And then comes that time when you are mentally and physically tired of your self destructive ways. Self induced anxiety and depression due to external circumstances gets you to the stage where you finally say, 'It is enough'.
You anyhow want to do something about these symptoms driving you to the obsession of overthinking. You pull yourself up and then you are not looking to find your willpower because it comes naturally to you.
You meditate to mediate the argument between the two minds that reside in you.
There is silence around me; at least the one my ears cannot hear. Yet this commotion in my mind jumbles my thoughts which scream in agony; a pain that I cannot seem to understand. Why is this pain so excruciating? Why then I cannot see the reason behind it, but I can feel the aftermath of it?
My lame attempt to jot it down in words is a failure of articulation. Yet I want to pour it out in some form which I do not expect even the letters to understand.
Sometimes the house you call as home feels more comfortable and cosy than the people that live in it. And now comes a time when the house you don't call as your home makes you be what you want to be. Empty house, white walls and a closed window seem more welcoming than a moonlight evening at home with the breeze on your face.
I struggle through this mind fog but somewhere deep down my ability to not react anymore to pain from loved ones is making the fog go away. Where do I truly want to be is the question I often ask myself. Is it being at the house you call home or a house that is more welcoming?
Loneliness is more friendly because there is no one to disagree with; there is less tension, there are no arguments and I seem to be getting used to the quiet in it.
I am just so tired of the routine that yawns at me. That routine be the honesty I share with my only best friend. Funny, that I add 'only' before best friend when there can be just one. The hopelessness bores me and I want to hope for better days than I have had before. The laziness just bugs me because that isn't and wasn't me ever professionally, at least. The routine of it being called everyday is such a cliché that I wish tomorrow could have been better than today and yesterday.
It is a little strange when we have to fine tune the balance between friendship and professionalism.
Sometimes the professionals you have worked with, no more remain friends and the friends who stayed all along sometimes work with you for your profession.
When you reach the height of success, you stay close to people who truly love you. The more you are in the world of glam, the more you crave for love and relationships based on truth, faith, understanding and patience.
Written by Vrushali Deshpande
Each breath that I take today feels like the over weight body trying to lift itself up. Yet my attempts do not fail to try each moment that I suffer noticeably. Today, it is not the same as I used to be; the strong, wilful, joyous, talkative person who once lived life with a laugh that was so easily understood as happiness. Today, the smile is that to strangers disguised as friends, the laugh is suffering deep within wanting to explode in tears. Today, who that I am is the one I never met before.
Written by Vrushali Deshpande
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