QUESTIONS

Where am i going? Why am i going wherever i am going? Why do i not know? Am i supposed to know? Can i know? The questions go on. There is no end. I keep questioning, even without knowing if there IS an answer. Why am i here? Do i want to be here? Do i like my life only because i feel it would be ungrateful not to? How can i know? It just feels like confusion to me. Is there really a reason why i should even try to fight the confusion? Is there a reason to be confused? Yeah, life is weird. It doesn’t make sense sometimes. Or well, most of the time. But, is it not supposed to be that way? Would it not be boring if it did make sense? If there weren’t so many goddamn questions?! I dont know. I dont know if i should know. All i know is that possibly i can know is that i dont know. Do i know what i know. Probably not. Shouldn’t i answer? Probably not. Do i know? No. No?

WHAT IS TRUE?

We keep debating if our thoughts, ideas, and beliefs are real or not. But, sometimes I wonder if they need to be. If you simply believe in something, even if it isn’t true, doesn’t it become true for you, in your reality? For instance, you believe that there is a God and the thought makes you happy. Even if God doesn’t exist, the happiness you experienced is still very much true. Or the despair felt at the moment when you start believing that all life is meaningless. These ideas, even if they are wrong, do they not still excite real emotions and so become real for at least that person’s reality. This of course brings up the whole idea of if everyone has a different reality, which I think they do (I will write another blog on that later.) but, that is still beside the point. What i am wondering is if things have to be really truly true in a factual sense for them to be “true” or is just your perception of that as true enough? Is a person with schizophrenia necessarily wrong? Do truths have to be universal for them to be true???

ISOLATION

Have u ever felt completely totally disconnected from the world? In a place where only you exist. Sure, there are people all around you. Talking to you, laughing with you, but somehow you are still completely alone. Words are meaningless. So, are the relationships. Every man is an island unto himself. There are no connections. There are just random simulations of friendships, love, hatred, jealousy. There is no rationale. There is no reason for there to be.
We create the connections. We want life to make sense. We want it all to be true. But, have you ever been forced to consider the possibility that it might just all be because you want to believe there is?
If everything is created by us, and nothing is really true. If all our concepts of emotions, relationships, logic aren’t. Then, would life become meaningless? Or will it simply acquire the meaning that you give it? And most importantly, even if it’s all just something we thought up, could it not be that it is true, just because we believe it to be.

STUCK!

She had never felt as trapped in her own body. In her life. S.T.U.C.K. thats what she was. Stuck in a stupid life she didn’t even want to live. Stuck doing things she couldn’t care less for. Stuck taking care of people who didn’t give a damn about her. And the worst part was that there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She could run away. But, what was the point. Where would she go anyway. There was nowhere. She had no options. In any case, she couldn’t run away from herself, no matter how hard she tried. Her memories were hers alone. And they couldn’t be erased. She could kill herself. But, she doubted she would be free of them even then. Do souls have memories???
No. There was no solution. Nothing she could do. She was just stuck. Stuck in her own mind. Stuck because she couldn't escape herself. Stuck because she was she. And could never be anyone else. Could never be someone without those experiences. Even if she lost her memory, she knew their impact to be too deep to ever be removed. She was forever stuck...

THE LETTER ENDED THERE...

They found her body lying on the floor in a pool of blood. It was half burnt. Apparently she had tried to burn herself first, but found it too slow. [So, she had started slashing her body with a huge butcher knife, found lying next to her.] It looked like she had gone mad. She had deep cuts on her whole body. A butcher knife lay beside her. No one knew why. Her friends had seen her laughing just the day before. She had been the most cheerful of them all, laughing the loudest, dancing the wildest. This just made no sense. But, then one friend remembered that she had had a hollow look in her eyes just for one second. A second when she thought no one was looking. She looked like that sometimes. Nobody had ever understood the reason. Or maybe just one person had, but he didn’t care.
In her possessions they found a letter. It was smudged in places, as if whoever wrote it had been crying. It also had bloodstains on it, as if the author punished herself for writing something so useless. Something which would never be read.
It read:
“You tell me to go away from your life. Why don’t you understand that I have no life without you? Yes, I have lost my mind. I lost it the day I met you. I lost it the day I looked into your eyes. You tell me what has happened has happened. That I should move on. What do I move on to?? You were everything I ever had. You were the only thing I ever wanted. Needed.
You know what the biggest irony is. Even as you shattered my world, every dream i ever had, every hope. Just as i knew that there was nothing left. The only person i could think of to make it okay was you.
I know you don’t care. Forget love, you probably don’t even like me enough to come to my funeral. But you know something, i still love you.... “

The letter ended there.

FEAR

She felt a bit scared. But couldnt really even feel that. She had gone numb. Nothing really made sense. What had just happened couldn’t possible have happened. It wasn’t true. It was a nightmare. Yet she was awake. She knew it had happened. She knew it couldn’t be reversed. She knew she had to live with that moment for the rest of her life. She knew that something in her had changed. That she had changed. Maybe, completely. Maybe forever. And she had no choice in the matter. She couldn’t even choose to feel anything. She was too exhausted. She was scared. But there was no energy left to tremble anymore. There was no one who would take care of her when she needed it. No one who could. She wanted to do something. Anything. Just to feel. Just to get over the shock. She used her lighter. She burned her hand. Not because she wanted to hurt herself. Just to feel. Feel something. Feel the pain. She was just so scared. Terrified. And she didn’t know of what. She knew she was safe now. It wont happen again, she tried to tell herself. But its not that simple. It shouldn’t have happened even once. It couldn’t have happened. She wished she could just cry it out. But no tears came. A psychiatrist would say she was in shock(What did that mean? ) or maybe in denial. She wasn’t yet ready to accept the events that had taken place, and was in a state of extreme panic as a result of the past trauma. She knew the words. She had studied them. But they made no sense. Absolutely no sense at all. Really, nothing made sense. She wondered if anything ever again would…

My pitiable attempt at poetry...

Fake smiles

Crying eyes

Cant you see?

Its not real when I smile

Its not true when I laugh.

Do you understand?

Do you care?

Do you know that you took a part of me with you?

Do you know that it was my heart?

Do you understand?

Do you care?

She

She looked around. She was wondering where she was. Who she was. The place didn’t look familiar. There were lots of trees around her. And there was a little brook running quite near where she stood. As far as she could see there were no signs of any life, human or otherwise. She tried to remember how she had got here. She couldn’t. she tried to remember what her name was. She couldn’t. she looked at her hands. She didn’t recognize them. Now, she was getting scared. She frantically searched her pockets for any sign of who she could be, where she was, what had happened. All the pockets were empty. it was starting to get dark. The sun was setting. She decided to ignore her wildly thumping heart and lie down beneath a tree and try to rest. She stared at the sky above her. The blinking stars. Did they know who she was? Did it matter? Everything around her just contributed more questions. Questions to which she had no answers. Perhaps, there were no answers. Only questions. She wondered if she was even human. What was human anyway? Was she alive? What did it mean to be alive? Would anyone ever find her? Was there anyone out there? Did it matter? Does it matter if it matters? Perhaps there were only questions. And she slept on.

HOME

There is this concept of home in my mind, which I can’t really define. I can’t say it’s being back in Delhi, or being in MUWCI or actually anywhere I can think of. It’s just this abstract concept of this place where I can feel completely protected, completely at peace. This place where I don’t have to worry about anything. Where I wouldn’t be left alone to fend for myself. Where I will always get help when I need it. Where I don’t have to be scared. Don’t need to be scared at all. There would be people who would protect. Who wouldn’t let me get hurt. Where I don’t have to worry about all these problems. I doubt such a place exists. I guess, it’s more like a state of mind and not a place. But whatever it is, I am searching for it. Yes, I am searching for something I don’t even know exists. I am searching for something which could just be my wishful thinking. If it is a state of mind, there is no guarantee I would get there. That I could ever feel completely safe. Ever. But, I guess that’s one of those things about life: there are no guarantees for anything. We just have to keep on searching….

RIver

The river was flowing. No one knows for how long it has been. No one knows for how long it will be. No one knows what it has seen. What secrets it has heard. What things it has touched. But did it understand. Did it understand why I was standing on its edge now. Did it know what had happened. No, it couldn’t. if it did it couldn’t still be. It would just dry up. Extinguish. This world was too horrible for it to see everything and still stay. I wonder how many have drowned in these waters. How many thrown in. how many jumped in. does it know why these people died. Does it know why sometimes death is the only solution. Will it understand me. Will it accept me. As I jump in. as I give myself up to the flowing river for it to take me wherever it will.

IDENTITY

For as long as i can remember, I have wondered who I was. What I stood for. It’s probably one of the most difficult things in the world to be able to define yourself. Comparatively, even defining other people is easier, even if you do it inaccurately. One of the biggest problem with trying to understand who you are is that you simply know too much. At least for me, it’s a big problem. Ignorance, indeed, is bliss. Since, I know all the crazy thoughts that go through my mind. Since I know all the things that I love and hate at the same time. It´s not really possible for me to say absolutely anything about myself. Because I have known times where I have acted or thought as someone completely opposite that. I would like to say that I am a nice person, who doesn’t want to hurt anyone. But, I know times when all I wanted was for a certain person to hurt as much as possible, to die a horrible death, whatever. Then again, I can’t say that I am a complete bitch either, because I have also been nice to people when I didn’t need to. I would like to say that I am someone who is philosophical and has lots of depth. But, at times I have been the shallowest, most superficial person ever. It is all pretty confusing and really, I can’t say anything. In a weird way however, I do know who I am. I am a nice bitch, an intelligent idiot, a pessimistic optimist, both ugly and beautiful. And somehow, just somehow, these oxymorons make sense. Because I guess I, like every other being, am beyond definitions.

Man Na Manam

´´ Isi talash o tajasus me kho gya hun, ki main nai hun toh kyun hun, agar hun to kya hun main´´

I am lost in this quest. If I am not, then why am I. if I am, then what am I.

(This isn’t a very good translation, but it was the closest I could get)

I think this sufi poetry puts in a nutshell a question which has been pondered over by generations of humans. But, it also says that he is ´´lost´´, which I think is very true as well. Because it is really a question on which one can keep on thinking for hours, days, months, years without ever actually coming to a conclusion. If there is actually an answer to this, that is. Sure, a lot of people have their own theories, but really does anyone know? Can anyone know?

I really don’t think that a human´s experience is big enough to understand the intricacies of the working of this universe. But for me at least its still worth it just wondering. I might never know. But at least I might be getting slightly closer to the truth. And even if not that, at least I am able to question myself more. And maybe care a bit less about superficial things…