Monday, November 28, 2016

Fell Asleep Catching Up On Supernatural

Guess who has WiFi? Guess who's still blogging from their phone because they forgot they have WiFi? Yas.

Saturday, November 26, 2016

Farce

Sometimes you look at a picture of a happy couple and all you want to do is yell, "He's cheating on you, you idiot."

Thursday, November 24, 2016

The Fate Butterfly

Walking about in a fugue state, dreaming about boys I can't get and forgetting all about all of the very important things I gotta do.

Sometimes it's like I gotta get to work simply coz I wanna feel like I've gotten something right in a day.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Pinned

When you're depressed and unable to move and your mother's toxic lecturing is just pinning you further down onto the bed.

If telekinesis was a thing, my mental stress would throw her all the way across the world and into Trump.

Sunday, November 6, 2016

Possessed

My mother warned me against coming out as someone that battles mental health issues. She told me people would use it against me, to destroy my credibility and treat me as less of a person.

Little did I know she was talking about herself.

She's the only person who's ever done that.

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Splendrous


I believe the nature of the abusive relationship is such that it can easily become mutually abusive. When you're locked in the cycle of abuse, and you have no way of getting out, the only way to protect yourself becomes to hit back against your abuser. And considering the mentality of the abuser, it is more than probable that normal techniques of hitting back will be no match for their vast and well honed array of emotional, psychological and physical weapons. 

So it is that you use the tools of their abuse against them. You parrot their words and actions back at them. You cause them the exact kind of pain they cause you. And this quickly becomes clear to you when they say to you the same things you're struggling to express to them. The cycle of abuse has then become complete. 

I believe the onus is still on the original abuser, even in these cases. Perhaps a good test of it would be to see whether any party attempts to get out of the cycle by distancing themselves. It's not easy, and it's not always possible, and a person who feels trapped may eventually even become more dangerous than the original abuser. 

In my family, only one person consistently attempts to remove themselves from the situation. Only one person tries to get out. The others seem complacent, Some even seem to feed on it, to enjoy it. I think I can safely say that I am now completely at a loss for what to do. I lack the resources to reliably escape without getting myself into equally bad or worse situations. I lack... 

The only thing I could have done was create a temporary refuge where the abuse couldn't touch me - and that I did, for a while. 

Now my refuge has been destroyed. Completely leveled. Nothing remains. And I no longer have a shield against the cycle of abuse. 

I'd like to take this moment to extent heartfelt gratitude to literally everybody ever, for assuming that my life is like theirs, and for suggesting that I do certain things that make logical sense to people who don't live lives locked in a vicious cycle of abuse. I thank you for making me feel like an overreacting, illogical, unreasonable piece of shit, simply because my reasons don't make sense in your world. 

I don't live in your world, but the only way I can remain sane is by pretending I do. Which means that when it is suggested that I am being an unreasonable, spoiled brat for doing things a certain way, I buy into that. I believe that. I get mad at myself, even as the inner core of my mind calmly states that the decisions taken have been the right ones. I find myself unable to come up with the right vocabulary that will help me communicate to my critics that there's much they don't understand. 

Nor do I believe they will ever understand. Why should they? It's not like it's got anything to do with them?

Sunday, October 30, 2016

How To Know When Not To Do Something


When it makes you physically nauseated at the very thought.

I am running out of band aids.

Every time my family and I have been faced with the undeniable fact that our world is irrevocably broken, and that something drastic needs to be done to fix that, we have found a band aid.

I'm usually the only one who faces this fact in all its ugly reality. The others have their own versions of denial.

Mom Version: "Things are horrible because you guys are saying it's horrible. Things are horrible because they're not being done MY  way. Things are horrible because I wasted my entire life on ungrateful children who won't metaphorically set themselves on fire because I said so. Things will stop being horrible if you listen to me go on and on about how you are the utter scum of the Earth, and if you obediently agree with my views on your being the utter scum of the Earth."

Dad Version: "Things are horrible because my children have failed me and my wife refuses to leave me alone and I am stuck in the middle poor me I've been working my fingers to the bone all my life now I just want to die but my children have failed me."

Brother Version: "Hey, maaan. Just chill out, maaan. Amma and Daddy also have problems, maaan. Maaan, why you gotta tell them about the stuff I do, maaan, they got enough to worry about, maaan, you're only making things worse maaaan. It'll be fine, maaan. Karma, maaaan."

Sister Version: "Peace. Harmony. Guys, everyone stop fighting, please, guys. Peace. Harmony. Conciliation. Mediation. Arbitration. Alternate Dispute Resolution. Guys."

Here's the truth. Our world is broken. I don't mean the larger world. or the global or national or planetary scenarios. I mean us, just us. We're not meant to be. This isn't working out. In fact, it's the world's worst five way abusive relationship, and only one person wants out of it.

I wish I could say, "It's not you, it's me." It's a little bit me, but it's a lot more you.

I wish I could say any number of things. I wish I could give you a lecture on abusive relationships and how we are a textbook case. I wish I could tell you exactly why you shouldn't have said any of that. I wish I could tell you why it horrifies me that all this has driven me to the point where I actually called someone "A whore" and meant it as an insult. I'm sorry, I wasn't in control at that point, it's unforgivable to act like sex work is an insult but I had no control over what was coming out of my mouth.

I wish I could talk about how traumatized I am by the years I spent growing up in your house. Talking about that will horrify pretty much everyone I ever will say it to, because I had a home, clothes, food, games, books, pets.. Because my parents underwent sacrifices getting me these things, because they now feel underappreciated for the things they did..

But it's true. I wish I could explain it better, but it's true. I wish I could tell you, tell everybody about the nights spent curled up on the bathroom floor, screaming silently while my mother yelled taunts at me from outside the bathroom door. About the keys that went missing in the bathrooms so I wouldn't be able to lock myself in, to find a safe place from the constant verbal abuse, the taunts, the stiflingly numbing pain inside my head. About the keys that went missing from the front door - the locked front door - so I wouldn't be able to get out, to run away.

I wish I could talk about the days spent longing for something only to be given a never ending list of chores I had to do before I could have it. No, really, that list NEVER ENDED. Every time I'd complete the things on it, three more would have magically appeared.

I find it easier to talk about the hostel, because the injustice is more tangible, less personal, easier to understand. But even then, I don't think I can ever truly convey the sense of hopelessness and heartbreak and longing, about the nights spent dreaming I was back home, only to be rudely disabused of that notion by breaking dawn.

I can't explain the long years of forced sleep deprivation, the fact that my knees are now ruined by the long standing punishment of being forced to kneel and pray for every tiny infraction - including the slightest perceived disrespect to the maternal figure. Regardless of time or place.

Next time you're out and about, try kneeling on the public road. Go on, give it a whirl.

Of being scared to show that you like something - anything. A nice top, a website, a girl you're friends with, a movie you want to watch, Harry Potter.. Journaling, reading, writing poetry, being alone.. Because if you betray that you truly like something, you will have it either denied indefinitely ("you can't have it until you no longer want it" - actual quote) or taken away, desecrated, destroyed.

Anything important to you, anything you create - be it a story, a diary, a friendship, a new hobby, money or a movie or something you worked hard to earn.. It must be taken away, it must be ruined, it must be desecrated, it must be destroyed.

I mean, how dare you anyway?

I got a house I really loved. I got it all by myself, it's all me. After having brow beaten me into shifting for months, she's finally getting her way.

I got a job I love. I got it all by myself, it's all me. She thinks it's dirty, she thinks the house is dirty, anything I get that's all me is "dirty." She said I should quit that job, she's currently working on getting me to quit that job.

I got an ice cream today, I'd been craving one all day, I had to borrow money from her to get it.

She didn't say she wanted one, even though I told her I was going to get ice cream. It's such a small cone, not enough to share. She takes big, huge bites on purpose, takes all the good parts out of the ice cream in one bite, and I don't like sharing.

She came and threw a tantrum because she wanted the ice cream. I said no, and she attempted to blow her nose onto it.

I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

When will people get it? When will they understand? When I finally bought some food I'd been craving, I shut and locked the door so she wouldn't come and blow her nose on it. Then I remembered the two cans of diet coke sitting on the kitchen counter and went out again to bring them back into the room because she's poured out three cans of my soda in one go before, just coz I didn't ask her permission before buying them.

Dad called and asked me how I could treat another person like this, all because I shut the door.

IT'S BECAUSE THEY BLOW MUCUS ONTO MY FOOD, DAD.

I wish I could say all this, but none of them hear the words that come out of my mouth. They don't hear me. I might as well not exist. In fact, it would be more convenient if I didn't exist, even as they go about setting up meetings with the Vice Chancellor of a college I no longer attend. Even as they give priority to ALL the reasons that have NOTHING to do with me, while looking for a flat for me to stay in.

They want to live my life, they're living in it right now, they're taking over like the most god-awful cancer in the fucking world. What the fuck do I need to be here for? 

Friday, October 28, 2016

Global Nightmares


I'm choking. Suffocating. Falling in this weird slow motion way so my fingers are still typing at ground level but the rest of me is already a long, long way down somewhere.

Global warming is ruining the bloody world, which is a good reason for me never to have children who'd be subjected to that kinda life. It's hot. It's... just... stiflingly hot. IN WINTER.

Oh, that's right. It's fucking November, ain't it now?

I feel like I'm yelling into a vacuum. No one hears me, and the very air's sucked right out of my throat.

Now that it's dark out, the weather's come down to something equable, and it will proceed to freezing levels before it turns back into a baking oven during daylight hours.

But, please. continue to deny global warming. Sounds like a bloody plan.

My head is not in the game. Any game.

Mum's on her way. You know what that means, right? It means it's time to drop dead from sheer depression. That's literally how I feel, like I could be alive and typing one moment, and just... not here the next.

Ah, best laid plans.

God, if you saw the houses I saw today..

And they're apparently in HIGH DEMAND Jesus Christ I don't even WANT to know what the houses that AREN'T in demand are LIKE!

One of them has rooms that are half the size of my current room. Smaller than the hostel rooms I've had, TBH.

The other has a bigger room, a tiny attached bath, and HUGE ASS fucking double bed RIGHT IN THE FUCKING MIDDLE,

And it's a three BHK it's so goddamn crowded, oh, God.

And it's in high demand, oh, Christ, this is the worst, really.

No, okay, you know what, forget I said that because I do not want to find out how this can get worse. 

Rolling Up


Long time, no write.

In the past two months, I have had 0 Saturdays off. Zero. So I was very much looking forward to a four day long weekend this time, and..

In the past week, I've:

a) had my lease terminated by my dumbass flatmate who doesn't seem to know or care how contracts work as long as she is not inconvenienced.

b) done terrible work and been given a bad personal feedback (that was today, and the guy was nice enough to personally mention it to me - it was so bad he had to make a list of all the things I did wrong)

c) had to set about finding an apartment in a locality I truly detest (Close to work)

d) been disappointed with my findings in said locality

e) had the new landlady walk into my apartment while I wasn't there because she is apparently and doesn't know how to read the contract that says she's not supposed to do so.

f) been constantly badgered and harassed over going back to NLS - something I've sworn over and over that I will not do.

g) left work consistently by 10 or 11 30

I am so fucking done. I'm just..

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Lava Sleep

When you're slowly bringing yourself to a boil over the various things simmering inside your head.

When the conversations you're trying to have don't go anywhere because the people on the other side of them keep blinking out like little green dots on a screen, one by one.

When every new incomprehensible word you encounter feels like a new mallet hitting the inside of your skull.

When auto correct keeps making you do the same word. Over. And over. Again.

When your internet's off and it isn't coming back on again. When you've been lied to so many times now, that you just don't care anymore. Don't care if it's a lie. Don't care if it's the truth. Gimme what I want. I want what I want. Give it to me.

When you're doing something wrong and you should tell other people coz they gotta know... but they can't see, can't see the other side, can't see what you're up against..

When you're so angry you want to be smashing skulls in a professional capacity. After all, you are looking for a second job.

When the anger runs circles inside your head. And it feels like you're swimming in quicksand. When your meds are far, far out of reach, and you know, you know it's only gonna get worse.

The frustration is only peaking. Either which way, I mean.. you could see, or you might not, but there's still only a forbiddingly closed door behind those  curtains.

And the sleep is back, the sleep is back. Always, always the sleep comes back during the day.