And To Nowhere


I was once, told by a friend of mine that I write too much about what I don’t care.

I beg to differ. I write about what goes on in my mind in exactly that moment. Things don’t go well when you do this.

It has been more than two months since my last exam in undergrad level, more than a month after convocation and a month after moving into my new place at Niketan.

I am lost, I admit it to everyone. I don’t find any motivation, none to push me forward. I just try to keep myself busy to not think about motivations or meaning of life anymore. Seems legit. heck, I am writing this so that I can forget about it.

I have been thinking about what more I can expect from life. Get a job and lead a normal predictable life? Do something different- like taking photography as a profession and go for an uncertain life? Both seem too predictable to me. So not choosing among them seemed a logical thing to me.

Been over a year since I had met her or talked to her properly. Yes, her, Jeba.

One of the things that keep me sane, or pushing me to insanity, is the uncertainty she poses in my life. I don’t know what she feels for me, so I decided to ensure that she hates me. That way I will know for sure that she hates me. Creepy but to me, the only sane idea.

Confusion is not something I want to live with yet I am in confused about whether I want to live my life. I try to face my worst fears, knowing that the worst might happen. So what? The worst that can happen to me is that I will cease functioning which doesn’t seem bad compared to the life I am living.

I haven’t mastered the art of hiding my frustration. But I learnt to confound people. Making people embrace me with kindness then pushing them away in such a manner that they would never think of doing that again. Why? I ask myself that too. Scared to get too involved with people I care for I guess. I see ruining people’s life around me. I never want that.

I am tired of guessing and running. It is so tiring. Listening to songs and typing endlessly without knowing what I want to convey isn’t tiring. Hiding from the whispers in my head is tiring. I can’t seem to turn them off. 

I hardly sleep. Is there any phobia regarding sleeping? Or maybe it is the dreams I see I want to run from.

Talking about dreams- I can’t render life from dreams from time to time. No, not nightmares. It is the feeling you have when you know you are REALLY sleeping and dreaming. I have it a lot. Takes me enough convincing power over myself to ensure, I am alive, breathing and not dreaming. 

No, I am not into drugs. I smoke, that too when I don;t have anything to do. I make plans which I know I will never do. Hiding isn’t my specialty, but I try.

Dangling my feet from the fifth floor was something I would never do in my right mind. Let alone take photo of it. I felt shiver down my spine and also that sensation- the dreaming sensation.

I wonder what I will feel if I ever slip and fall on the hard concrete. How does death feel? I think I know a bit. Dying every second, not literally, was a hurdle race I have managed to overcome. It was a marathon and I took it slow. Maybe it hasn’t ended yet.

What should I do? Right! Write more when I have nothing to do. I want her to read these though.


And why I am writing after a long pause? I tried to have a grasp on reality. But i realized, I dragged myself lot deeper.


Cheers to all those who will never read this when I was alive!


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