Aadhil Muneef

I think this is going to be one of my shortest blogs, I really find it weird to put out content with very less reading time. But thinking about this does really put a smile on my face. *smiles in Thanos*.  To really get into this whole story which I am just trying to just drag on right now, we're gonna have to go back to 2010, way before my glory days, I guess. During this time I had changed schools, from a private institution to a government one, because the family was kind of in a pinch. So what I had to do was take the road bus, the school was 18kms away from where I lived, it's not that far, but when you are a kid, with no prior knowledge about how buses work, and have to cross three whole neighborhood cities, it is, I don't feel like it is a lot now, but it kinda was.  So day in and day out riding my bicycle at 6 in the morning taking my sweet little time, getting to the bus halt, and there are these, what do you call it, cycle parks? I don't know what you call it....

Bonds. Bonds, nothing but bonds. To be honest I don't even know what to talk about, I just jumped onto the first thing that came to my head. Writing really feels so nice. Nice isn't the word but "nice" feels so warm, like warm hug after a whole day of crying alone, "nice" feels like a real tea made using Anchor not the fake ass Rathi and Nespray ones, NO HATE bruv. Just stating facts here. As a generation right now, I don't know how we ended up here, but man, honestly, confrontation sucks, I'd rather cut you off than actually, talk it out-deal with it and sort the whole issue and be on my merry little way. I'd rather sit in my room all day long, make shit up in my head, victimize myself than actually confront you and talk to you about it. I don't do that, I like confrontation and hurting myself, but for sake of the argument let's just move forward with it. Because confrontation sucks. I don't know if I should make this personal or not...

Trigger Warning: Suicidal Thoughts, Anxiety, Depression Never in my life had I thought how loud silence could be, how fragile my ego is, how heavy the jabs were on my barren soul and how the most toxic person/thing in my life was my thoughts. Entrapping every good memory, locking it in, not only did I forget the essence of my Being but also the essence of joy. I'd ask myself "how long has been since I had truly been at peace" because for some reason, I've always valued peace more than happiness. Happiness is a hoax, it doesn't truly last no matter what you do. I could be sitting with a buncha people and suddenly, a wave of existential angst would drown me, for a mere a split second, and after that there is no turning back to the perfect day I had. It's ruined. And who's fault is that? Mine. So what happens next, is that the chaos within myself, starts feasting on my soul, telling myself "there's no one around" "no one willing to help...

For the past 22 years of my life all I ever did was run, I kept running forward, well more like marching forward; eyes on the price, with nothing but bones in my closet- scars and unhealed wounds on my back. I never really felt it to be honest. Nothing really weighed me down, the more time went by, the better it was it to ignore. And when the distress is ignored long enough, putting up with the whole "I wanna heal and be better", the whole notion becomes a pipe dream. So as far as I could possibly remember, I never dealt with anything really, didn't wanna confront any of my demons? I never really understood why people tend it call it "demons" but in truth it was myself all along. I was the demon that I needed to defeat to be better, to heal. And my oh my did I think that loving oneself was the something that is easier, maybe it is. I am not really sure. I tend to have my doubts when it comes to "loving myself". For a long long time, I did love myself n...