Bliss.

Bliss.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Melancholic Reveries.

I know, I shouldn't resort to such frequent blogging but maybe I just need to vent and I've always issued the statutory warning that I tend to rant, ramble, crib, criticize and wallow in unregulated moodiness.

When the pain starts, it doesn't announce itself and knock at the doors of your heart. It doesn't seek your permission and be the polite guest, It doesn't bother with such niceties. It comes like the whirlwind that uproots houses from their firm foundations, it barges through your defenses when you're least expecting it to and pierces you with the intensity that leaves you grasping for breath. The pain saps you of all the thoughts you fill yourself up with in the hope of finding happiness. The pain manifests itself as your Achilles heel; as the memories that leave you in despair, at the events that refuse to fade away from your mind, as the little things that once made you mad with joy but now leave you tearful at the mere thought of them, as the gestures that brightened your day once upon a time, as the smallest things that once meant the world to you, as the nostalgia of what is lost forever, as the castles you'd built in the air that have now crumbled into nothingness, as the little bit of infinity you had hoped to have, as the reality what exists, the miracles that may never materialize and as the Happy Ending that is never meant to be.

What could be more painful than that? I'll tell you, it's the task of masking your pain with layers and layers of paint, gloss and glitter, to feel a happiness that is not yours, to feel the happiness of another person when all you feel is hollow and empty, to share that happiness that proceeds to drain you, leaving you like a withered plant. Is it so easy to watch as you give up on what could have been, what should have been and what might have been? Is it so easy to fake what you do not feel? But the one affected most is the one pretending to feel something they do not. It's toxic to nobody but themselves. It leaves you pondering as to who you really are, why is it that you choose to put up the facade when you can embrace what you really feel and voice your opinion. To watch the smile of another, you will often have to shed that silent tear. A silent, lonely tear that shall dry upon your cheek with not a soul to bother about its existence. You learn to watch and teach yourself to be happy for others, you tell yourself not to be selfish, you convince yourself that you shouldn't covet what isn't yours and you master the nuances of concealing your pain. 

Sometimes, it may help to pretend like it doesn't affect you. It is wishful thinking to imagine that the arrows aimed to stab you can make no injury, the barbs aimed at you leave no imprint, and to be honest, that probably works for a while. But suddenly, you can't take it anymore, it crashes upon you, wave upon wave, each with increasing intensity,each inducing the pain you had tried to ignore, until you realize you're drowning.

The worst thing about the pain is the memories. What can be more awful than the fact that the memories that you cherished once are now nightmares? Reminiscing about the moments that once enlivened your spirit now induces a dull aching sensation, worse still, is to confront the factors causing the pain with happiness and joy when all you feel is emptiness. 

You teach yourself to grow stronger, focus on bigger things and live life with more meaning. You tell yourself to steer clear of the thoughts that haunt you, you bury yourself in the things that make you happy, you decide to immerse yourself in the midst of people to forget what you really feel, you let music incite a numbness towards the pain, you adopt a cynical approach to ridicule the things that once mattered to you, you decide that your priorities are something else after all, you convince yourself that your responsibilities weigh heavily upon your shoulders and you shake yourself back into your senses... Until the next time the pain decides to visit you, that is.

Those days were idyllic and perfect,
The memories are pristine and well kept.
The past that was once flawed seems perfect,
As the nostalgia approaches, in the fond memories, I wept.

Every word, every phrase is etched in me,
But it hurts because you'll never bother to see.
Those days were the best but I realized too late,
But it hurts because to you, I was merely a bait.

I learn to smile despite the tears that threaten at the brim of my eyes,
But it hurts because you're deaf to the silent cries.
I decide bravely that it doesn't matter anymore,
But I realize it isn't the easiest chore,
To forget and move on,
To have hope and dream on.

But a day shall surely arrive,
When I shall succeed and strive.
And these memories will mean nothing
But an ugly scar in a beautiful movie called my life. 

Currently addicted to:
  • The Heart Wants What It Wants: Selena Gomez (I don't like the fact that she cries in the beginning though)
  • Welcome To New York: Taylor Swift
It's ABOUT time I start off on some caffeine. Coffee probably induces a sense of purpose in my system. Coffee makes my life more meaningful, definitive and productive. Or maybe I'm just mildly addicted to its stimulating effects.

A Pharmacology test is approaching and it's about time I stop reading about neuroleptics and their mode of action and the scary number of side effects they can cause and read what we might be questioned on, that is Pharmacodynamics and Pharmacokinetics. It's becoming alarmingly evident that I'll have to constantly keep revising the basics that we read in first year to gain a better grasp of what we're learning presently.

Adios, friends. I'll probably be back sooner than you'd like (If I can't resist the urge to blog, that is)