Thoughts Of A Stormy Night

Sitting there on the floor in the middle of the night and staring at the fog covered window, she looks like a complete mess. She has sore red skin around her nails and her back aches like hell. Tears are rolling down her cheeks that sink into her messy hair making them a bigger mess. But she don’t care. Nothing matters anymore.

Everything around her is awfully silent. This carpet, the walls, the golden vase in the window, the overly caring sleeping husband, the ticking clock, one of the two hearts in the room…. Everything. Except that scary gust of wind that shoos away the silence from time to time. Reminding her of some nostalgic moments back home and of the fact that she is awake. Not sleeping. It’s almost midnight. And she doesn’t have insomnia.

There is no moon today. Sky is all dark and red and frightening. Like in horror movies. Where suddenly a vampire jumps at an innocent victim to suck blood out of it. Only, the difference here is, the victim is already devoid of blood, and life. There is just a lot of hollowness and quiet. This much quiet is dreadful.

Why isn’t this fog disappearing? And why isn’t time moving any faster? And why isn’t this mind shutting up already? It has to do a lot of thinking tomorrow. Once again. Lots and lots of crap. About her painful past. And fruitless present. And fearful future.

Oh and I forgot to mention, she does just go with the flow. Smooth. Because you know, only the dead can go with the flow. The alive, they fight. Till the last breath. And she? She hadn’t took a breath in for a long time. Along the road of breathing through an oxygen mask somewhere, she forgot to do it on her own even when she had a chance. Some things we can choose to forget, some things we can’t.

Oh and did I mention, that that ‘she’ is me? Right now? I think I should get some sleep. This sound of rain, it makes me feel dizzy. Stormy gushes were a lot better !

Advertisements

Your Thoughts ?

With that same old empty mind and heart, I sit here again and write. No specific topic in mind and no idea how long or short my words can weave this thread. I don’t know this connection, I can never understand it. The connection of my heart with your words. They say you always learn when you sit back and listen to the silence.  They say it right. This sheer silence tears up my mind… The echo of fan piercing through the calmness of summer afternoon tells me tales…. Tales that are weird, unimportant but very interesting.

Happiness, contentment….. the two things I wanted the most throughout my life. I got them…. I was a cry baby, as you know it, when I left you guys almost three months ago. In these three months I enjoyed the most happiest moments of my life….. My world turned upside down but guess what ? The down side was not that bad. It was good… It pleasured me with the most exciting tastes. I am happy with the guy my parents chose for me….. The nightmares I used to see are gone.

But…I am afraid to share my feelings right now with you. You’ll judge me wrong. I am happy but still, I feel the need of writing in distress, In the saddest hours. Life is going good…. at least for now. My past is still with me but I have learnt to live the present. I’ll share these tales some other time.

A weird thing has started happening to me. After a week or so, In the nights I have severe depression and panic attacks. I cry out loud and I don’t know why does it happen and I feel like I am drowning in darkness or something, I don’t actually understand the feeling. My mind pricks me and this condition lasts for an hour or so and the dies. I don’t know why it happens but it is severe and painful. Do anyone of you has any idea why does it happen or what it is ?

 

Untitled

I never thought about what can possibly be a writer’s bock since I have encountered one. I want to write, I need to and my hands crave for running rapidly on the keyboard but my mind is blank. I keep staring at the screen for a long long time and then think about taking a break and writing after some time. After watching the new episodes of How I met your mother my mood has changed to a bit funny mode and I finally prepare for writing again. 10 minutes….20 minutes….30 minutes….And my mind is blank again.

My life is basically like a stagnant pond these days. Nothing to do except sitting beside my laptop and watching seasons and writing and reading and……struggling with this writer’s block. I am not a writer and I can never become one if it continues poking me. What should I write, fiction ? Non-fiction ? I am too scared to do that anymore. And why should anyone care about what I write? I am not a magical writer who fascinates  his readers with creative stories and innovative thoughts. I am just a simple person struggling with things sitting in my room.

I don’t know when did writing become my hobby. I never had any, before that. It’s been six months since I’v started writing but it seems like I won’t learn writing ever. I don’t even know why am I writing that and whether I’d post it or not…. These are useless stupid thoughts. There is no point in sharing this kind of absurd piece, right ?

But I am mad and you know that. So I’d post it without reading what I’ve already written. Hope you people are doing fine with writing and with your life. Have a good day 🙂