A Mere Beginning

I have come to realize that sleep is a bitter form of refuge. You think that it is going to help you but you always end up waking up to the same situations that you have been running away from. It only delays judgment. But judgment has to come no matter how or when. And usually when it is thrown upon our shoulders we complain that we did not want things to go this way. Anyway, I feel I lack the strength to face life. I am constantly running away from situations. Ignorance is what I am living in. it is my new best friend. But don’t we all at certain points in our life choose to live in ignorance? Especially when the circumstances are averse. Or when we are just simply helpless. But the ways of this world tell me that this isn’t how this is supposed to be.

Everyone is used to having two selves. One is the inner self and the other is the outer self which is in show for the world. This is the one which we mould as per rules or rather norms of what is socially acceptable. I have created for my self an ‘outer self’ that seems impeccably perfect. I have faced so much heartbreak, have lost so much of faith in the ways of this world that I now have found a new refuge: I have started living in this outer self. This outer self is rooted in the soil of ignorance. It is nothing but a façade of bravery to save me from my inner self. The self who is full of unanswered questions that hurt and bleed like unattended wounds whenever I move too much, with problems that need to be solved but whose solution isn’t in sight.

So to say, my inner self is the real me, that I cannot show anyone. The me who is hurt, crying, condemning all her mistakes. It is at every moment face to face with all the questions and memories that haunt me, that are nothing but pure pain. These are the things which throw me back in the depths of my despair.

So, no wonder I fled.

But I cannot escape.

Maybe I don’t even want to. I feel hollow without my inner self. I feel numb. How can one ever escape his true being? His real purpose.

Writing has always been my outlet, my refuge. But lately I have given it up too. I just lack the faith that I need to continue to write. I haven’t touched my diaries for months. And it wasn’t the case too that any such desire ever surfaced. But I have also come to face the fact that I cannot stand this hollowness anymore. I have to be what I am.

I need to tend my wounds. They need to heal, not be forgotten. I am going to be myself again. I will find answers because I have realized that is the only way to close the book and really move on. Even if no one else is going to contribute or contemplate those. Just the way someone said to me ‘don’t blog because you want people to read, blog because you want to express or write.’

And after all they are an integral part of my soul, my existence.

So, here it’s me coming out of my blank page situations and I am choosing to write again, to be myself again.

I am finally going to wake up. And I hope to make this a profound record of my journey from now on.