I just read a friend's blog ans somehow it bears this uncanny resemblance to mine..
There is one line from there that stays in my mind.. "when life seems like an endless song.."
Guess thats just the phrase i have been looking for for so long... just the phrase that describes the inner turmoil i have been battling with.
I do not know what am doing
I do not know why am doing
I do know i need to get over this
I do not know how
I do know the answer is within me somewhere
I do not know where
Writing is my means of escapism i guess. I have always used it to know myself better. My blog is my gift to me. I hate it when i cant put together the vastness of my thoughts. I hate it when poetry seems like a distant dream. I hate the fact that my vocabulary hasnt had any addtion for the past year or so. I hate the fact that i have run out of adjectives. I have to force myself to be descriptive.
Its like i have an interrupted flow of thought. It feels like i think in words or maybe phrases but not sentences anymore. Surprisingly enough, it seems like the only poetry i can come up with contain nothing but romantic inclinations.
Am in this state of complete inactivity. Even my thought process seems to be all messed up (see "messed up" was the best term i could come up with)
The strangest thing being i have even lost my satirical style of wiritng...the sarcasm sprinkled with subtle humour that i was so proud of.
My usual post on this very subject would have been an extremely sarcastic one bodering on generalizing the exhausting daily routines of the young that have affected greatly their not only their thought process but also deprived them of a decent vocab.
I have lost that
I have lost myself
I feel weird
I feel suffocated
I feel held
I also feel let loose
Too loose..
Contradiction of thoughts
I do not know what i feel more
I feel plain numb.
I am far away
far far
let loose
too far for your voice to reach me
I see your lips move
But i hear not what u say
I smile
and drift further away
The chains that bind me from the other side
pull me
so thats why i feel suffocated and held
but am loose
i cant hear you
but something else holds me
and i know not what it is.
And in all of this, i lose my soul
Was this just one my recent lame attempts at poetry?
I cant write anymore.... i cant think straight and i do almost nothing..
Do i care about anything else more than inflated ego?
Do i lack self respect?
Will I drown in self pity?
Will I be just another without substance?
Do i have any purpose of existence?
If i cease to exist today, can i say i have led a "purposeful" life
If i cease to exist today, what would cease with me?
I search around for the answers to these questions
Although i know the answers are within me
Irony never leaves me i guess
~Riddhi~
18 Sept 07
12 11 pm.
