• say_me_krish 6w

    Disclaimer: Contains sensitive information. Read at your own risk.
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    A LETTER ✉

    To,
    The one who is
    genuinely loved.

    Dec 14, 2020

    Dear REAL,
    My body is burning when I'm sitting here to write out this. I don't know why (You can keep a count of the words don't know, feel, strange, lonely; just in case). Life is a hard mess, and there aren't visible threads which lead to a path of clarity. Life to me was pretty strange, or if I were weird for the existence of life, is a myth. And myths aren't meant to be resolved, but are meant to be talked about over and over in the path of searching a solution without knowing that at the end, death is everyone's destination. But the journey can still be different, through different paths, in different perspectives. The sentences I'm writing might feel irrelevant to each other, but read it again darling, it makes sense when you vanish from my shadows and reach my heart. It is just a movement of mere 90 degrees, and I want you, at least you, to understand that I exist, I want to, and I do not want to.

    Sometimes, I feel so lonely in a wedding function of a thousand people, and I don't know why. I pretend that I've puked out the heavy meals and sleep in a corner with some whispers which aren't about me. I feel that nobody can understand what I'm going through, and I don't dare to test anyone. I definitely wouldn't portray myself and you to be feeble and fragile. I'm just too alone in this world, where all I can talk to is my pillow, pen and music. I talk to people so well, they talk to me well too, but there mumbles a gut feeling of sadness when I realize that they aren't loving me as much as I do, and I don't know if it's true. My thought runs so complicated that I cannot understand myself at times. The world has 7 people who look similar to me, and yet doesn't have one to explain and elucidate me with what's going on around me. I'm too surprised with how people are so good at pretending, I'm too shocked at how some people always stay happy, I'm too confused with the difference between winter and fall, and my mind is sprinting towards strange thoughts.

    I wonder what if condoms get a life, would they bellow or be filled with lust themselves. What if arteries and veins were meant to be entwined instead of a sexual intercourse? Why is this very normal thing feels embarrassed to be spoken upon, and why I myself feel peculiar to make some jokes upon? I think of whether people are flashing their looks at me since I walk strangely. I want to fall from the terrace and see how it feels, and check upon who bring flowers and greetings, and who actually cry. I also think if I can dissect my own mind and find some answer to my existence, whether I was an accident or an intention. My mind is just so very complex. I feel sad that everyone calls me cute but not handsome. Strange again. I get angry over a man who shouts on his son on the road, and I say to myself that he's poor in parenting and that he was a son of short temper. I feel Empathetic for a depressed person , but I feel scared and angry for no reason upon them. I wonder what if I was handicapped, and I think of dying the very next moment. I think my life is the worst, and I think some existences come with 'worst' in their melanin. I don't even know if I'm completely happy or depressed, and I don't know why I'm living right now. Why are you meant to live with such a mad? Why?

    I hate people who are pretentious, but I remember that I've lied to my mother at times. I hate people who wear a facade, and I'm the one who forcefully curves his lips up when someone waves at me. I want some nice person to talk to me, bring the problem out of me, and nobody in this universe cares for this atomic structure. Do you? I feel like crying when somebody doubts me and my honesty. It feels like I'm caged in a vacuum. I don't believe in love at young age, I believe it's just attraction towards somebody's thoughts and physique, and I wonder if it is the problem of the age or the mind. I am not sure. I wonder what it feels like to love somebody, to share your lips and melt with the other's, and how it feels to be loved. I feel numb. Do you understand?

    I recently read "All the bright places" once, and I'm reading it again, and my artificial bookmark lies in page 201. I wondered what if Finch would have actually lived. If I had met him, he would've definitely understood me. I could've blocked the Blue Hole for him, maybe. He was right in dying, but he was wrong for not speaking to Violet. Violet was a whole mess of a mistake at the end, let us forget Ma'am Markey. His death brought me a feeling of death for myself. I felt like a breathing carcass who is shedding his sadness ou of waters. I'm just Perplexed with how the world is, and I don't know why I'm living. I. Don't. Know. I'm in a quicksand and I'm panicking, if you know what I mean.

    I just have even tried to die and withdrew my feelings many times, it sounded so stupid. I've made unsuccessful deaths by holding my breath, mixing two soaps in water and swallowing it, trying to look down from a tall building, pricking my hand by my compass etc,. I want to find a way for a perfect life. A life where someone believes me when I say I get good marks out of fortune, a life where I can find my Personal legend, a life where I can find some stardust for myself, a life where I matter for someone in this cosmos, a life where I can write good. A. Life. Where. I. Can. Live. Knowing. The. Reason. Of. Living.
    I don't have a bipolar disorder, just shut up, if you were to say that. They're just "labels", go read the book. I don't need treatment and physicians, I need some solicitude, and some love.

    I just want something, some happiness I wish too. I want my strange feelings to disappear. Bring a painkiller, a fire extinguisher and an oxygen tank to make me feel better, and a poisoned knife, some hallucinations, and a sleeping pill box just in case I don't like to love myself. I know you aren't bringing the last three things. But still, I wanted to say. I like to be myself with you. You understand? Write a letter soon. Come to me and define my existence.

    From,
    the-might-die-anytime.

    ~S r i K r i s h n a P S
    ___________________________________________________

    Sorry for the boring read, if you made it till here.
    I'M ALRIGHT, OKAY? ��
    @writersnetwork #poemtomec #skp_writes #skp_letters
    @writersbay Poem was tough, sorry ��

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