Taking it in

Sometimes I feel like I’m in an imagination
As if life is too unreal to be true
Like my dreams will never come to fruition
That it’s all in my mind

But then I learn to breathe
I’m taking in too much
I’m tired
I need rest
There will be times when you question yourself
Everyone else seems to get the hang of life
Why am I so backward?
I see everyone moving ahead
I’m still stagnant
It’s too much to take in

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Afraid of the dark

Alice was in her house. She was all alone in the dark. She is usually afraid of the dark. Terrified. But this night she turned the TV on and sat calmly on the sofa reading her engrossing book about travel and tourism. She always wanted to travel but she never had enough money. So, she’s been stuck in the same city for all her life. She is 35 and all these years she’s never travelled outside of her country. She has been to some cities in the same country but never outside. That disappoints her but at least she can read it in the books to see how the cities she’s never been to are expressed. She can imagine. Imagination doesn’t die and maybe some day she will travel.

This night was different. She didn’t feel afraid of the dark. But there were tubelights in her house and the bulb was burning bright. She didn’t want to turn off the light to sleep. The tragedy of living alone without a husband was she had to endure the dark which she didn’t like. But she felt better than other days today. She felt like she could face her fears with darkness. She can drive away the demons.

ALice went to sleep turning the lights off. She didn’t feel scared. She had the best sleep she’s ever had.

Lonely

Suddenly I couldn’t feel anything. I was numb. It was a result of years and years of deprivation. Freedom. Independence. I’ve lost interest in things. Something I used to enjoy a few weeks ago feels dry at the moment. It’s all nothing. Useless. I am in a world which does not exist. I have to meet the expectations of people around me; my own expectation. And they feel too heavy. Too much to do, too much to read, too much to write. I feel the strain. I drink a glass of wine, it doesn’t really have an effect. It’s still too much for me. I dont feel like exercising or going to the gym. I don’t know why. I’m trying to find out why I don’t feel like exercising is a normal routine anymore. I feel bored when I do it in the gym. I feel bored walking in the park all by myself. I want some company. I want someone to be with me. I’m lonely. You can probably see it deep down in my eyes, deep in my soul. I’m lonely. I feel like no one truly cares for me. Everyone who is supposed to care for me either tries to manipulate their own ideals on me or expect me to act in a certain way which is not me. They don’t understand me. I want to be understood. To be loved for who I am. Not for what the society seems fit and for all the expectations they set on me. It’s too much to bear. The same old thing repeating again and again. There is no purpose to life. Just a bullshit.