Something deep

I am lost on words. Possibly because sometimes a shock is deep enough to rattle you off your perch. The unfortunate part is that the matters then slip away from your clutches, onto the mercy of someone else. When that happens, you burn from inside. You feel hollow, empty…lost. You feel this way as long as your brain can think and recall all the good times. Those good times slap you back in the face. It’s like enduring a with-drawl period after drugs.

This is the time when you have everything to give, but nothing to receive. One day, I’ll drain. One day, I won’t have the strength to continue this. As much I want to keep that day at bay, I feel that it will come, sooner or later. But that day doesn’t worry me anymore. Everyday, the with-drawl symptom’s intensity increases. I feel increasingly hollow as each day now passes.

I remember that day when I was sick and I begged my parents to not send me to school. They thought what most parents suspect at first; they thought I was putting up a fluke. They didn’t listen to my demands that day. I was forced to go. Now, I’m thrusted into a position that makes me feel horrible beyond my imagination. And there is no one who I can share this with. No one who would believe me.

You know, friends are there to console and listen to you. But no one really cares. It’s natural, too. Why would they care when they’re having a good time with their lives? Why would someone vicariously march through the desolate plains of someone else when they have their own gardens to stroll on. So this ineptitude at communicating doesn’t really count when you know there is no one to receive what you want to send.

Even after the day that I wouldn’t be able to give away anything, it will leave a deep scar. Just like the scars on my face that sometimes remind me of what I could’ve been without them. Adding another scar to the collection doesn’t seem significant, but it is. Every scar has it’s own story to tell, and the one that is now etching it’s way into me right now is the deepest of them all.

But all is not lost.

There is still hope. I can try to stop all of this. Repair the damage. And I’m trying. I’m trying.


Reflecting back while moving forward

From a past couple of days, my life has turned upside down. It has meandered past expectations into the realms of the unthinkable. All of this – unfortunately – isn’t positive at all. I was looking to put words to the circumstances I’m enduring right now but they wouldn’t just flow. Sometimes, even the hardest of circumstances steal your words.

I opened, without conviction, a notepad I used to write on. On the very first page, I found a poem I once wrote for the sake of practice; here it is:-

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