I wrote a letter to myself

It's been eight months since my last blog. It's been a series of catastrophic events filled with regression and anxiety. It's been around 240 days of constant paranoia, fear, overthinking and at last, it's been a few moments of peace coming to this point. When it comes to writing, typically, it's pretty simple; I open my laptop and start typing without pre-fixing a topic or an already drawn conclusion. Sometimes, I write stories that are inspired by a book I read or a movie I watched or a place I went. Most times, I don't even have to gather my thoughts before just diving right into it. But like I said, it's been eight months since you guys applauded me for taking you to an altering space with crips words and crunchy phrases.

Many of my blogs are based on what I experience as a human every day in this life. Like, the last couple of blogs were annoyingly talking about how hard I was finding the "work from home" transition because of the global pandemic. How suffocating it was to not get enough of my space and be face-fisted with mind-numbingly frustrating togetherness of people 24X7 just because I was all alone. It was a hard time, and it came with many unprecedented changes that I took quite a long time to adapt to; let's not even get into the quality of drama it produced. On top of that, as if this wasn't enough, there was a fuckload of another shit that drowned me in the pool of darkness and emptiness, eating up what little bit of empathy I had for myself. Paid a massive chunk of mental stability for desperation, trust, and blind but life-long deep friendships. This depth devoured my heart & mind like a freshly turned zombie and made me realise how ethereal my mental health is.

It's not easy, watching yourself slide into this tempting black hole of nothingness where you just keep staring in zero and escape your feelings forever. Surrendering to it feels like the only option you have, and without catching a single breath, you dive deep with wishing to never return. Locking yourself in the chest and throwing the key for no one to find it. But there, in that darkness, you feel at peace, and I assure you, nothing is terrifying than the peace you find in obscurity. No, I wasn't insomniac. I was sleeping regularly yet I used to wake up with puffy eyes. It's like that sleep paralysis thing; your mind is wide awake while your body is sound asleep. It's like there's a fire around you and your brain is telling you to move but you can't as your body slumbers. Your thoughts are running wild in your mind whilst you lay asleep in your bed. Paralyzed by your own inferno.

And yes, it was these moments only that showed me how much I do love myself and that compassion for my own soul was the only thing that could break me free from my dark horror self. Every purgatory has its sides; one that plunges you and one that rejuvenates you. All it takes to look at the bright side is the incredible amount of insanity and strength to rise again. It showed me what prioritising a wrong person and giving everything you have to that wrong person could do to you. It breaks you into infinite shattered pieces that it's almost impossible to stitch back again. This mercy that we don't show ourselves is an impeccable huntress of our emotions. It makes you question, is it really worth it, living by someone's choices and suffering when none of them fits you? Is it wise to find yourself insignificant over this toxic power that the other person is exerting on you? Isn't it foolish to make your life all about someone and nothing about you?

My heart started pounding, and all I could hear was NO! My conscious, who was dead by now, suddenly woke up and started yelling what an absolute blunder I have been over an incorrectly placed soul in my life. It was empowering seeing myself like that. This pursuit of coming to my senses was alarming. There was only so much that I could take. It was enlightening; making someone your everything, how ridiculous it is to put that kind of pressure on someone when in fact, the one person that can handle it, is no one but you. This epiphany liberated me from the toxicity of unrealistic expectations that we are so adamant about, unrequited feelings that we pathetically cling to, and incessantly feeling that you're just not enough.

You think I went through a bad breakup, don't you? Well, I didn't. If there is one thing in the world that is powerful than love, it's trust. It is the classic case of back-stabbing, betrayed by the people who once meant the world to me. Why does it take your closest friends to show you what an enormously innocent fool you are? Why can't it be strangers changing your life by pissing on you than the people you actually care about? Suddenly, everything started making sense, and all of this happened only to show me that it is only you that matters and everything else is just temporary. I am the source of my happiness and inspiration, and no one can take this away from me. Funny, I always used to think peace is something everyone has to go to seek out, from someone or someplace. My peace is built within me; it doesn't come from people or places. There was only one thing that I needed to do to overcome this endless despair; not give a fuck. And I did that horrendously. I gave zero fucks to me and all to people. Obviously, it is the other way around.

I could see myself grow and change and become a healthy person (mentally speaking). But you know what made me realise it more? A couple of days ago, one of the people I had placed falsely in my life said, you look better, you sound better, and you are almost a nice person. These are the remarks of my growth. And you know why? Because I pulled away from this person for whom I almost lost my mind. I grew distant; I grew apart because it simply is not worth my attention, energy, love and, more importantly, my peace. This is the person I can't dodge, and this is the person who doesn't affect me a single bit now. Only by absolutely giving no fucks you can truly be happy from within. And I can't express how revealing and uplifting it feels, I can't put it into words, but it does feel like being born all over again.

So yeah, it has been eight months, approx. 240 days and countless hours for me to reach here, talk about this, and all I would tell you is this.

Hope is a thing with feathers, and only you are its destined aviator!