I have nothing real to complain about. But I am broken. I don’t know what made me a broken person or when I became one, but if I am asked to guess the reasons it would be in the line of
“Was it the loss, was it the weird first relationship, the family’s betrayal, the dysfunctional relationships, my internet addiction or me crossing the line.”
Somewhere I became a broken pot that never feels complete. No matter how hard I try to fix the pieces together the cracks remain. Sometimes the cracks look bigger than the pieces.
High and low is the story of my life. I wish for a stable line.
Most nights go by when I am staring into the screen.
Some nights I see myself floating in a sail-less boat on a windless ocean.
Some nights I am staring in to an abyss and it is staring back at me.
Some nights I want it all to stop.
Most days go by before I realise it is gone.
Most days I am not there.
Some days I want to be left alone.
Some days I am there even if I don’t want to.
Some nights I sleep. Some days I see light.
But I did gain something valuable from all the chaos, a special power, the power to see other cracked pots. I want to help fix their cracks, it may be a selfish wish that if someone gets better then there is hope for me too. Sometimes I see someone give up, other times I see someone who has walked this path for a long time with no end in sight. I keep telling myself “ you are not alone, there are others who can relate”, sometimes it helps.
Who knows, I may have broken or is breaking or will break a few pots because of my obsession with my cracks. The thought that people who live carelessly end up hurting and breaking those who live deeply from The Great Gatsby is something that keeps ringing in my head. Sometimes I have been careless and sometimes I have been on the receiving end of carelessness. I keep telling myself “We are all fragile let us handle each other with care”, sometimes it helps.
I am trying to minimize the actions and words that could leave irreversible negative consequences in the universe. But I am not patient enough or tolerant enough yet to become successful at it. When you have the power to see someone’s hurt you either help them or attack them. Sometimes I help and other times I attack. I mostly attack the ones that matter. I tell myself “Lets count to three when we get the urge to let out negativity into the universe”, sometimes it helps.
I run away from real things to look for feelings in imaginary places. Maybe reality will never be good enough for me and I will keep looking for my place and keep falling. I wish I don’t give up and repeat the cycle till I find my place or till my day comes. I keep telling myself “A stable line is not our thing, accept it and ride the cycle or find a way to stop the cycle, either way we will be set free”, sometimes it helps.
Today was yet another empty day I was trying to fill with the troubles and feelings of imaginary people but I changed it when I said to myself that “ Lets take one tiny step today” and it is helping.
