Overthrow it. Paralyze it. Destroy it.

Things have been good. I am good. Apart from the fuzziness and chaos that is life, I am good in it all.

I’ve been having a lot of nightmares, lately. Legitimate ones. Tragic events that are very likely to happen, or the possibility of them happening is there. I don’t know what to do with them. I hate them because they scare me. I wake up at 2… 3… 4… 5… with all of these terrible things happening all at once and I sit in my bed trying to regroup and decipher what is real and what isn’t. It’s exhausting, quite honestly. Sleep is exhausting. I hate dreaming for this exact reason. It takes me out of reality and places me between vivid scenarios that aren’t far-fetched enough to doubt. They’re life-like to the point of turning into actual memories in my mind. Memories that never actually happened to me, but have wedged their way in between car rides with my Tata and songs from my childhood. They’re in between all of the ruckus and quiet moments. Transforming themselves into something too real to ignore. I don’t want that to happen with these nightmares. I don’t want to be afraid of people because of things they’ve done to me in my dreams. My grasp on reality is being smothered to death by the fury of my imagination.

Amidst all of this, I see a break on my horizon. I see it because it is something I’ve already decided to do. I like to retain some anonymity in all this. I remain as vague as humanly possible for me because too much information is not my thing. Alluding to events is my thing. I scarcely speak of any of these things with people because an open forum is easier to share with. There is no judgment here. No questions. It just is. I have always liked that because it’s the only way to communicate what is going on inside my head. My thoughts are so fleeting and numbered that I can never get them out in a way that’ll make sense to others. I feel as though someone needs to go in there and rinse me down. Take it all away. Lobotomize me. Break.

Loneliness Postponed

It’s hard for me to separate what I want and the reality of the world.

It can’t be that way. It’s simply a delusion. A delusion I’ve chosen to indulge in for the past few months. I don’t know why I become so involved in the things I cannot ever have. The people who cannot love me back. I see that now. Though, I fear it’s a little too late. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt. I thought I understood it all. But I was wrong and naïve to its possible extent. And all I feel is pain. Pain from what could have been, had circumstances been different. Had distance not been an issue. It’s a difficult pang of longing because it was never something I had in the first place. Instead, I’m left with the “what if?” of it all. The question I am doomed to contemplate forever. Perhaps time with lessen its weigh on my heart. Maybe I’ll be able to move on and look elsewhere for my needs. But part of me doesn’t want to. Part of me is afraid to let go. Let go of what, though? I never had him. Not really. I had the idea of him. The possibility of it all. The desire to be nearer to him than any other.

I got carried away. Despite incessantly reminding myself not to. I knew it’d turn out this way. In the back of my mind, I knew it all along. I just wasn’t prepared for it all. I never am.