kafkaesque-dweller

[kafkaesque-dweller]

Celia Dropkin, from The Acrobat: Selected Poems of Celia Dropkin; "Palm Trees,"

[kafkaesque-dweller]

I know it didn’t last forever but it meant something to me

Amidst a rainy September, I had encountered the warmth in your surroundings, the magic in your eyes and the serenity in the smile. Simply bedazzled, every encounter since then started meaning something to me. Something great, something memorable, something special. And all the people who knew about me could see the difference in the scale of liveliness in this barren land of the life I were living. Sometimes I was scared of losing it all, while sometimes, simply enthralled by the idea of a future we could have. And I still think of that idea sometimes. Even now, after nothing’s the same, we don’t even look at each other anymore. And it deepens the wound knowing that we might never actually talk anymore. I wish to end all the grief, but what is grief if not a souvenir for the fact that there was something between us. Perhaps love, perhaps infatuation, or perhaps, nothingness. For I am sure of the idea, that I could have loved you in nothingness too. It was good while it lasted, I know it didn’t last forever but it meant something to me!

[kafkaesque-dweller]

Write a #novel already

before the chaos;

before the chaos arrives at my doorstep, i want to breathe in the smell of my home. i want to memorise my dog's eyes. i want to learn to recreate my mother's perfect cup of tea. i want to have failed attempts of blueberry cheesecake that my father loves yet my sister claims that it is the worst dish of her life. before the view of perfectly paved roads, let me bruise my knees on the dirt while i'm running after my dog who decided it was a funny idea to trespass into the neighbour's backyard. the cotton candy clouds of my hometown, the silence of the church in front of my house, the policeman who loves his four dogs, who also wag their tails at my family. before the storm, let me enjoy the drizzle with my childhood friends. they have seen me with a toothless grin and two pig-tails and still remember my name. how easy it is to hold conversations with them yet how painful to know they are only here for the summer. before the terror comes, let me cherish myself. how i learnt new things and changed my ways to learn some origamis can only be the aeroplane and never the swan. before the past creeps in and the future throws a tantrum for attention, let me breathe in just for a moment. the youthful nights can wait. the people i try to impress can wait. but this home cannot wait. before the chaos, let me hold on to the keychains and diaries, the karaokes and handwritten letters, the gossips after lunch and movie hall tickets, the family dinners and my dog's mischievous moments. everything that has led me to this moment has taught me one thing: before the chaos, you must learn to live.

— dandelion.

[kafkaesque-dweller]

A WALK TO REMEMBER

Taking a walk in the rain with you would be such a nice delight. An affectionate walk, not the ones where you keep blabbering upon mindless things because you’re afraid to let out what’s in your heart. Not that under-confident state of mind, where we’d nervously avoid everything that’s in our hearts. A walk like that makes me suffer. A walk that would be honest, a walk that would let us stay in the moment forever and yet teleport us to our own strange dimension, away from the world, beyond the mountains, across the horizons, even though we’d just be walking in that same street we walk everyday. The same street that seemed colourless, with you it’d be like the starry night when we’d walk on it. The same café we used to drink coffee at, would be a bit more aromatic. A walk that would change the street forever. A walk where I’d tell you everything that’s on my mind, but more importantly what’s in my heart. A walk where you’d let out your thoughts, but more importantly your emotions. A walk that’d live forever. A walk that would bring a smile every time we’d talk about it. A walk we could tell our kids about. That, mi amor, would be, a walk to remember!

[kafkaesque-dweller]

After it all has come to an end, it's hard. It's hard seeing you everyday and realising we are not the same anymore. It's hard realising that you're not mine anymore and all those whispers saying, "you're mine, always and forever" were just mere words but not depictions of future. It's so damn hard to see you smile with people, crowd that didn't matter before now makes me insecure. It's hard seeing you move ahead in joy and I'm left at the same place I've been at for years, a grey altar providing a non-holistic, monotonous view of the world, where there's simply nothing making me happy anymore.

I always used to ask, where do you see us in the next five years, you used to say, "together, like now", well how does it feel now that we're apart, does the distance not kill you? Because it's killing me. I'm ungrateful for the privileges I've been bestowed with, because I am a person, a fanatic, a madman, a romantic. I can't function normally without love. And love is all I'm lacking after you're gone.

Yet if someone asks me if I'm doing okay, I affirm my well being, I smile as I perform my daily self, even though all I do from morning to night is endure myself, I'm ready to smile when I see you. Being emotionally vulnerable is not difficult when you're being loved, but is perhaps the most difficult thing when you're alone, left by your partner for their own change of heart.

[kafkaesque-dweller]

#rewind #movingahead

when life pulls you into a whirlpool, makes the noisy traffic come to a standstill, and all the flashing red lights are blurred out, you will see sometimes ordinary things can put you into a loop of thoughts like -- what went wrong? how can something so simple, so pure, become something that you still cannot comprehend? you will have questions, so many of them. but no one to ask to. no one who'll give the answer. there are things in life that absolutely do not make sense. that's when life is stranger than fiction, more absurd than your nightmares. you will find yourself in such a blue-hole many times, where you feel like your experiences come crashing down on you like waves, and you are not able to come up.

even if it takes forever, there is a way to stop the rewind of all the things that went wrong. or at least put a pause on such a tragic film where you are no longer the protagonist. what is the way? if i knew, i wouldn't be writing this. for now, you just have to bury the thoughts under the rubble of the castle that once belonged to you. you must choose to let time pass on, sometimes pass by you. and someday, hopefully, the whirlpool will lead us to someplace better. the traffic will go on as usual, and all the blurred-out sights will be sharper than ever before. that's what we're all waiting for, aren't we?

so how can something so simple take so long to achieve?

[kafkaesque-dweller]

this!

"True friendship is like a rare jewel, precious and hard to find. But once you have it, it's a treasure that lasts forever," they say. I often wonder how long it will take me to find the level of friendship that I have dreamed of and hoped for, for such a long time. Since I was a child, I have always desired that kind of friendship, yet I have never been able to attain it.

Honestly, today I am able to socialize, talk, and connect with people in a really efficient and easy way because I am still on my journey with the urge to find "that" person. (Does that make sense?) However, it still doesn't explain why I am unable to find one (the friendship), does it? Every time I get close to someone and start trusting them, they either introduce a third person into our relationship (something I'm not really comfortable with), use me to fulfill their own desires and then treat me poorly, or gradually distance themselves from me. Sometimes, they even engage in trash-talking behind my back.

Sometimes, I ponder whether the person I am searching for is already a part of my life. Perhaps they are, but why do I struggle to cultivate a strong relationship with someone? Am I expecting too much from them? Or am I not someone they can trust or believe in? Perhaps they feel that I am not someone who can offer the supportive hand they desire?

Sometimes, I don't understand how people's minds work. Trust me, I always do my best to make them feel better. But does it actually work? Maybe... but in the end, I often end up being just another punching bag for them to vent their frustrations. And then, I get ditched... once again.

Sometimes, people can be draining. Perhaps it's because I genuinely value their feelings and what they're going through? I'm not exactly sure. Being extroverted doesn't always make things easier, does it? 

[kafkaesque-dweller]

In this weather of gloom, with the cloudy maze confusing me about every action possible, you bring me sunshine. A mere touch brings me warmth, a conversation is something I hold dear. A hug is something I dream of, yours can help me conquer my fear. To be loved by you is my greatest honour, I'm sure I'll think of your face on my death bed. Your elegance is mighty, but nature is down, down to earth, quite an epitome of humble. It's the sense of security that makes me go on and on about this love. It's the intimacy that makes me feel alive. And I assure you, as long as the writer within me is alive, I won't ever let you die!

[kafkaesque-dweller]

A dusky night with a hazy due, I recollected my thoughts to cope up with the way things have been. Somehow I always do that, reshuffling the deck of life to feel better. Sometimes it helps, sometimes, it definitely doesn't. It's a try to change the perspective, and try to polish the night a little. Was the moon always this blurred? I am losing the sight of the visionary self I was. The moonlight used to be my crutch, now it's gone, nowhere to be found. I see people from the past doing better than me, it doesn't really bother me but it kind of hurts to see myself lagging behind. Everyone moves ahead when I stand still. The fear of missing out, always kills me, and I fail to do anything about it. At this point, even writing all of this seems to be just an escape and I feel I will lose the sense of this as well, soon. When that happens, I'll be as alive as a dead poet.

[kafkaesque-dweller]

Losing a sense of self is a terrible feeling. Missing the old you, is worse. Hating the current self, is the worst one. In the dark room which brackets make the slightest possible space for sunshine, apparently which is my mind, I try to open the windows and focus on the rising sun. Funnily enough I can't help but look at the setting sun as well. I know there's always a second side to a story, another head to the coin. But sometimes it's hard to look at one of them. Sometimes it feels impossible to be positive. The only idea bringing hope in, is that the sun will rise again. That it's not just me who's going through it. But does that make it better? I still am the sole sufferer of my suffering. I can't help but feel low at points. And the day passes like that. Without a sense of self, hating the current "me", wishing for it to end, hoping for the sun to rise again.

[kafkaesque-dweller]

There's a corpse rotting in my heart. I never got to know when or how I turned like this. I feel no sense of self, I'm hating people without knowing it. I wasn't like this before. And I'm not understanding how it happened. I've got a plethora of ideas I'd love to discuss with others but I know I will eventually fail to discuss, or even to approach. I have tried atraxia before but anxieties are practically killing me. I know that the future is scary, and that I can’t just run back to the past because it’s familiar. Yes, it’s tempting, but it’s a mistake. And i seriously try not to. And I fail every time. I don't know how many failures it'll take to finally succeed. Life can't be that experimental after all, it's not a laboratory. And I'm hopeful, it's just that, the hope is slowly fading, and it's all too fast for me!

[kafkaesque-dweller]

Feeling this so much rn

Hiraeth (n.)

a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

[kafkaesque-dweller]

I often ponder upon the meaning of life. Why are we born, why do we breathe? Why are we here? It can seem pyrocynical and thought-worthy at the same time. As a person going through the phase being cursed for centuries, puberty, I can't help but feel low at certain moments of life. Sometimes, it just doesn't work. That takes me back to the initial thought, what is the meaning of life? I can be edgy and find whatsoever pleases me, but I actually just keep thinking. My thoughts always have an essence of absurdity, which is beyond human comprehension sometimes, that makes me a madman in front of people. Yet I socialize fine, by always despising it internally. I don't need a group of friends I don't like, I just need one friend to comfort me when I feel like crying. If we see life as a journey we need to embark on, I lose the sense of the destination. If we assume that it's about the journey and not the destination, it becomes quite paradoxical, since the destination is the motivation for the journey, any journey perhaps. If we arrive at the destination, then we have the right to say, it's about the journey. For me, recently, life's been a maze, an odyssey I'm not really enjoying. But I need to find the beauty when it's bleak. June has ended, July has risen, every drop pouring down as rain gives me an unexplored aspect of thinking. There's nothing I can do to stop these thoughts. Guess I'll just go along with the winds, hoping for not to be left behind like humans do. Hoping for a better tomorrow. Hoping for love.

[kafkaesque-dweller]

welcome to the hell-site 💃🏻 hope your stay is wonderful lol ✨

I too hope so, we never know what happens next, wishing for a fruitful experience 🙌⚡