Burdened bones

I write this with a heavy heart, maybe not as heavy as it used to be, still heavy in so many unfathomable ways. I see purpose in writing this, at least I guess I do. I am not quite sure. Neither am I confused. In truth I am perfectly in touch will all of my emotions, every single one. This is a pat in the back in a nonchalant sorta way. Never did realize how deep a five minute thought process would be, the depth of grief, the insanity behind the concept of reliability on oneself and others. The morality behind the sacred intimacy, the abandoning, the slut awakening, the hardening of a cotton candy heart and the tiredness of my soul. I feel like exhaustion would suit the theme more. So, my exhausted soul. In all honesty, this whole feature is going to be a whole rant. More like speaking everything into existence--NO, writing everything into existence whilst constantly constantly talking to myself about a mirage of emotions, that is real. Real in so many unspoken ways. Sigh. 

I guess I will start off with my morning routine for the past week. How no amount of sleep, felt enough in ways, maybe, I did know what was going on, I guess I didn't want to admit to myself. If I do admit things to myself. It becomes real, when things are real, it is scary, when it is scary, it gives me anxiety. I don't want that. Not at all. Not one bit. So, I kept resting more and more and more. Hoping that I'd stop feeling so damn tired all day long, in the end I had to admit to myself that something was going on, and I could feel the exhaustion in my bones and every fiber of my being. My soul was spent. Because the amount of sheer effort I needed to get myself out of bed every single morning was horrifying in so many unimaginable ways for me. I am not used to being so tired at all, I had submissions coming up by the end of November. So, I contemplated. The battle within us, we're all so familiar with--"My mental health or my education". I guess I chose both. And found a way to take it slow and hold onto my sanity so that it doesn't fragment. 

So going back to waking up in the morning. I-uh, pray Fajr (early morning prayers) and hit the hay, because that is all I want to do. Then wake up around 8 in the morning, so I could start studying. Saturday morning I couldn't get off of bed for at least three hours, Sunday two hours, Monday two hours, Tuesday and today which is Wednesday ninety minutes. It has been improving at a steady rate. It's not enough not one bit, but after watching this clip of Pete Davidson on Twitter, about how he had to program himself just to get out of bed every single morning, I guess I got some clarity from that and have been adopting this routine, hence the gradual decrease in the time taken to get myself out of bed and get myself to do simple tasks. It's quite sad. Never did I imagine a future where I'd struggle to get simple things done. Okay wrong.. IT IS NOT THAT SIMPLE AT ALL. So I've been telling myself, "wake up if you don't wanna die alone" which is funny and depressing at the same time. I'd sit out in the sun for like ten minutes and get some warm up work out done and go have a shower, and start my day. Also breakfast is overrated. 

For as long as I've known, I have been longing for intimacy. YES. Intimacy in ways. But the closer I get to it. When it is within, my grasp, it's not how I quite pictured, it would be. It's not the same, and the standards I've set, reject any and every form of affection thrown, let's say directed my way. I am not confused by this, in fact I do know, what I want, but in certain ways. It almost feels, hypocritical. Because I am denying myself the emotion, denying myself the right to feel. It is not what I want, I am so sure of it. But then why does it have to hurt so much? So this is me coming to terms with this, I'll try to articulate the reason I gave myself. No amount of temporary feelings is going to make up for what you really need in life, when you are focused and hellbent on getting to a certain point, you do happen to stumble upon breathtaking amazing people. Not all of them are there for this whole journey and that is okay. You just have to come to terms with yourself that, we're a collection of moments and memories we've made, we're all the accumulated experiences and even if you hadn't met one person, you wouldn't be the same as you are right now. What matters is they made you feel good about yourself and life. That shit will outlast your existence and that is what truly matters.

Moving onto the final parts of this feature, I wanna leave out some stuff, but this is my safe space and I have to be honest with myself and let's head into it.

So, I have been getting a little bit of exposure on twitter, which is an increase in 20 followers. I didn't feel like a celebrity though, maybe because I have always felt like one. Who's to say. Honestly, I have been getting so much attention my fragile ego is so inflated, that it is gonna burst. It feels so good to be appreciated for so many things I'd rather not disclose. Can't believe I was deprived of this feeling my whole life. God damn!! It feels good. Good is the exact word I want to use. That is exactly how I feel. I also want to establish the fact the my heart isn't as heavy now, compared to when I started writing this. I have been at it for forty minutes, stretching out a five minute thought process. It really feels good to write and let it out. The more attention I got, the more I wanted it, after I have been deprived it for so long, it's only natural. The realization soon turned into a nightmare. The self hating voiced itself and said "you attention seeking whore" "you disgusting slut" and to be honest, I genuinely did feel like a whore, it felt good and yet I was disgusted by myself for wanting for more. I really am having a hard time convincing myself, that it is okay to long for affection, attention and warmth. And the fact I feel disgusted by it was because I was deprived from it for so long. And it perfectly is alright to want attention, fish for compliments and uh ask people to repeat themselves when they point out something good about you. It is okay. I deserve to feel all that, I owe it to myself to feel good about myself. If I can't make myself feel good about myself I do think it is perfectly alright to rely on people to make me feel good about myself until I gradually reach to a point or pinnacle of self love.

Finally protecting my cotton candy heart. For someone who couldn't and didn't cry for years on end, I have been crying every single day since the third week of January 2021. It is more like a ritual for me at this point, maybe my way of rebelling against this world and not letting the darkness that once consumed me, consume me again. Crying everyday has changed me so much as a person, I have actually learnt to let go all of hate and anger and everything else I'd rather not say. By letting it all out every single day, not holding it in. I am actually able to thrive and stay calm and be less impulsive. Once words go out, there's no flippin' way you could push it down your throat. I mean this is what it's like for me, to stay soft is to let it all out and not hold it in. No matter how burdened my bones are.