A Living Note

 The world is becoming a huge race track. Everyone is chasing each other's attention. Everyone wants to be seen and heard and known. I'm quite tired of running. Tired of conforming to my family's expectations, making huge compromises just to maintain the social equilibrium, to avoid trouble, drama, and more pain.

I am struggling to find a sincere listener these days. I seem to be gently losing the confidence I had to be able to have people I can talk to, about the untalkable. 

I don't need anyone's sympathy. I don't want to be tolerated. I don't want to be suppressed, dominated, and contorted according to everyone else's comfort. I want to take up space. I want to take my time to say the things I have to say. I want the sincerity and authenticity of my intentions and morals to be noticed.

I want to be... Harshita Das. So many things and people have left behind their imprints on me, some I had to move on from and others I continue to carry. 

I know I am beautiful. I know I am smart and passionate and incredibly creative and curious. I know I am rare. But, it feels nice to be told those things by others now and then. Not for the sake of anything but out of self-interest.

My body and mind have sustained a lot of damage - done by people of my family, social circle and past. I am aware that I've lived in a victim mindset for years now. But since I don't feel like that is appreciated or known well enough, I tend to do it for myself.

I don't think that's pathetic. I think it's a rational trauma response. I write these extremely personal facts and send them out in the open, where anyone can access it from anywhere. Because it's easier to do that than to tell them to my friends or family.

I accept my failures, my mistakes, my flaws. I miss mind-writing. I drew the entire day today. I just don't want to stop or hold back my creative energy during this time. 

Every day I wonder when it will get better. Hope is what's driving me into the future. But is that enough? Absolutely not. 

I do think about death a lot. I think about how people experience it. But as much limited as my life is, I'm not allowed to die either. I want to live but happily. I don't like my normal. 

I want to go out, laugh, have sex, cry, hug people and eat a lot. I want to be seen, heard and understood. I am so wounded, I've learned to swim in the pool of my own blood. But will you come save me if I sink today?