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Talking to the depressed you (Long read)

I was just crying ‘normally’ and I thought maybe I should write something right now and I didn’t know how to start or continue, ending is easy, isn’t it? Stopping is easy. Turning back is easy, isn’t it?

It just comes to me how what I’m seeing is just so different from what my eyes are watching, how what I’m hearing with my ears are not what I’m listening to sitting here wondering how life works in almost eight billion different ways on Earth. I’m not feeling what my body is feeling on the skins that are more like wrappers of my once-upon-a-time-favorite gift.


I may have not eaten today but there’s a taste that’s been on my tongue for quite some time now. I have been smelling things that don’t even have any smell, or maybe they do, but whatever. I’m just here to tap tap tap my fingers on my Mac, honestly almost non stop, it’s just getting very random now, I don’t wanna stop pressing the keys of the keyboard, it feels a little like music, almost in tempo.


There are things people are feeling on a daily basis, no, hourly basis, some second-ly basis, different things, different feelings, raw, mixed, filtered, light and dark. Feelings. More like coffee, yeah some are taking 10 shots of espresso every morning when they’re waking up. Can you imagine? I’m sorry if you can, it’ll be alright, we’re all here right? 10 shots of feelings, 7 times a day? Too much?

Not once one is immune. What next? God forbid addiction to feel these feelings, just starting to soothe you, somewhere inside.

What happens then? Where am I? How long has it been? It’s just a little blurry and I misplaced my lens just yesterday, or the day before, see? It’s all getting messed up, even memories are getting blurry, now what?


I’m getting out of things to write, probably because I haven’t stopped playing with the keys and It’s been minutes, honestly no idea how many. But it does feel less anxious when I’m doing this. Is it hard to share? Is it hard to get some things out? Some? A line from a book? A drop of tears from the ocean of heartbreak behind your eyes, or inside your heart. How hard can it get? How hard will it be, for me to tell you what’s happening? To people, not me, maybe?Are you also one of them? ‘Suffering’ as if it’s just normal? Fuck no! How bad is this world, how weird is this universe, how lame can it be?

Are you the one?

The person I was talking about, initially?


You see storms right in front of your eyes, and as you blink you see space, you see hurricanes taking lives of people, the volcano before it erupts, see the endless sky, while your eyes have just been watching a bird drink water through the window all this time? How long has it been? You traveled to the impossible places and saw so much while your eyes they could just stare, lost.

You’re listening to the whispers of the past, aren’t you?

You’re listening to songs, from the ghost who you’re in a toxic relationship with, not trying to get rid of, or not being able to? You listen to the sound of your favorite E minor 7 chord, you can hear each note but aren’t you sitting in a closed room trying to make something out of the silence they’ve left you with.


You’re feeling two things at once,

You’re skin is feeling cold, the next moment warm, but your heart is feeling separation, next moment toxicity. Your skin is just feeling the wind that’s passing by, why does your heart feel restless, tired next minute? Why are you feeling left out?

But your skin is feeling soft, why are you feeling torn when your skin is in one piece. Except for that part of your arm you cut last night, I know it was just a mistake, your hands slipped, it’s okay but please take care now onwards, I am here and so are you. Where are we going? To where we belong.


Why is it so, that you can still taste the first bite of samosa you shared in school, you haven’t had samosa in months now, why do you taste love and why doesn’t it taste good anymore, what happened to the recipe? You haven’t had dark chocolate in a very long time, then what is this bittersweet taste, where is it coming from and why does it taste like memories? Why can you taste solitude as if it’s always at the tip of your tongue? Why can you taste fear, Why are you scared of falling? You taste darkness and nothingness so much now, why do you still sleep with your lights on?


Where are you getting this smell from, smell that smells like rotten love, like love that somebody forgot to take along with time passing by? Your nose can only smell the smell of Bhagwat Geeta that you’re carrying, trying to read and get through this maze, then what is this part of your body, that is smelling the rain from the night you first made love? What is this organ in your body that can still smell the flowers somebody got you on your birthday, they died the next week and it’s been years, now. Why can you still smell blood, of the love that you murdered? If it was true, why did you kill it, and if you did, why do you regret?


There’s time that’s running, world that’s spinning, dreams, that are calling, your name, go walking, running, falling, climb up to it, leave the past behind, there’s no proof of the past, there’s no guarantee of the future, why would you regret when you’re standing in this moment, the moment that is real, truly real, you have this moment, to you, make it for you.


You are here, a part of this universe,


You don’t even know how many other planets are out there sustaining life,


Do you see? You’re THE one.


If it’s clear, that happiness is good, and sadness is not. Why must it be normal for you to feel sad?

You are alone but so are we, everyone.

What is it worth? The little time we are getting? It’s like we are sent for a demo. Imagine, The world’s been spinning for millions of years now, you come, you go, the world is still gonna spin for millions of years ahead, who’s gonna be there then? Who’s gonna still care? About this pain, you’re carrying around? THROW IT.


This guy is saying it as if it’s so easy!


I am sorry but I am not sorry for begging of you to THROW IT.

THROW IT,

in parts,

slowly,

all at once,

everything is up to you,

but START.



#modernart #technique

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