Stagnant waters.

Where is the fire for life? Where is the passion to go on?
I have lost the purpose to go on. I can't find it in this huge pile of relations, fuck ups, people, expectations and responsibilities. I cannot feel it anymore - the urge to push forward and create something.

My life is like a ship left on cruise control. Aimlessly floating in space, without a destination, without a course. What is the point of a ship that goes nowhere?

Question after question is all that runs through my mind. One unanswerable question after another. Each one bearing down on me like dead weights, not to be lifted until answered.

It is not nice to carry so many unanswered questions. They become heavier and heavier every time they pop in into my head. A repetitive burden that latches onto you and doesn't let go.

They follow me every where. Everywhere I go, bubbling up to the surface and then stewing in the recesses of my mind. Forever occupying whatever free mind space that is left.

I cannot answer these questions. If I could, things would have been far more simpler. How do I find the answers to all these questions? Should I spend my time resolving them one at a time or wait and let the answers come to me?

I can't wait much longer. I must break free from this burden. There are places that I must go to, things I must experience and all that I have to give to this world. There are so many journeys to make. Yet, I am stuck here, anchored to this state of mind, without knowing how to go free.

My ship yearns to move forward. It creaks in its static position waiting to feel the wind, the thrill of momentum.

The scenery around is getting boring and seems to instill waves of lethargy.

Now I know what a dog on a leash feels like. Now I understand.

Tamed beasts cannot carve their own path. It is the wild ones that have the privilege to do so, but living in the wild has its costs.  

World in negative.

It's fucked up. It's all so fucked up.
Vision has become a passive tool now. Used only to navigate and blend through crowds. Colors have faded out of focus, leaving a barren topography of the world for me to stare at.

It's seems so unreal. As if I'm locked up inside a large hall, sitting alone amidst endless rows of chairs, while images of my life endlessly flash on the giant screen. My eyes are glued to the screen, but nothing stimulates a response. 
A giant clock laboriously ticks to acknowledge the passing time, as new images keep pouring onto the screen, forever repainting the canvas, forever stealing the focus of my eyes. My mind is lost in thoughts of worlds that will never exist. Simply because they are figments of my imagination and wishful thinking. Worlds that stimulate positive emotions, making me unused to the bitter taste of reality.  

What does that say about me? Doesn't that mean I'm delusional? 
I don't know, but it has made me a prisoner of my mind. 

The stench of this prison is bearing down on me, spurning fatalistic speeches about life, misery and the meaning of existence. Hoping that such ramblings will result in necessary catharsis.  

Without a meaning for life you cannot go on living. You need it to build a purpose, a future and finally a meaningful life. I recently lost mine. I'm looking for a new one. 

My eyes are scanning the world for that something. Something that just might ignite color back into my world. Restore the will to survive, and continue to provide fuel for future times. Is there such a thing out there?
Will I catch it before it disappears for good? 

All unanswerable questions. Endlessly surfacing from the depths of my mind. 

That is just one part of this bizarre mind-space. Though, one that has all my attention these days. Daily life has become a redundant obligation. Soon I could be mistaken for a walking zombie. 

A frenzy of images still flood the screen. It has never stopped.
It gets worse during sleep and dreams. There is nothing telling me - "It isn't real".

Torment: The End.

Do you know what happens when a vase is broken and stuck back together repeatedly? It eventually breaks so much that it cannot be mended back anymore. In fact, the only way you can get the vase back to how it looked at first, is to melt it down and remake that whole thing, from scratch.

So does a heart that has been broken in a similar fashion. My heart.
Not the organ that pumps blood into my body, but that non-existent organ that pumps life into my conscious and subconscious being. The source of my emotions, thought, passion and Ego. The very thing that defines me. The thing that makes me do what I do.
Now, it lays broken. Unwilling to mend back together, because it knows, it can't be broken anymore. It can't take it. It won't take it.

Birds chirp outside my balcony. The morning wind carries their cries to all those who can hear. The sun is about to rise. The world will turn again. These things would stir any soul into action, injecting life into them.

Today, mine lays still. Unaffected by chirps, untouched by words.
The heart is broken. But it will go on. It will still work. It will churn its gears; despite being pounded into scrap metal. It has become an expert at doing that now.

Damage gets to everything in time. With each pounding, something is lost.
Piece by piece, too much has crumbled down from my heart. Lost. Irretrievable.

It has retreated deep into the dungeons of my being now. Even I can't reach it anymore. No matter how bad I miss it.

But there is a silver lining. A very thin one.

This marks the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one. One that I don't even understand or can predict. One that will change things forever.

For those who have been reading my posts....

The torment in my mind has officially ended. The storm has blended into my world. It has seeped into everything it has touched. It has become a part of me.

The resistance has ended. Now I patiently wait, for the next turmoil in queue. 

Torment: A lull in the storm.

I know that I generally talk about my life as if it were the worst thing to happen. As if I hate every fiber of my being. I do, but there are moments of brief experiences of pure emotion that emulate a "good life". Brief moments of pure existence accentuated through external stimulus. Stimulus that goes along the lines of talking, watching, being and interacting with other kindled "souls" who are compassionate and empathetic despite their circumstances. It instills something in you. Something that makes you want to live on into the next day, with the assurance that not everything in life is bitter.

They are the moments that lull the stormy torment of my mind. They are the ones that validate meaning in life. They are the ones that make you want to fight for meaning in life.

They are scarce, found in the most unexpected of places, visible only to the seeking eye; which invigorate you with pure emotion, making you feel alive, such that you are left feeling glad that you were alive to witness them. Though I say it with such grandeur, they are not grand, they are not phenomenal. They are simple, pure and touching. The last one being the most important of all.

In my life, these are the moments.....

-Looking at the face of the person I love. The very existence of the person, the meaning that faces invokes in me, makes available a surge of energy, a fire, that enables me to break free from my chains and rise with the occasion. There is no real exchange of energy happening. Just having that face in front of me, what it means to me, creates a feeling so strong and pure that it almost seems real.

-The old lady who comes to clean the building I stay in. She comes everyday, whether it's hot, cold or "sick". She leaves her chappal outside the building. She cleans every floor. She takes out everyone's garbage.
From the first day w met, she never drops an opportunity to have a little chat and to ask how I'm doing, even though our relationship begins and ends on the veranda outside my room; our own spot where we have our little chats. From our "little chats" I've come to learn that her circumstances aren't in any way pleasant. Hell, they are unfair. Yet, I've seen her express only emotions so far - a bright smile that lights up every inch of her face, and tear filled eyes followed by a crackling voice. The later, occurred only twice, when she was weeping for her children. Otherwise, her face is brighter than a sunflower, despite her dark skin tone.
When she comes around, my mind calms down. It forgets about all it's worries, because my mind itself knows they can wait until we've said our goodbyes.

-Standing on the terrace, watching the world zoom by under my feet (or so to speak), unaware of my presence looking down on them. It shows me how big the world really is. Take the number of livings things in the world, multiply it by the number of worlds in each of these minds; that's how big the world really is. Compared to that I am not even a fraction. I'm a decimal. Insignificant by sheer number itself, forget everything else. It tells me I'm not the only lonely one around. There are millions more, and some of them don't even know it. It calms the tides of despair in my head.

The most beautiful things to experience, that are available, are present among us, they are present in us. But, we all have taken human contact and interaction so much for granted that we've forgotten how to appreciate them. Everyone of us, even me. But that is just an after-thought.

These are my moments of peace, strength and tranquility. They are vibrant, strong and generate from within. Nonetheless, they are moments. Random, spaced out, short-lived.

After all, they are just lulls in the storm.

  

Torment: Continued.

It'a all so lonely. So quiet. So distant. So much like a dream. I keep waiting, hoping I'll wake up. I close my eyes, open them again; nothing changes. Everything is the same. I am trapped, or that's how my body feels. My mind cannot go beyond these physical boundaries. It's stuck here forever, in a body of flesh and bones that give  away at the slightest impact. After that, where will it go? Nowhere. It'll end right there.

So, there is no escape. Just a window to look at the world outside, and limbs to navigate it. No purpose. No goal. Just raw existence. Living, breathing, watching. Mute, dead, hollow. Time ticks by, without actually ticking. The end is coming, it's one second closer every time. The end of existence is coming. Only IT knows when.

It will take everything away from me. Everything I know and feel. The world will be gone, but the rest of will still have me, or what's left of me.

So why am I living? Just to die someday, and remain dead forever. I don't really know, but that's the way it seems to be for everyone else. All those who lived and died before us. They are never coming back. My life is no more important than theirs. My beliefs are no more firmer than theirs. My desires are no more stronger than theirs. They all are like me. I am like of all them. We are no different, just separated by time and body. I am no more alone than they were. We all are alone. In our minds, in our thoughts. We live. We die. The rest of it is meaningless. Everything we do, say and hear, holds meaning so long as we live. That's why the dead don't go to schools or attend concerts. Dead people don't react. To them, a dagger piercing their skin is the same as ice cream dripping down their hands. When everything around is the same, there can no meaning, no distinction.

But that's just my mind talking. It loves putting me down. It loves driving me towards insanity. It loves to make me contemplate death.

It maybe because everything around me makes me wish I was never born. 

Torment: Chapter 1.

I haven't really written anything in a while now. Haven't completed anything I have started. My mind is tired. It just wants to rest for a while. It just wants someone to say "It'll all be OK." But nothing really happens.

Blocked. Every new day is a dragging experience, going on until it is replaced by another. "Time is flying". But, nothing is really happening. Every thing is still; stubborn, alien. The air is suffocating my lungs; not setting them free, not letting them die. Time seems still, yet it is flying by. Am I a part of this world or am I trapped inside this mind and body?

Where does my life lead to? Where does it end?...

What am I fighting for?

Why can't I know the answer?

Why....?

There is no answer. Just silence, as always.

WHY?!
...
...
...

Is there even a future...?

There is no answer.
Just silence.
As always. 

The Gamble.

A lot of time has passed. Things around me are changing, for good, maybe. Uncertainty colours everything i see and hear. Doubt and fear cloud my mind.

It's like a coin toss; before it lands to give a verdict, you can imagine the different outcomes of that one little action and try to comprehend the various possibilities that those outcomes can trigger. As so long as it is air borne, you can let your mind run free.

Once it lands, the verdict is decided. There is no turning back.

But while the coin is still in its mid-air flip, while it is still tracing out its trajectory, our minds are locked in this intense struggle with reality, noticing every single flip of the coin, its path, speed, trying very hard to calculate what the result will be, trying to outwit chance itself. The intensity escalates as the coin rises and falls. It peaks just before the coin lands. When the coin ultimately hits the ground, so do our delusions, shattering on impact, leaving us face to face with stark reality that cannot be altered by the mind alone.

Life itself feels like a coin toss. A journey where anything can happen and where every flip and turn accounts to the end result. Ultimately, it doesn't matter if the coin showed heads half way through or tails three seconds before landing. What really matters is the final count, the end point, the last flip of the coin, after which the coin shall remain either heads or tails, forever, until it is picked up and tossed again.

We can often lose ourselves inside the vast spaces of our own minds, lock ourselves in and become mere observers of the world outside, mute and distant, as the rest of the world buzzes past our ears. It is amazing how fragile our minds can be.

I am lost. My synergy with the world has vanished. My mind is my only refuge. I wish to free myself from my own illusions, but there is no time. A single coin rises up in my mind's eye, its every flip echoing through the emptiness of my mindspace, and my mind is at it again.