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Broken, Yet breathing

There are days when I don’t want to wake up. Don’t want to open my eyes to the empty chairs and the silent air. Don’t want to lose the dream woven by the myriad memories that never were. Don’t want to feel the heaviness again, the restlessness again, the pain again.
I imagine stories to tamper with those memories. I create situations that there never were. I lie to myself, again, and again, and again, and again, to create these illusions that are just perfect.
If they were my reality, I wouldn’t have tasted pain. If they were my reality, I wouldn’t have known the power of my words. If they were my reality, I’d have been happy to get lost in that shell— that warm & comfortable space where efforts die a quick death and stagnation is hasty to creep in. Yet as I squeeze my eyelids shut and pray for the darkness to wallow up again, I wonder if everything else came at the cost of these memories.
The pain has now become the fuel that drives me. The rage has morphed into an insatiable hunger to achieve things. As I stare at a blank page reeling from the hurt inflicted by those horrid memories, I find that restlessness yet again. I feel my lips quivering, I see my fingers trembling; itching to make the paper bleed with the pain in my ink.
I deliberately push myself, exploring this mind palace to hunt down those memories. I pick them out and re-live them, over and over and over again. I subject myself to that old pain. I embrace the hurt to find my voice. I refuse to reason, to subject myself to these raw memories because it is the agony and the tragedy of those moments that now probably define me.
Ponder on it, it is funny. Some people spend an entire lifetime to look for the one push that would drive them to create things.


                                                  

And some are just trying to run away from it, hiding a terrible pain in those memories as they smile through their teeth; hoping, praying, no one would look into their eyes to see who they really are.

                                                  

Broken, yet breathing

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