He took away the muse. She couldn’t write a single line of
her true emotions. She struggled to hold the pen. The blank page haunted her
day and night. It was turning her crazy. Her thoughts were scattered inside her
head but she couldn’t spill those on a piece of paper. The paper mocked at her
each time she looked at it. Her insides bled like the ink spilled from the pot
she splashed on the paper. She was struggling to find the right words. She
crumpled the paper and kept it alive. The fight with own emotions did not end
here. She was on the verge of insanity.
She put on the headphones and blasted on the music that
brought back ecstasy in her. Music filled her emptiness, her hollowness. She
got a reason to mend her broken heart. Music fixed it. Music became her drug.
The addiction brought back her life to her. It destroyed the parasitic
thoughts. Yes she was high but this was the only way to keep her sane.
The hypnotic music made the words to spill out releasing the
vacuum of emotions. This time the emotions did not come out of her eyes but on
the crumpled paper where she wrote:
Your love,
Ain’t the cure for the broken heart.
Your love,
A poison, kills a
part every day.
Don’t love me,
I ain’t thirsty for it.
Don’t love me,
I ain’t a slave of it. Anymore.
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A while back I mentioned to someone, 'If I don't write, I'll go insane. This void, I realized, if I didn't fill would consume me. That's why I write...' Resonating here in your words.
ReplyDeleteOne morning, I dropped my pen and allowed that void to consume me but that didn't help. I mean I tried to be a thought zombie or something. I'm miserable at it, I cannot stop my mind from thinking. So I delved further into the void and snooped into it. How do I put it... ah.
It is like I felt this void was always there and I assumed it could be filled by someone of a particular type. It was filled with hope and love for a while, and then suddenly things changed and I felt the void grew even larger. Can you see I was shaping my identity based on 'a' relationship.. like that person, that love, defined who I am?
Lately, I started spending a lot of time with myself, I indulged in books, and I started calling my friends, I talked to abstract people.
It was not easy, you know that idea of replacing a void especially when you're the broken in your own story but also the ravager in someone's else. In your words, I'm my own cure and my own poison but it's not improbable, my books, friends, these abstract ones - there is a bit of substance everywhere filling the void. I'm loved by the world in some way, not asking for more.
Duh, am I even making any sense, just wish could write more coherently. But that's that.
That wasn't incoherent at all. The biggest mistake I made was giving up writing and reading with the belief the time I will utilize in making relationships strong. Rather the opposite happened.I had given up things which brought me peace. I I feel ashamed to see the archives of my blog with only 1 article in 365 days.
ReplyDeleteAnd same like you said I cannot make my mind to stop thinking. I had been advised to meditate. I tried all possible ways. I tried the apps, meditating music but the thoughts do not leave me.Therefore I decided, for me meditating is reading a book and writing. Writing still is tough but my reading list is going on as I want, slow and steady.
Yes, it is foolish to expect love only from one source/person.