Sometimes I get lost inside my head, not for a minute or two. But for days, weeks, and months. My head is cruel to me. I complain about how people hurt me but never really talk about how much I hurt myself. I’m horrible to myself. I hate her, I love her. When I love her I don’t understand why, and when I hate her, I don’t understand why either. It feels inbuilt, this hate. Rather natural.. These emotions, they come with me. They must’ve instituted themselves somewhere along due to a reason, but for the life of me, I don’t know.

Life feels like a game of chess and I feel like a pawn in someone else’s game. Losing every single time. How can this be all life has to be?

I want to not take things so personally. Because not everyone’s actions are about me. Even though my reaction to anyone’s actions implicating me are instinctive and always feel so personal. But that can’t be, right? I know I’m conflicting with my own wounds here. Hence the difficulty in all my relationships. Both, personal and professional. I wish I knew how to change this pattern, break out of it. Give myself a break from the constant overthinking and self-criticism instead of feeling like a broken record 24/7. Feeling so when you’re 27 is miles worse than feeling so when you’re 17. I remember being 17. Thinking that my whole life was a mess, but I was hoping it would turn around. And it did, but it has come a full circle. At 27 you don’t have your whole life ahead of you. This very moment right now is the whole life I had ahead of me when I was 17. I’m currently living it. I thought I’d be stronger by now, even more than I was when I was so young. I had enough reason to believe my strength wouldn’t dwindle. After everything I had endured and overcome, I thought I’d come back stronger at life. But the shocking reality is, such resilience from a young age has only caused an imperial burn out. I guess that is what happens when your traumas aren’t dealt with properly. My soul is chaos, my heart is a mess. I am unable to move forward. I want to get lost in this lostness. Give in, cave, give up; since I can’t muster the courage to be better.

If I die..

What they will say is that I was a person of poor faith,
That I made poor choices in life,
That I lead a life of doom,
That I was hopeless, to begin with,
They might even question my upbringing,
But in the end, they will blame it all on me,
That in this world we make our own fate,
That we make our choices that define our reality,

And I failed.

Although, what they will not know or talk about is,
All the nights I wept my heart out,
All the times I stood when my knees wobbled,
All the times I stopped my tears from streaming amidst nothing,
All the times I hoped, challenged myself and got out of bed, every day,
All the times I faked it in hopes that I would make it,
All the times I argued with the voices inside my head over my insignificance,
All the times I screamed and yelled bloody murder over anyone that questioned my worth,
All the times I broke down after all the screaming knowing they were right about me,

So I failed.

Life is the greatest paradox indeed. You seek love and love will not seek you. You seek your self and love will still not align. But when it does align, you have all your ugly roots inside you, every thing undesirable and everything you can’t stand about yourself is your reality.

Sleepless in Raa, wondering if this life will ever get any better. Echoes of all the goodbyes once said, ringing louder than ever. Why must life always grill you so hard? Why must it always pit you against you so relentlessly? Yet it does. It always does. Oh, to go to bed without worrying about every conscious decision you’ve ever made. To be in bed worry-free, and happy – must be a dream. Hopelessly spiraling down wavering incapability to get out of my head, face facts and not just bad judgement towards my own self.

Somehow it’s just the hardest thing to do.