside of me
- Gert Taberner, Fallen
So, i whore my words out because even though they are stealing my thoughts...at least my words get to be in a happy place and receive kind words that i never will.
No matter where i am, i find my way back to you. Urge to purge...without speaking. How long can i manage? It's like a cancer of the soul, eating away slowly any chance of happiness- real or imagined. Men at work are making light of my work...done after many sleepless nights. All my efforts. Just because it does not suit their ideological journalistic beliefs or may be just because they can. One of my teachers had told me that never be married to your work...i think i may have made that mistake. Their words sting...my ears are burning and my cheeks feel like they are on fire... i am so confused. These highly learned men, whose craft i would have respected had this not have gone down the way it did. My work does not define me...i own nothing...my words are paid for, so why do i feel like this? i did not confront them. They are still talking over and around me like i don't exist. Comparing my words to porn. i did the only thing i could to not hand them the victory and cry...i wrote some more. Is it porn? If my bursting heart is a phallus then yes, writing these words did massage it and i did climax, a tear-less, numb state of nothingness. Hollow men, hollow lives Big egos, conversations trite Waiting to extinguish any spark of light i feel better. Let me write some more. Not the right shade of brown, Not the right kind of eloquence Not on the right side of right The only thing right i can do is to just be
Friday, June 22, 2018
i think my black cloud has returned. The heaviness, the emptiness...and oh the guilt... so much of guilt. Because there's no reason, no explanation to why i feel the way i do.
The problem of melancholia is not just the inexplicable suffering. For me, the worst is the fear of something good happening. I'm so scared of any ray of happiness sneaking in that i let all of my chances, the shots at acing in life, just pass me by. Like a singer says 'oh sadness! I'm your girl.' i hate my job and i want to leave...i have two job interviews lined up for tomorrow too. But will i make it to them it's a big question mark. Would anyone believe that i just can't make myself do things anymore?
i am constantly thinking of ways to die... at my own hands, according to my own plan. i am not sure if i'll ever go through with it but just the thought of having an exit ready is like a warm fleece blanket and cup of hot coffee on a cold winter morning. It cocoons, shields and strengthens me... the thought that i can bring all this to an end on my own terms.
With everything going out of control, i just want to have something that's all mine... my life.
Maybe i'll get better, maybe i won't or maybe i'll see y'all on the other side. But for now... the black cloud is here to stay.
i have been having an extraordinarily bad spate of luck since September 2017 and if you don't know what happens when people are dumped with an unending series of misfortunes, let me tell you. When this world doesn't make sense, you turn to the other world - the unknown, the inexplicable...the void. i am no different. It all started with my dog, Jordan, getting paralysed in a freak accident and then slowly but steadily my life is withering away and i feel like i am writing my own destruction. Cause you're my religion You're how I'm living When all my friends say I should take some space Well I can't envision, that for a minute When I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray - Lana Del Rey, 'Religion' i recently had an accident when my vehicle hit two kids on a scooter and flipped over. The driver and the vehicle were on the road, parallel to the ground and i was standing upright without a scratch. A bloody scene but a controlled chaos. At least no one was left paralyzed for life... Just like the previous calamity, i have no recollection of how i ended where i was. i am shaken and i am scared...so very scared. But i don't know why i can't talk to anyone about it and i can't stop thinking about it either. There's no God was my takeaway from that night in September which has changed my life for good. Jordan isn't in depression and is his usual self most of the times. But, i can't. Just. Be. Normal. i can't 'Thank God' that in spite of paralysis his bladder works fine so that he doesn't need a catheter. i can't 'Thank God' that he has to stay away from me for the most part of the year. i can't 'Thank God' for having great parents who have generously been babysitting him for me endlessly. Most of all, i can't 'Thank God' for anything that stemmed out of this tragedy and that includes my high-paying but soul-sucking new job that I only took to afford his wheelchair. There is no God because if He/She existed, they wouldn't have put us through this while really bad people walk free. There's no God because no matter how many times and whichever angles I look at it from...it doesn't seem fair or right. And, if there's a God that has let this happen, I refuse to acknowledge his presence. He isn't my God. Sayonara
i am missing my old self. It only looks like i am way better off now...LOOKS. But i really feel that i was much happier, shinier and better at everything 10 years ago even though many people feel like i was a wreck back then. It's not true. Can you imagine worlds So many miles away from here? How many different words And how many ways to feel the same.
- Can you imagine, Dope Stars Inc
i was a psycho, off-the-hook and unpredictable...but that was the closest to being me i think i'll ever get. i feel cheap, watered down version of what i was before, following set patterns because i don't know any better. Have you ever felt like you are stranger you don't like? Well, that's how it is for me now. i think i lost myself when i switched from Regular cigarettes to Ultra-Milds or it could also be then when i replaced having coke for breakfast-dinner-lunch with lime water or it could be when i stopped loving M. It could be anything, the only thing that matters is that what was before is not here. i have been invaded and possessed by a woman who is nothing like me. And i hate her.
My mountain home is just like me. This time will probably the last time I'll set foot there. It's dirty, polluted and a cheap version of itself. My heart breaks...i just want to remember it the way it was. This blog is probably the only link left to my gloriously painful past.
She says she doesn't like it here
Left everything back home
She was lost and bitter
Broken and alone
- I can make you feel, Home Video
The only thing that hasn't changed is my loneliness. Does it happen to anyone else? The feeling like you are so alone even when you are surrounded by people. I, for one, love my loneliness. It's the love of my life, my boyfriend, my Jesus. i actively try to seek to isolate myself. Crowds of enemies or well-wishers annoy me.
That's the thing about breakdowns...you know...the prelude before the snap is sickening. You watch yourself screw up everything that once mattered to you and you cannot control it. i think i am going through that phase. Everyday i have to convince myself that i need to make it through the day because i'm not a quitter, i'm strong i can do it. But i am slowly eating myself up from the inside. i am my own parasite.
If you don't eat yourself No doubt the pain will instead - Eat yourself, Goldfrapp i am functioning but i am also fucking up. And i am terrified that i will never get out of this and even if i do, i would have hurt too many and burnt all the bridges that lead to the perfect me a month ago. i feel suffocated and the feeling of freefalling at the same time. It's really really annoying that even though i want to do a social media detox, I am REQUIRED to stay wired all the time. i am going crazy and i can't show it. The worst is that you can never pin-point what is the cause, you just feel what you do. But i really wanna get better...i really can't bear the madness inside my head. So, i've decided to come here and scream..about a few things that may not be related to my mindfuck but are irking me nevertheless. i mean, these are all the things i think about. Everyday. Every waking minute. Every sleeping second. 1. i am tired of being stared at all the time. Everywhere i go, someone or the other clicks photographs and snapchats about me WITHOUT permission. i really feel guilty for having the balls to actually do something with my hair other than get streaks :/ 2. i hate my new job. i feel overworked and underpaid...it's like this- if you're good at something EVERYONE expects you to do EVERYTHING. i feel like they are taking undue advantage of my OCDs just cuz i cant do work half-heartedly.
3. i am in love feeling some strange feelings about this one guy, with whom i really cannot must-not have any dealings for the sake of my sanity. For starters, he's in love with another...though that's not a woman and it's more of a habit and he's related to me in a versy peculiar way. Not incestuous but social circle-wise. 4. i think i am being stalked and the creep knows where i live. i have no idea what to do. 5. i am sort of 'chilling' with this one guy who's really nice and all but i feel stressed and not-happy with him but when he goes away, i feel sad. i am pretty sure it's not love. I don't even know how it all started...all i know it started with a random dream years and years ago. The kind of dream where you're dreaming of nothing, it's jet black in your mind and suddenly a scene slides into the frame. What really happened in the dream...is something i'll never tell. But i saw some designs...i think they were tattoos. And, years and years later, i saw those on HIS arms. Of course, at first they seemed familiar but much much later that dream came back to me in it's full form. Only this time, the person had a face and the arms had designs I had seen in real life. Did i dream him into life? He is horrible. Nothing that i would ever ever would want in my life. But he does strange things to my mind. i wanna protect myself so i am more horrible to him and we end up hating each other. i have no idea, no surety of what i want from him...except that he makes me feel strange things. Sayonara
You will never believe what brought me back here....
Sure an urge to purge through writing. But something else... a thought- People have so many contrasting depths within them. And to tell you precisely what led me to this thought i will have to let you in on one contrasting layer of mine. From your Narrator's chair A calming scent Of lavender fills The air. - The Fool, Moderat
When people look at me they are intimidated sometimes or just think that i am a materialistic, snotty bitch who thinks too much of herself. Yes, that may be true...but people who thought this initially and are now my friends also cannot get over the fact how pleb i am.
The Layer. People keep telling me that i am good at this and that and i should open this parlour, that shop. But nobody really knows what i am really good at... and enjoy doing too. i love cleaning bathrooms
DAFUQ! right? i don't quite know how i came across this layer of mine. Maybe it's just a combination of wanting my surroundings to be clean, not trusting others to do a good job or just the smell of my favourite detergent. i don't know what is it...
And no, i clean other's too. i mean there have been times when i've moved into new flat where the previous tennant left the bathroom tiles muddied, the pot yellowed and the sink flooded. i've just waited till i'm alone, armed myself with the harshest detergents, cleaners and brushes to get scrubbing. then when my new flatmate comes in and gets shocked at the pleasant smelling, spotless loo, that gives me a feeling i can't express. It feels nice.
What i actually mean is that not just beauty everything is skin-deep. People may be horrible to you but a saint to someone else. It's difficult to slot everyone in a black or white shade. i can be a fashion reporter and love everything beautiful but i like to scrub away mud and shit from the loos. Does that make me a psycho? i hope not!
Here i am again...all because i had a thought late last night. Who the hell made these guidelines about what being love should be like? It's really messed up. i mean NONE of the people i know have had the 'happily ever after'....it's always with some ifs and buts. The 'happily-ever-after' IF at all it happens is never unconditional. And why do we not see the beauty of all kinds of messed up love around?
M and i are back together in a very messed up way. We aren't dating, we aren't even making out or having sex. We just lie together in bed and feel complete. Then, in the morning we put on our masks and go our way as strangers.
We are just together in a very forbidden way, none of his people know about me and none of mine even know that we are in touch. We are in love and probably will be forever. i am hanging out with other boys and he is banging other girls but at the end of the day, we hang our coats in each other's heart-shaped home.
When we are together it all feels complete, but we cannot imagine giving this relationship a name, at least i can't. i won't even try. You see, when you try to put your love in a labelled box, you close yourself off to many unexplained emotions, feelings and experiences. He's not a friend cuz he's hurt me too much to be called one. Yet, he's more than a friend because our souls open up to eachother like no other. He's not a lover because i don't plan on a future with him and yet, he's more than lover because we do love each other more than anybody can imagine.
Yet, there's a painful snag in this system. When you are making your own rules, there is no acceptable way to solve your problems.
