Me, Myself and Insanity

Dreams that are the inspiration and the source of afflatus in our lives. We live to attain these dreams and we live in the hopes that we may some day revel in our very dreams. Such a drive this spurs within our souls and such a hope that it stirs within our hearts. What is an entity without dreams? Void of spirit, ambition and pure incitement. This is the precise definition that we bequeth to a zombie or rather a possessed corpse and yet we even do injustice to zombies by degrading them with such a definition as even zombies have a purpose to their very existence, to feed on human flesh.
So now, moving on to a subject that truly matters. The food of the soul the fuel to our journey, dreams designate our chosen paths in life and our choices formalize which manner we are to tackle the obstacles faced in these individual pathways of our choice. But what if we are faced with the merciless consequence of realizing that we may never achieve our dream? If all the yearningful hopes that we may have built within the corner of our tiny hearts may never be ours? Devastatingly crushing isn’t it? It tears and shreds your heart into tiny bits and pieces as it crumbles all whims and fancies. The angst that only the heart recognizes is a sorrowful aftermath of many crushed expectations.
Whether it may have been an ambition that had been lifelong or was it a simple fancy that our heart took delight in, the disappointment at the lose of such an expected gratification does much harm to the soul and heart. Having longing something and praying and dreaming everyday of your life of holding it so close to your heart is a pleasure that only true expectancy and provide. I remember the simple days when every spare moment of my mind was occupied by the delectation of day dreaming about how I happy I would be having my little dream come true.
Whether it may be as trivial as receiving the long awaited Barbie for Christmas or finally finding the Mr. Right in our lives (on behalf of the ladies out there), the tiny flutter our heart gives as the mind takes us on a magical journey of the connection between heartfelt desires and concoction of imaginative tributes (I’m talking about daydreams here in a rather flowery manner) is a jolt of joy on its own. Reminiscing about the good old days, where simple pleasures were what my heart truly craved for, I would sit on the sofa, my mind drifting and swirling through its own world of magical fantasies where anything was possible.
Those truly were moments of sheer bliss and serenity. But what happens to all these little moments when our dreams shatter before our very eyes? So what will we do when the shards of the fragments of our lives prick and prod us? They rip at our woven euphoria, chip at our pillars of confidence, and tear at our nimble faith. Tears that pour like streams flowing through a valley is the chip of the cornerstone of the constant flood of depression that will soon unveil a whole life of angst and agony. Broken dreams are detrimental to the heart, soul and mind of a person and if faith is unrestored it is fatal to every inch of the person’s true self. Lost of all grip in life they will cease to live at all opting to exist rather than persist.
I have had dreams shattered with the shards puncturing my heart of all places. I felt nulled and as empty as a barrel. Hurt from all corners I was destitute and desolated. Tears were my accompaniment on a daily basis, cries would then follow suit and heart wrenching words that would slip from my lips and heart into pages and pages of lamenting then ensured. Traumatizing moments those were. Thankfully I had a way of channeling all my angst and pain out of me rather than bottling them inside. It would have erupted for sure otherwise as pent up emotions do not stay buried for long or they would have devoured my soul from the inside out. But I close my eyes every night knowing that my emotion lay before my me, my tears soaking a piece of paper filled with my scribbles. I find it easier to go back to my child like dreams that require nothing but a laugh to carry me on from day to day….

Many people claim to know themselves well enough. Most teens in fact, pride themselves about how well they know and understand themselves but when I look at these sturdy and even at times cocky youthful entities I smile to myself. I have seen many people (adults included) who still find it hard to decipher and discover their true self. Change in character, emotion and intellectual judgment becomes a rapidly and constantly diversifying process and many a times these changes evokes a feeling of discomfort within them. Ever had moments where you felt completely alienated in your wn skin? Ever endured points in your life where you found yourself contradicting yourself at every turn?
Well, I have. It wasn’t as easy as I once imagined it to be as there were so many factors and aspects of my life and character that I had never discovered till those few hours of self exploration. But what was most amazing was that not only did I discover that there were so many sides to me that were undeveloped but that I had neglected so many aspects of my life that fuelled me emotionally and capable of supporting me intellectually. The process that involved the awakening of my morale senses and enlightenement wasn’t a breeze (which of course made the impact of its enlightenement all the more drastic and effective I might add) as it involved tremendous pain, sacrifice and a whole lot of reconciliation with what I used to call the bitter truth. I won’t lie, it wasn’t a transformation that was endearing or instant for the matter but it took many harsh words, angry tears and vitriolic words were spat out like from the tip of my tongue. I was very frequently washed over by waves of hatred, humiliation, self degradation and so many self inflicting worries that I practically held myself in comparison to one that was mentally disabled.
I am not going to justify my actions but I do have to point out that these acts were not committed when I was sane at mind as well as heart so bear no grievances those that I have wronged for I wasn’t myself. You have my sincerest apologies and heartfelt convey of remorse. But, now that I have snapped out of my resentful stupor (seeing that I had managed to expunge all these splenetic angst that seemed to have embedded itself deep within me) I am able to undertake life with a whole new objectivity.
With my newfound principles cemented by the support by of my family and true friends, I have found a more solid and tranquil lifestyle. I have neve been a person that enjoyed silence and peace as I loved the constant roller coaster in life with the contant injuctures of excitement and thrills. But, its almost ironic to think that for a teen I may be looking at life from the perspective of a 40 year old. I outgrew the fun and zesty part of life opting for a more subtle and quiet life as the excitment had driven my senses haywire and I was incapable of thinking rationally.
But now, my feet solidly rooted to the ground, I am firm and resolute with my new life as I have finally found a comfort and security that I had been so desperately searching for. Perpetually yearning for a sense of belonging, I finally found my place in life. It was there all the while and I had been so blinded by my passion for life that I had completely lived a life in oblivion to the obvious facts. My life had been waiting in front of my eyes, and all I had to do was to look at what I already had instead of always searching and wanting more. Its called turning away from temptation. And finally, life has began smiling through the dark clouds…

It has been a long while since I last wrote here but well, self expression does begin to take a toll on human intellect and emotional strength especially when it involves both the trying or rather to be quite frank, the harshest transpirations of our very lives and the sane reasoning and understanding of why these things happen to us without allowing remorse or other emotions influence our judgment. Some people underestimate this indulgence, as to them writing these posts are as simple as dictating certain views that we pertain to our lives. But let me share a little secret with you, divulging your essentials and baring your heart’s content and principles in life isn’t as simple as it is. Speaking on behalf of all bloggers with the same notion as I do,letting our fingers do the talking instead of our lips, letting the tips of our fingers find the truth in what lies beneath our hearts, no one sees the tears that manage to slip by between the lines or hear the sobs that manage to creep up our throats virtually choking us.
The grey truth shows that pain is unavoidable. Many a times I have sat in front of this mechanical feature and stared blankly at it without a single thought in mind to allow my fingers to dictate. These are the times that my mind had truly failed me and intelligence was something that was quite absent in presence, but never can i recall a moment when my heart failed me. For instance, during the moments where I had been so mercilessly been neglected by my intellectual quotient I sought refuge in my emotional expressions. I allowed my heart the ability to speak and voice out all its pain and joy, truths and faults and how I connect through an emotional basis. It was at these fervent moments that I made a startling discovery, honesty and truth flourished through these moments.
Not to sound like some deranged, unstable person but this was a discovery that was truly very astounding to me. I had always felt that the truth was a fragment of our minds work. Truth was fact, unsubjected to perspective and unregulated by sentiment in the least. It was solid, steady and unwavering in definition making it reliable,sturdy and completely trustworthy. So how does this work in favor of poignant feelings to begin with? The mind is associated with our practical interpretations and command of our intelligence. But the truth is something that should not be stereotyped as such, for the truth itself is an origin from our own conscience. And what delegates matters of our conscience other than our heart? So in what manner is it just to make truth an essence of the mind when our conscience is originated from the works of our heart?
I have learnt to deal with both parts of me over time. Using my head to realize right and wrong and using my heart to feel the truth in my call. It took many years and painfully subjected traumas to realize me and awaken me to my senses. It was an awakening in a sense and it was murder in another. I felt completely betrayed, hurt and the pain is beyond expression as I had neve felt such angst in comparison. It rendered me helpless and I was a lifeless shell that glided through life as motionlessly and not more alive than a rock. Losing all feeling, mirth and any sense of tranquility within my soul, I searched and longed desperately for some hope at a chance back at my life. Fooled at every turn I was at the brink of self destruction when unexpectedly a hand reached out and pulled me into a warm embrace of comfort.
Words, feelings and sheer passion. All my angst were recorded so that I would never forget it and that it would never fade from my sights. What seemed as conjunctures of sordid affairs in my life had more than one positive outlook to it. I received a loving family, a promise of a bright future, and I was enlightened on who were truly friends and who were beside me with more than complacent ulterior motives. I learnt a great deal from this antagonizing ordeal but honestly, I feel reborn. It is as if my whole soul was reincarnated and I was now living afresh. I had paid my dues and retributions, and now I was given an option to either move forward or wallow back into the pit of despair that I had so incredulously foolishly dug up for myself to begin with. I opt for the former with more than just relief at being awarded such a miracle but with a great deal of strength and a newfound thirst to prove myself. I won’t lie to my own heart by saying that I don’t yearn for a second chance to retrieve what I had lost that day, but I suppose when life gives you so much it has to take something away. And to me, life had claimed its greatest payment. I may never forget what had happened that day and what I had lost, though all I had were a few joyous laughs and an honest emotion, what may have happened if it was to have blossomed would be beyond my apprehension but it would have been both remarkable and beautiful. Tears will stain my pillow now and possibly every night of my life as I may never uncover the possibilities that lay at that path of my life but I will never regret the moments that I had or atleast the simple laughs that we shared. This is my conviction of devotion….

“To err is human but to forgive is divine". This is a saying that I have always kept close to my heart. I believed in its principle and I truly respected the form of elevating one’s position to such an esteemed level with such a noble act. Yet, there were upon many occasions where I used to sit and wonder why is it such a noble act? How difficult is it to accept an apology of a repentant figure, one that has swallowed all pride and succumbed to the incision of guilt? I mean I’m sure the person begging the pardon is suffering a great deal more shame and pain, in terms of emotionally and if it is a matter of social inclination that is included as well. How then is the forgiver the one that is noble? By opening his heart to a sincere apology? Is it fair to subject them to such judgments? Somehow, the way that I seem to be narrating this issue, I may be portraying that of a defensive side. Well, to be completely honest I have viewed both perspective and seeing the fact that I am after all human, I believe it safe to claim that I bear with me the knowledge of actually being on both sides to furnish me with enough details to deliberate.
The forgiver is seen as the more prominent of the two beings. Seeing that he is willing to overlook the wrong and injustice that has been done to him, he is thus elevated to the status of a divine being. Yes, it remains undeniable that the forgiver has suffered a great deal and perhaps even a loss on his behalf may have been rendered, but how many people have been wronged in life? How many still persist on with their arduous life styles. I don’t mean the imply that people should just grit their teeth and allow their fate and rights to be manipulated by the likes of others all in the name of the existence of apologies, but I do want to show how trivial it does seem, of the pain the forgiver bears when contrasted with that of the forgiven. I am not defending the sins committed or perpetrated by the forgiven, and neither am I condoning it. But, the point that I am so determined to emphasize and point out is merely that the it takes a great deal of courage, strength and inner confidence to actually own up to a mistake and even more to confess to a number of individuals especially if it does mean that embarrassment and humiliation is unavoidable. To know danger and walk into it is courageous but to know humiliation and accept the consequences of emotional torment all in the sake of mending mistakes so that justice and truth prevails is by far more stalwart than any act I have ever had the honor of coming across.
Sometimes I wonder if true human nature comes with sheer oblivion or we just choose to be so ignorant. I find it pretty degrading as I watch acts that naturally command some form of recognition or atleast appreciation in the least go unnoticed. At times, when these commendable acts are just glossed over I console myself that people are just nescient to certain details that done concern them in particular but what truly unearthes surges of anger within me would be the fact that some people have the audacity to slight these acts claiming that they are acts done insincerely or solely performed for selfish reasons. Do these people have any idea how much of pain is involved for a person to swallow his pride and admit shamefully to an act that is incommodious in nature? Of course not. It is however a synch to batter an already broken entity in his time of desperation, isn’t it? Welcome to the sadistic and barbaric world of human nature.
For the sinner, ( I’m not making this any milder than it should be) he endures a possibilty of a lifetime of personal torment as he is held questionable to his heinous acts by his own conscious ( something that every sane mortal should possess, unless of course they have succumbed to the level of animalistic integrity). Could you imagine sleeping at night, when every particle and every inch of your skin screams unease? Could you even conceive the mental fatigue of the culprit as he struggles day in and day out with a conscience that weighs a ton on his shoulders? Or do you think you are capable of fathoming the emotional trauma that somebody could endure when all every fibre of their body is tainted and every move made is calculated a million times because of fear and dereliction? Pretty paradoxical, won’t you agree?
I’m not going to pretend to be a saint and state that I have never held a grudge. Of course I have. But in cases where I know the penance has dutifully been subjected and retribution has made its run, I bear no ill feelings towards them. It would be a greater sin on my part not to accept their flaws. Besides, it doesn’t take much convincing as all I have to do would be to envisage myself it their shoes, and presto! I am able to decipher my next move. After all, I am not as hard-hearted to subject them to such angst and anguish. But not many people see things in my light and thus the most cruel of executions are implemented under the false pretext of avoiding conflict. What could be worse than the refusal of an apology? Ignoring and eluding someone. When a plea is turned down, atleast the person in debt is acknowledged but when you turn away from someone, you degrade them to a level of not even being worth a human recognition. Let me ask you, is this even remotely fair? Is this the sort of atonement that they should be asked to serve? What sort of sin could be as iniquitious to receive such an amercement? I doubt anything can tally to that level. So ask yourselves, do you really believe you are executing justice the way you perceive right, or are you simply adding on to the more inhuman ways of punishing others that so painfully seek pardon for their wrongdoings? Are creating awareness in the form of morality or creating awareness that highlights how unappreciative people are to the forgiven or worst unforgiven? Ponder upon this thought as it shakes the very root of our moral pillars and foundation.

So much has happened and changed diversely within these 18 years of my calculated existence. Most things are understandable but some remain mysteries that bewilder me till this very day. People walk through every phase in their lives so emotionlessly and so void of any inspiration that I find myself questioning the very motive of our existence. Where is the passion? Where is this so-called zest for life? Where is that spark that is supposed to twinkle so brightly in every individual’s eye? What has happened to that boost of energy that sends us flying out of bed like a cannon ball at the excitement of embracing and welcoming another day of simple life? So many unanswered or rather, unanswerable questions jolt me from this ignorant life that I so solemnly lead. There was once a wise saying, "an idle mind is a devil’s workshop". But I beg to differ in some circumstances. I found my mind "idling" in this manner at the time of leisure, questioning manfestations, exigences, perceptions, conceptions so on and so forth. I began prying and analyzing everything and everyone. Then, as a wave of realization washed over me, I persuaded myself to accept the fact that not all questions are indictable. But that is exactly what life is.
Life is all about the mysteries. It is about the unknown and the equivocal. This magic of inapprehensible and undiscovered truth is what gives us our motivation and boost. The eagerness in being able to one day uncover the truth behind the perplexity that surrounds our very existence is enough to fuel us for the next 100 years. If life wasn’t such an ambiguos secret would we be in the least bothered to take another step further in life? I hardly doubt it. Forgive me if i sound harshly sceptical or cynical but these are cold hard facts and reality isn’t a forgiving ambience. But what suprises me so is that, people these days are so hard to inspire. The simple joys of life that used to give them great pleasure and earn heartful chuckles now merely scratch a grin across their face. What I have realized is that people do change over time. No matter how much they deny or refute this fact, i am adamant in substantiating this opinion.
Time does take a toll on us sooner or later. Or does it? Is it fair to blame time? Or is it simply the evolution process itself? Is this how we are biologically programmed to function? Where we undergo intellectual, emotional and an all-rounded change in self as time progesses? I suppose so. Judging through the observation and simple scrutinization of the many assortments of characters and personalities that we surround ourselves everyday, I am inclined to think so. As we mature, our zest for life wears off and in its place we find practicality growing at a steady pace. We find ourselves rationalizing rather than believing, we find ourselves calculating rather than dreaming or hoping and worst of all (by my books) we find ourselves reasoning rather than knowing. There was a time in all our lives where we believed in the miracles that happened, and we dreamt and hoped for such miracles rather than calculate its possibility systematically and we knew with our hearts if we deserved it rather than reasoning and persuading our minds.
The simple fairy tales that accompanied us in childhood, the pleasures of believing in saints, angels and wishes upon stars that once filled our hearts and lives with immense joy has now been replaced with more practical expectations like plum dividents and solid premiums. It is almost devastating to find these child-like pleasures fade from adults so rapidly. Sheer innocent joy is now so scarce amongst any mature thinking adult that they don’t even believe in the magical existence of joy and pleasure. It depicts the transaction of life from blooming innocent laughter and giggles amongst flowery shrubs basking in the warmth of a bright sun to the melancholic semblance of practical maturity in a grey professional suit all geared up to gun down the next vulenerable person in our way. So much for innocence. Innocence takes a backseat, or rather, to be completely honest, it simply dissipates, bringing along with it compassion, fundamental principles (at times), and most essential of all imagination.
Adults lack the color and passion that children possess so vigorously and with the coming of age and apprehension, this vigor simply sifts through their fingers. Unable to grip or grasp it, adults turn to more solid basis and support. Facts and data. Cold hard facts without an ounce of passion or imagination involved. Today, I believe I have answered (through my own perception of course) what I believe has been a constant nagging to our subconscious emotional intelligence and to some undeniably, their intellectual aspect as well. Why life has become so mechanical and humdrum. Why it has transformed from an art form to a mechanic projectile. Why it lacks the passion and fervor that some individuals so desperately seek. It is nature and it is evolution and this is what a circle of life truly is….

The grass isn’t always greener on the other side. I was once told these wise words at a tender age of 11. I can still remember that day. My uncle and I had been watching a television program and it depicted a life of a youngster who had to face a great deal of hardship at such a young age. And like all adults he said something befitting that moment. At first, I took it lightly. Not knowing or addressing the depth that those words carried I brushed them aside as if they were everyday words. But as the years flash by, these small and harmless memories that carry so much importance in our life tend to haunt not our conscience but rather our intelligence at some point.
I was sitting pondering upon those words when a thought penetrated my mind. Is the grass ever green enough for either side? I suppose not. Most people have the tendency of just brushing past or flinging aside these tiny details of life that later become the missing links to the larger pieces of life’s everlasting puzzle. Memories and our past hold a great significance in our lives. It moulds us and shapes us. It makes us who we are and it defines our take on and in life itself. Yet, we see that in many cases we are advised against dwelling in the sorrows of our past. Why? Aren’t sorrows the emotion that emphasizes joy? Isn’t pain what highlights pleasure?
At times I wonder, why is it so hard to let go? Why is it that I find it almost impossible to move on? Sometimes, questions run fluidly through my mind. If it hurts so much, why can’t I let go? If I choose to go on and move on why is it that my mind reverts back to the past? These thoughts basically bombard my senses and paralyze my emotions with the same freezing pain that my heart so dutifully embraces day in and day out. I have yet to unravel the mysteries that these questions so preciously guard, but I have not given up yet.One day I believe that the truth will reveal itself and revelation will be my enlightenment.
But while that time has yet to come, the ultimate matter of dispute is, what shall I do? Leave my past in ashes of what charred remains I still hold of those past years, or should I cling to it and grasp it in the palms of my hand as a certificate of all that I have been through? Deeply perturbing, these thoughts are and yet they are fundamental to our emotional maturity. I remember those simple moments in life where I uttered words such as, " My greatest dream is to be able to lie on my deathbed and say proudly that I have no regrets". Naivety. Or was it plain ignorence? Well, whether it was innocence or plain nescience, one thing remains irrefutable. It was bliss. It definately was. The ability to have such dreams and truly believe in it may seem a tad childish but that sort of innocence is rare and for a split second of my life I possessed the power to annex such a dream.
Then life took its toll. With the maturity of age and the dawn of comprehension, innocence took a backseat in life and survival instincts became a vital source of motivation. Every turn with sheer innocence or the lack of emotional strength and equity was surely greeted by nasty peroration. I stepped into the world as a sheltered soul. Removed from actual ambience and soundly protected from the cynical world, I was the epitome of ignorance.
Incredibly oblivious to so many things, I became embroiled in muddles and messes that left me charred, vititated and emotionally crippled. I never expected life to be so vicious and heartless. Torn and ravaged by all that have happened, I hung on a thread. Clinging to what little pleasures and cherished moments that I had with me, I battled with fate. I can’t affirm that I have attained victory or that I am succesful but what I can say with firm conviction is that I am still surviving. It isn’t a survival that paints a potrait of perfection but I am still breathing through. I hold on to what remainders of both my past and present with a certain amount of pride as well as pain. As the saying goes, "No pain no gain". But what I am mostly proud of is that I have stopped struggling with my past and have grown accustomed to accepting it, for life is nothing more than a walk with your past, present and future intact.

Ever wondered if there was such a thing as fate? I mean, have we been predestined to endure whatever joys and hardship that we are currently enduring? Is this life some sort of great master piece concocted by a higher authority? These questions are the essence of our very existence but curiously I find that not many people seem intrigued by it. Honestly, I am a rather practical person. Don’t get me wrong, I am not an atheist. I have complete faith and believe in God. But my reasons for praying may differ from most. I believe in the teachings that religion holds us to. It may not be the existence of a higher being or the superstition that surrounds this divine power that keeps me enthralled by it, but rather, i find that all religion preaches and teaches basically the same thing in different manners.
But the main reason to why I find religion so captivating is because to many it is a mere faith but to me it is a savior. Befuddled? Let me enlighten you. Every soul has its painful moments and I am no different. In fact, I had bit off a little more than I could chew and predictably choked. Unable to confide in anyone, I suppresed my emotions and was asphyxiated with all that pent up frustration and angst. It was difficult as I was a person that took everything in a stride and no matter how depressed or traumatized by anything, I would never display my emotions as I always believed in handling my own issues. My problems resided within me and divulging them to others was never a plausible option.
I am not a loner. Neither am I deluded or alone. I have a perfectly beautiful and wonderfully supportive family and a number or true and devoted friends. I have no qualms turning to them but in this instance I found it almost impossible to. Inexplicable as it was, I found that no one could understand me at that point but myself and I resolved to stand this one down and face it. I have always been an independent person especially when it comes to handling my issues and problems and I was pretty firm with my decision that this would be no different. Yet, this harrowing experience was something completely alien to me. It was something that I had never encountered nor confronted in all my years.
Even though I had declined the help of familiar faces I was forced to accept the fact that I was in desperate aid of mental serenity and needed some way to tranquilize my storming soul. Miraculously, the answer that I had been so desperately seeking had been with me all this time. Faith. I needed to believe in something. I needed to have faith and restore my confidence by channeling my faith into something positive. Thats when I found the miracles of religion. It allowed me to believe again.
When everything crumbles around you and hope seems like a joke out of a book, the only way to pick yourself up would be by restoring all the lost faith in life. I have to admit that when I was so hopelessly embroiled and entangled in such mentally harassing and anxious affairs, I felt that there was absolutely no point in pursuing life. Destitute and deserted, nothing seemed important and I begin to live life like a walking corpse. Void of all emotion, I was a shell of my existence. I picked myself up as I recollected my thoughts and gathered my faith. With this newfound strength I started believing in life, it gave me strength to see why life persists.
I eventually gave myself to believing life. I sustained from falling off the brink it the eternal pit of despair. Picking myself up wasn’t at all in the least easy but I am eternally grateful for what faith has helped restore within me. Virtues, strength and most essentially life….