“To write feels like violence. All of us are mortal, but the text can survive long after its author: who are you, fleshy and contingent thing, who wants to live forever? To write is to stain clean paper, press sticks in smooth clay; in some sense always, to deform the world.”
Ungrateful
I am in a much better place than most people around me, typing this out from within the embrace of my comfortable bed, a full stomach and good health. Yet I can’t help feeling a bit ungrateful tonight.
Maybe two straight hours of constantly bawling your eyes out does this to you (where do all these tears even come from??) or maybe the scent of something familiar brings out an emotion you thought you had once so cleverly forgotten.
But this was no one time affair; nothing sudden, I’d seen it coming couple of months ago, a constant gnawing deep in my gut. My brain could sense something rotting, left to persevere on its own and hopelessly failing.
There was a sweet scent of lingering tragedy, long forgotten in the past decade that had come to haunt me tonight. I don’t regret any of this, maybe it makes me feel good, if I daresay. A constant reminder of an imperfect life. Never forgotten.
5.54am
Dosaged desires
What do i crave doing the most? What is my deepest desire? What will fulfill this gaping hole in my soul?
Writing prescriptions. There will never be a doubt about it.
When i was younger, before puberty, whenever i couldn’t sleep I’d just randomly make up happy ending stories to my life. Back then it mostly consisted of me being a Rockstar singing my lungs out to a million people *or more*.
But alas have the times changed! And all i want now is to write down prescriptions; lengthy good-looking, precise dosaged prescriptions. This is what puts me to sleep nowadays.
2.36am
Shattered
Times like these I wish I could slit more than just my tiny wrist. I don’t feel well at all. I may be healthy physically, or maybe not, I don’t know.
I don’t feel safe anymore, I may lie here in my bed all alone, nobody bothering me, nobody giving a fuck about my existence, but it just doesn’t feel right.
Something has shattered, in my brain, as if there was a building of hopes and dreams and all of it has come crumbling down. I don’t know when this exactly happened, i realised only when all the dust and rubble was left behind.
I don’t expect you to be reading this ofcourse, i just wanted it out of my system. Thankyou.
4.59am
Black Daffodils
Bad Habit
I forget a lot, not a lot though, remembering enough to survive the day. But i despise forgetting the amount of times I’ve been hurt by my own blood and kin, somewhere maybe i should forgive and forget, maybe i do *I don’t remember*, but nobody cares.
There comes a time when you are taken for granted and become the social target of a bully, and it’s okay because eventually you’ll forget and move on. It is often times like these you gather up all the courage in this world and start a blog, because it is the silence that’s hurting more than the forgetting.
I had a thought today *while i was peeing ofcourse* more of an idea maybe. I don’t want to forget the times I’ve been bullied, the people who have taken unfair advantage of my silence, turned me into a scapegoat for their own insecurities, those who watched me suffer in silence. I will scar myself, i will engrave physically the times I’ve been hurt, and people have watched and done nothing about.
Maybe I am done, maybe I am not. I don’t need help, i just want to put it out there even if nobody cares, nobody reads and that is what’ll make me sleep.
Thankyou.
5:53am
Black Daffodils
Black Daffodils 