part ten of endless scribbling.

Posting old snippets from notepad because no matter how bad it gets, I have to keep this ship afloat.

Rather a hot day, though I sleep in for three hours more.

I like days like this.

You're just sitting there and the room is ornamented golden by swift beams of sunlight. And you just feel alive thinking about the million things you wanna do or you could do.

Augusts here are wet but hot. But there's always a decent amount of breeze that passes by occasionally.

I stare into the fiber flower vase with fake flowers and fake leaves sitting there. It doesn't make any rustling sound. It doesn't even care to move with the occasional wind. It's like, "Hey, why do I have to be original in this fake world".

I'm wearing nothing but boxers. Lying beside the window, supported by two pillows with green floral printed covers. Holding 'The Great Gatsby' paperback on one hand and a pencil, which has been with me since forever on the other hand.

I remind myself of 'Elio' from 'Call me by your name'. And for some reason that makes me feel good. A smile appears on the corner of my face.

I wonder what it would've been like if I was gay. Would I have found my Oliver?

The things I wonder.

I feel like I was born in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Every time I watch a movie set in the 70s or read a book from the victorian era, I'm like,

Just forty or fifty years late and 7851 Kilometers far.

Life.

Sayonara.

***

Images: Pinterest

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Excerpts from my dream journal.

So when I was making tea the other day, oh wait. I like tea. I drink an awful lot of tea every day. My mom thinks it's an addiction, and I might die of cancer one day. Though what I can't tell her is that, if it wasn't for Chai I would've taken my own life a long time ago. Chuckles. So I was making tea and it's nice and warm outside. You know the 4 'O clock light warmness. The sky slowly turning orange-red gradient. Soon it'll be Violet when looked through my bathroom window. It's a cool view, so I sometimes stand there for a while even after I'd done with the peeing. Especially if my neighbor is cooking, the smoke would be all upon the sky, and orange and violet beams gliding through it give a cool view. Where was I? So I was making tea, and all these snippets of memories come back running to me. And the funny thing was that these are memories of events that have never happened, you know. But it felt like events that I'd already experienced,...

The unbearable weight of consciousness.

I’ve always been pretty conscious about myself. I am not sure if that’s a good thing or not. A bit of both, I could say. Being fully aware of myself has always helped me to know what I want in certain situations, with people, etc. I know what sort of person I want to be, in general. I’m 100% certain about the vibe I want to give out to people, and I am sure that for the most part, I’ve succeeded in doing the same. But still, being super conscious most of the time has not helped me figure out what I want to do with life. This has been my life’s biggest dilemma. I used to be ambitious growing up, I guess up until end of the college. Maybe corporate did it, perhaps I did this to myself. I am the most unambitious man I know right now. Does that scare me, I don’t know. I see people around me hustling, switching techs, and companies, climbing up the ladder, making huge life decisions, and moving out of countries. I feel nothing. There is nothing I want to be. Sometimes I feel like I pea...

All I Ever Wanted Was A Way To Kill The Noise.

You know how fire extinguishers work? Umm... If I remember my high school textbook correctly. They form this blanket or like a cloud of carbon dioxide around the region of fire, thus limiting the oxygen supply required for the fire to survive. Okay, your point being? Yeah, so I feel like that. Every now and then, I don't know, is it, God? Is it me? Is it the people around me? Society? My subconscious? I don't know, someone creates this cloud, dark cloud of nothingness around me, and it's sucking the oxygen out of my life. I feel like an ember every morning, just trying to overcome the cloud, survive. And I'm not choking, it's like sucking all the words from inside me, making me more silent every day. Also, I don't want to lose them, so I lay it all down here, in papers, in stickies, whatever piece of paper I can pass my final flickers of fire on to. Sayonara. *** Images: Pinterest

voices in my head

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