Kaise hum hue tanha?

What a ride, what a damn ride this year has been. if last year was loss and grief, this has definitely got to be rebuilding and destroying. I'm really truly good at the latter. What? A self-destructive therapist? I'm full of ironies like that. An adult trapped with a child's heart and a teenager's soul (and an elderly person's body)! I started reading poetry again, just today and realised just how much I miss writing. Writing to me, to you, to nobody, and everybody all at once. I think there are so many letters left in me and I'm so afraid to write them (no, to send them). Because what does it mean if I still want to write to my high-school bully or the boy who broke my heart or the one who let his mom diss me? What does it say if all my stories and poems involve people but none of them make for great cinema, theatre, music, or art? What if its just blood on paper? Chamakti jo roshni aisay majboori se thak gayi  

I digress. As I often do here. i started reading poetry. I was on a 566 day reading streak which Diwali came and broke. It broke my 69 day movement streak, my 50 day meditation streak and my beautifully astonishing and close to my heart anchor streak of reading. Getting up from that has been hard -- already slipping again in my movement (had a day 1,2,3.. only to be at day 0 again). I truly hate Diwali. I don't know why the hell I have allowed myself to get bullied into celebrating this bloody festival for countless years now. I had almost decided last year that i would never do it again. Only to do it again and realise much later just HOW much it fucks with my head (and heart, and body). I want this festival cancelled. Erased. Sheher mein giray hue sitaaray

I think I'm going to find a way to restart all over again. I do that pretty well too. Dig myself out of deep holes of despair. When you've lived the life I have, you get a lifetime of practice at it. I am just trying to find the right words, anchors, music to make it happen. I am craving everything bad and I just need to remind myself (somehow) that i am still worth all the good I do currently have and all that i aspire to build. Karte ummeedon ki baatein, toote hai dil ye bechaaray

Do I have what it takes? We'll find out. Will I sustain? Definitely not. Will I be here again to bleed it out with ink because that's healthier? Depends. Will you be waiting on me silently shaking your head in disappointment or cheering for me from the background? I wonder. I honestly am unsure why I come here after all these years, mark of respect or just plain habit maybe, or just another place to make me feel/register some emotions/thoughts. But honestly, why do you? Kab tak sunenge dilaase?

Bolo ke kaise hum hue tanha?

Bolo ke kaise hum hue tanha?

Figures

 Coming back to you, baby

This was a year of health - or the lack thereof - and now it's got me at the end of my mental capacity, truly. It's getting dark in here.

If you're on the outside, looking in, I'm sure there's not a single thing you can find amiss in my life. As my mom rightly points out, many people would swap lives in a heartbeat. Here I am thinking of it finding a way to end, one way or another.

None of it seems to stick. It was a year of battling perfection and we're standing in August and I'm sinking. In the monsoon rains, In my thoughts of inadequacy. In my incoherent dreams (nightmares?)

I don't want help. I'm actively blocking it out at this point it seems. None of it works, not for me anyway. I don't know how to customise it for me. A way which is consistent, not heavy on the pocket, unique, but not restrictive, one that is tailored, one that is mine, but supportive, one that facilitates, one that is... non-existent. 

Days I cry, nights I hold them in. I'm the image of perfection for everyone except the one in the mirror. Happy, smiling, supportive. Lies. Queen of deception, overworking, illness, and excuses. My father would often say to me as a kid, you either have reasons or results. I guess I have neither. 

Coming back to you baby, one broken bone and dream at a time