Back to Square One

You feel it inching in again. It's been a while. Your dear friend, it was almost as if she never existed in the first place. That feeling of having her around in the past was a challenge to recollect. You were so distant and removed from that period.When you were asked to recollect how you felt months ago, you couldn't. It came out mechanical. But it was far from it months ago. Every ounce of emotion, every second awake was a hurricane tearing up your lungs and sanity. But you gave it anyway, a brief summary of what you saw in the other side of the mirror. You couldn't for the life of you truly recollect what it was like. You were reluctant to cross that distance and merge into her form to experience it all again so that they could find out what was wrong. It was the wrong time to get help. You weren't in that state of mind you were months ago, when every breath was a nightmare and you couldn't place just WHY. However, today you can. And it's shitty. It came at the snap of a finger, out of the blue. Remember you asked yourself  a week ago, was what you were recalling and saying about your past an exaggeration? Were you proper dysfunctional? It certainly didn't feel like it when you spoke up. You spoke up out of desperation but you were light years away from your worst period in life.You were asked, how did you last this long in society if it was that bad? How did you? That wasn't an exaggeration, you know right now, it was an understatement. The real feeling is so amplified it deafens your ability to reason, to function, to explain. And you think this blabber is a testament to that fact.

Right now you don;t feel like doing anything. Not even being alive. Everything is a chore. What are you doing? Where are you going? Is that even a proper reason to want to be dead? It's not, obviously. You know it. Everywhere, people around you are progressing. Making something out of their lives. Pushing through their struggles and achieving societal norms.  But what are you? You're proper stagnant. You don't want to be stagnant. Just days back you revelled in the thrill of the motion you were set into. Hell you drew 7 piece of art in 12 hours, that's more than you did all year. Yet the very next day you tore up 4. You hated the sight of them. The other three were bearable but its wasn't something you were proud of, so you pushed them deep under a heavy pile of long forgotten unfinished pieces. What was the point in even starting if you couldn't fucking finish? Why did you feel that euphoric for something you now can't bring yourself to do or feel again? Today even typing this is hard. It is so difficult. Your sentences are a soiled, your grammar has run akin to cloth dye and stained everything surrounding it and your vocabulary drastically shrunk in the wash yet you try, you try so hard to air that laundry, try so desperately to squeeze into those garments. This was second nature to you, Ash, writing. Drawing. Reading. You loved it. You celebrated it every chance you got. Now you hide from it.

You know you're not weak, you don't need to be convinced that you are strong. Deep down you truly believe you're a fighter. But the toughest of beliefs have its fair share of uncertainties. This is obviously no exception. People who know you the longest, people who know what you're truly capable of, they expect. They watch you free fall year after year, plummet your way to the ground. They know things are wrong but oh how oblivious they are to how bad the situation is. They judge. They place expectations you know you will crush. you have many a times brought tears to their eyes unintentionally. You loathe yourself  for that but its so out of control. Its so hard to explain. Its not something you can control any longer, so you keep mum. You try to solve things yourself. You push yourself of of your comfort zone and try. Try to attain your former glory but always you end up falling short. You're not proud of it but at moments, you're so indifferent to it and you hate yourself more, WHY. Their judging turns not so silent, "what you're doing with your life?", you cant help but question. Why are you not where your friends are? Why are you not studying? Don't you give a damn about your future? What are you honestly doing? Where did all those hour go? Such a blur. Such a flurry of colours and words. You know you want success. You have a list of dreams. You know so surely what you want, where you wan to be, what you intend to give back, so then, Ash, why are you like this?

You finally spoke up. Things have been shit shortly after, you knew it would happen, that's why you stalled. You feared the reaction. You didn't want to accept that maybe there was something more to this. Maybe that wasn't normal.Suddenly, overreactions, dramatics, sudden attention from people. Things you love to hate. Yet it was an altogether different experience. The sort of shit you've secretly been looking for because it gives you a sense of normalcy. But your sense of normalcy is very much flawed, isn't it. When was the last you felt proper "normal?" You felt better during this phase because your friend took a hike, but it was in no way normal. It was a period of odd elation and extreme optimism. The times you felt you could finally get things moving. You rely a lot on these spurts, as embarrassing as it seems, but that is how it is for you. Motion. Nevertheless, suffocation came from the smothering, it did make you want to run, scream and throw a tantrum, but it was in the most "normal" happy way. You still wanted your space, but it was so so easy to get out of bed those few weeks wasn't it? You wanted to work, you wanted to volunteer somewhere, you wanted to be useful. You had creative energy running wild up until a day ago, so why then, ash, was today a different story? Why was it so hard to even breathe? What happened to your grand plans plotted two days back? Your hour long walks to get your head clear? How did it disappear as soon as it came?

You were so hopeful that it would never come back. You were extremely happy the past few weeks. You were so convinced she had left for good. You were finally free from your straitjacket. But were you really? You chose to seek help. Because your rational self told you you would fall back no matter how hard you tried. It was like clockwork each year, only it got worse each time and you genuinely feared one day no matter how much you wound your clock, it just wouldn't tick one day. The higher you pushed the further you fell. You thought in July that that was it, that was the last you were ever going to fight back. You felt so much like giving up and you did, many many times. But you did in September. You fought. That strength emerged. You cut off talking to friends, you cut off visiting social networking sites because it made you feel happy. You didn't have to see how stagnant you were, you didn't have to compare. How happy everyone else was, how shit you were. And it worked. But, dear Ash, you're a fucking hypocrite. At 15 you made this very phrase your shadow. "Ignorance isn't bliss, it is only temporary". But when you're 27 feet under, doesn't the slightest glimmer of light, no matter how temporary, make you feel better? You allowed yourself to claw your way out of your burrow that month. You spat and kicked that last ounce of dirt to cover that hole for good. You were so excited to face life. Your exams, your education, your family. Things you prioritised, suddenly it all mattered again, and you were happy you had to look forward to. Of course you had your down days but it never went back down that path. You could live with that. It was human.

You were happy being alone. You always have and that's just the way you are. Maybe it was due to certain events when you were 4, maybe that's just the way you were built. You loved that loneliness. You were always so proud of how much you knew yourself compared to your peers. Yet today you're suddenly back not wanting to be left out while being alone, something you buried two months ago. It's a SICKENING mix of feelings and it's even more sickening that you don't have the power to assert the last word. It's sickening. You can't fucking stand it. It bends logic. You want both at the same time. How the fuck do you expect that to work out?

You constantly push people away as if human contact gives you hives yet that little part in you sparks and kindles that very human need of acceptance and friendship occasionally. But you don't want to meet them. You have these ideas to meet up yet you don't follow through. You genuinely miss them yet you know you can live without ever talking to them. And you have done just so for months in the past. It doesn't affect you, and that's what affects you more. You question if you're ever capable of friendship and relationships. You're so used to disappointing and being left out. You push and push and it's so fucking cliché. You hate cliché. But there's no other way to put it. You're an idiot. You feel it's better to isolate yourself than to hurt people. You say so many things you don't mean. That are so childish and just utterly stupid that you smack yourself hours later thinking of what you said. Not everyone can put up with you. You know that. You've been through that. You wouldn't forgive yourself if you were the other person. You scare people away. You're so afraid to make new friends because you have to go through that process all over again. The process of not wanting to see their faces for a week and the next week you NEED companionship, like tightly knit sweaters. And you want no questions asked. Because that's how you are. You have these dysfunctional moods that push you away from any real chance at friendship. You so badly want people to understand that. But that's not what society expect. That isn't considered normal. It is what you need to keep yourself sane, but that's exactly what they don't get. They don't get your moods, your need to be alone, your need to not talk for two months and everything will be fine when you do start talking. You need them to understand and respect, but they think its them and take it to heart. They get insulted and worried. They don't get that you're not ready to see them, not interested  in talking and certainly never keen on explaining yourself. They think that saying "go out", "stop being emo", "it's all in your head" magically dissolves problems into thin air. Frankly its insulting that they refuse to accept your needs. It's not easy for you and you don't know why. Its not a situation you willingly put yourself into. And it most certainly isn't in your head. You're strong but you can't pull yourself up, what does that mean? You also know that wanting to be isolated 80% of the year is unhealthy, but mums the word.


Yet today you're back to that empty burrow you dug out years ago. Suddenly the soil you filled in weeks ago cleared out. And that ironical warmth of that cold damp shelter draws you back in. It's utterly frustrating that no matter how many times you yell, you shout you scream, they don't get it. Heck even you don't. But you're the only person who should be knowing what's going on. Everyone has their theories. You're no far from it. But that's human isn't it? Convince yourself there's a rational explanation for this insanity? That's it's not your head that's malfunctioning. That it will pass. It's been five fucking years and you're waiting for the boat to arrive for the umpteenth time to jump on it again and set sail. With all the effort, why are you still stuck? What have you been doing wrong all this while? Jumping into the wrong boat? Steering into unwelcoming waters? Purposely crashing and meeting the sea bed? Just be glad you even made it back to shore.
Maybe that medication will set things right once and for all. Maybe speaking out was a good thing. Maybe making yourself look vulnerable though the truth is far from it was the right thing. You're accepting, you're voicing it out and you're standing up for yourself.


You're still pathetic, though, Ash. You're fucking pathetic.

Think of a time long gone;

 does that soothe your present, love?

Kaleidoscope Mind.

The previous 5 months have been really colourful for you. Colourful in many ways you least expected to experience. You've entered cycles of depression so bad that you refused to get up and live each day. You've entered days of feeling on top of things but reality soon hit. Days like those aren't far gone just yet, but you're up and about today and that is all that matters.

The weeks just flew by when you were so busy doing nothing and drowning in a cloud of gloom you have no idea why looms around. You try to think of reasons; Is it your course? Lack of sleep? Friends? Family? You try to find flaw in everything and anything you can get your mind around. But nothing was as flawed as your mind allowed itself to believe.

You saw shades of grey; the calm before the storm. The days when you felt good enough to get out of bed yet avoid all human contact. You sat up into the wee hours of the morning, leaking sombre tears that had no agenda.

You saw no colour. Nothing. The anti-colour, black, that one colour you think is so misjudged. Those were the days you absolutely could not function. You could not think rationally. Argument after argument, yet your main foe was you. Dark thoughts plagued your head. You were in the phase of playing "God". While this life wasn't your choice, you thought, it was up to you if you wanted to continue it, wasn't it?

You saw bouts of green. Your solace colour, your shield, the colour associated with your feel-good times. The colour apparent on your nails, hair, shoes, earrings, clothes etc. However you had days that green was antagonised. You hated green moments, it did nothing for you but parasite at your soul.

You saw blue aplenty. Light, serene blue that reminded you of the days long gone. Those hours were easy on your mind, nevertheless even you knew primary colours had to be mixed for more substance.

You saw blinks of purple. The regal colour of sorts. One of the colours that kept you stable. It was a fear of your pride being tarnished. You knew perfectly well you were strong, you weren't giving up. You just couldn't find a purpose.  Yet you knew people would take your behaviour as mere weakness. You cared a lot what people perceived you as, but to what avail? You hid and hid, deeper into your velvety chamber that was ruined by fire.

You saw rushes of red frequently. The inner rage you couldn't control. Red that made you want to explode, burn things and smash walls. A colour that signified your loathing, your danger, your strength. All directed toward yourself. Red also gave you a reason to live. Your Bloodlines. You could not be this selfish, could you?

You saw hours and hours of orange. A dear colour to you, a secret well established in your mind. It did well to live in a different dimension. You are grateful for these moments, but oranges offer temporary sweetness only to be overtaken by numbing sour burn. It reminds you that time does not stand still.

You saw periods of brown. You loved its earthy resonance, it brought you back to reality. It was like the occasional breath nature had to offer amidst the pollution of colourful smoke. You got things done. You went back to doing things you loved. It was a colour of hope, that things could go back to the way it was. Brown also happens to be the colour you slipped past by millimetres. you will never forget that.

Nevertheless, you still saw flutters of yellow. Rare, yet seconds you looked forward to most. Just an escape that left you wanting no more than bliss. No more than to leave your sordid cave and to simply bask in the warmth and light it had to offer. It was days like these that you lived for.

These shuffles of colour that defined your mind and soul. Just like a kaleidoscope, these colours were ever-changing, motile, fluid. Some of these periods spanned days, some just minutes. They were horrid moments of frustration, confusion, hatred, surrender. Minutes of pure hopelessness, desperateness, rawness.

You've come to accept your life despite all this, no matter how minimally.  You've learnt again that it does not good to use full stops. Although necessary in certain situations, you knew that you shouldn't rush things. There is a reason why commas existed, after all.

But there's one colour absent, one you need more than any other.
The colour of motivation. 
One you've not defined,


So yeah. I decided, hey, when else more apt to start reblogging that during Autumn? ;)