In Which I Return

The charm blogging used to have for me is hard to recover. Perhaps it is the time I blame, for the lack of it has decapitated me to spill out important thoughts, struggling for air during busy days. There is nothing original left to say, no new stories to be revisited, no grand realisation. So why do I find myself here again, writing? 

Right now, I would love to stand next to the Mediterranean ocean, somewhere along a beautiful coast, preferably in Antalya, and extend both of my arms to allow the subtle breeze and an enriching sun to glaze all over me. I want to feel a little more alive. But I am oceans apart from any such thing. Life has been too fast in this past whole year, and I want to go back.

I have tumbled, risen back up and experienced being numb too many times in such a short span of time. This sinusoidal reality to how life commonly proceeds is unnerving and unsettling, and it has struck in an intensity that a fact of life would now be the right phrase to describe it, and facts of life are unchanging and irrevocable. Being unstable most of the times is the stable truth of life.

I feel trapped in my own mind, confronting problems purported in a sphere of disarray in the surroundings around me, and in my inability to cope with them gracefully. I am ashamed of putting up with myself at times, because there is so much to give thought to other than abstract contraptions inside my head, pulling me back. But then again, I pause for a few moments, and try to evaluate the importance of these traps in my head. They are not irrelevant. They are, as Nietzsche would have me believe, struggles and difficulties of life unique to me that I have been running away from.

But I am not running away from anything. I am standing at the altar, embracing myself as much as I possibly can, and allowing for these difficulties to try and transform me. Is it not what Nietzsche wants, after all? However, I am tired of waiting for this ‘impending’ transformation and the lack thereof, so I skip the routine and stream motivational videos on Youtube that sometimes make me cry. They do release the stress for that short period of time, and that is not a bad bargain.

It is beyond my comprehension that these fears, insecurities and difficulties are not becoming passive with time. They were supposed to be varnished, for some continuously would have me believe that ‘time is the best healer’. It seems not so, at least for now. I am alone in this mental suffering of mine, and this is why I want to take back to writing again. I want to help myself confide openly to the world, that I am troubled with thoughts that hammer my heart and head with unparalleled force, and that these strikes tear me open at the depths of the some dreaded nights.

I want to look beyond myself, and understand that there are people like me, silently suffering from their own thoughts. There are people for whom the world is too much to bear during seemingly peaceful nights. There are people who, while driving back home alone on a busy, bustling road, are trapped in a traffic of painful dogmas. I want to talk to these people, and make myself realise that I am not alone, and that neither are they, in their struggle to conform to a cruel world, where friends are often not the best people to talk to, and where smiling and being confident is an imperative for everything to be had. Sometimes, it is okay to realise that trying your best to feel better may not work, and that life may actually not be as beautiful even if there is nothing to complain about.

This is why I have decided to return. I cannot predict whether there will be a paucity in regularity for this blog, but I do not care. I am here, for now.

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