Once again I am staring blankly at the paper as like usual I have the ending for my post, and just now popped two lines in my head that may go for the begining of the post. But in between there is a vast space lying empty to be filled in as if fitting pieces of any puzzle. Hope to get something soon as I have to be ready with the post by next week and in the mid of this week I will be out of station. I am just dumb stuck.
Having the endings all the time, may not be the good idea I suppose. I should think of begining first, sometimes. It might get me help and boost my thought process for coming up with the complete posts speedily. Otherwise it’s like having many thoughts kept in a pouch and taking out blindfolded one by one and adjusting them accordingly after putting them on the paper.
I guess this way helps me when I have lot of time or when there is nothing in specific to write about. Scratching my head is giving me burning sensation but not the point to go forward with, I mean as soon as I want to. It’s going by the snail speed. And the topic is bit on fusing, still hope that I will be able to come up with something readable and post able by the end of the week.
Seeing my regular posts I think I should keep that post also a short one, not exceeding 750 words, may be in that way I can compose something meaningful. Crossing my fingers I put the dot here and start that one by organising my shuffled thoughts.
I need to find me. On my way to myself. I haven’t find me yet. My demons may be quiet for a while now but they do exist and wait for the reason to wake, and take a deep breath which they hold on for so long and then they slowly crawl back to my ears, wrap my mind around and falls the darkness. I just know one thing for sure even in this darkest hour of mine that I am afraid of happyness because whenever I am happy something worst happens. But still I am strong enough to fight against all the bad that has happened to me. I am working on myself for myself by myself. Though the depression stays their in the head like a wound that never heals and I have to be careful not to touch upon the points that trigger it and everything goes fuushh..! Though it keeps nagging in there all the time. I am bit tired of explaining to others about it because they make their on point of views according to their perceptions.
I am tired of even myself for trying to hold on when I should have given up, of being strong, of hiding my tears and keep smiling even when it was killing me inside. It is ruining me to answer all, about me being ok or fine when I just want to cry my heart out, shout out about my broken heart and damaged trust. I want to tell, I want to share so may be I might find a way out of this dark place I am prisoner of ,from so many years and lately chains tied to my feet and thrown into the dangerous water to drown with the weight of my own guilt and suffering. The malicious mind is playing bad tricks but heart, it wants to heal, wants to rejoice and experience happiness once again.
I have started questioning myself, searching my inner depths, connecting to my higher self, trying to open my mind’s eye above the physical plane. Asking the universe to heal me, to give me peace, establish connection. On the other hand I am taking my writing skills to another level, I am writing and writing and losing myself in it. Something’s to opening up somewhere deep down. Some sad feelings are again turning and twisting but I am writing them down, basically I am trying to acknowledge my pain so that I can forgive them completely simultaneously I am nervous and afraid of the dark feeling again, that pain and agony, I don’t want to go through it again. I have learned very hard how to suppress and bury my pain and pricking thorns into the corner of my heart where I can ignore them without knowing their presence, but I am also enjoying my writing, it also has gone to upper level in this process of healing. I am in dilemma, what’s happening, what to do, where am I heading, definitely I am not going to stop but afterwards what? What will be my situation. But for now I know of sure that while I am writing for that brief period I am disconnected with everything else, I feel nothing except my content of writing. The numbness, hollowness and the emptyness for a while takes a back seat. For that moment I become alive completely engrossed in it. After putting the pen down kind of withdrawal symptom is experienced. For a while I feel dejected. Every time I want to return back to my writing or more to reading if not writing.
The emotional turmoil I am going through is very dangerous either I will be ruined completely or I will learn to cope and live with my depression. I don’t know where I am going but I am on my way to find myself and that’s for sure.