Someday it feels like I’ve given up a lot; given up myself. I feel I should have fought harder and not have given in to the expected. I should have been stronger, fiercer. I know it isn’t too late but why does it feel like my space is limited?
I feel claustrophobic. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe thinking of all the things I’ve given up. I can’t breathe thinking about all the things I want to do. I can see it on the horizon. It’s right there at arms distance. But my hands are tied and I have to succumb to the expected. I have I succumb to the person they want me to be. In this tug of war I feel that the person I want to be has been diluted. That’s exactly how I feel – dilute. Not a strong concentrated version of myself but a dilute liquid that has no power. Every time I think “no I’m just being a drama queen”, and push the thought away from my head. It feels like I’m lying to myself and the scary part is I know it and yet choose to believe the liar.
I feel uninspired. I’m tired. Tired of waiting for things to happen instead of going out there and making it happen. I want to be out. I want to be free. I want to breathe. I feel parched and breathless, like every thought, every idea from my body has been sucked out.
What’s left is what you want me to be. What’s left is how you view me. I look in the mirror and all I can see is a reflection. I can’t see the original. I can’t see myself but I sure as hell can see you staring back at me with those judging eyes telling me that it is wrong; what I think, what I feel and what I want to be, is wrong. “No that’s not what you want, tell me things I like to hear. Don’t tell me what you think. It doesn’t matter anymore”. It never did. So I’ve given up. I know the book of life tells me not to but what choice do I have when I loose every battle, when the will to fight has been drained out of my system.
I’m tired and I’m exhausted. I’m tired of fighting the battle within me. Tired of thinking like you. I’m tired of fighting between what you want and what I desire, supporting either sides of the argument, not letting go. There is a constant struggle inside me. Constantly making me think like two people. I can feel them on my shoulders. On one side I can see myself on the brink of all things great, with the world at my feet. On the other side I see you, telling me what’s good for me. I want to say “bring down the shackles!”. “Storm the fortress!” but I know I don’t want to hurt you. I know you mean well but would it hurt to stop telling me what is good for me? These mindless formalities, the urge to please everyone else but yourself, what good is it when you and I both know that we’ll be alone in our grave with no one to help us. You taught me that. And now your actions speak otherwise.
My eyes are dry. My pool of tears has dried up. I feel stone hearted. All the deflecting emotions has led to this. Now I tell myself it doesn’t matter what happens. It doesn’t matter where I end up. I will still be skeptic inside, always feeling that things were to good to be true. Never trusting when a good thing comes my way. Always doubting, always thinking that there is a catch, like a Ponzi scheme, there is always a catch.
Maybe In Madras 