the journal of a

 I j ust wa n t to screa m to the world, scream it so loud. You've n o idea how broken I feel. How worthless, unloved, and wounded. And you can't because I can't let you see this part of me. You seem so happy, and all I want is to feel something besides this pain. I want what you seem to have. You don't know the shame I feel in this darkness. The shame keeps it hidden. I'm embarrassed by how dark it feels. I want you to save me, I want to seek refuge in your adobe. Please help me. Yet I can't ask. The shame quite my desires. But I can't scream it to the world. It's more than the world can handle. Because I know. I know that you too had demons you were fighting. All I wanted to do is hold you, hug you, let you know that I'm here, but how can I? When you don't allow me to look at your other side, all I see is how happy you seem. By "world" I mean "you, the reader".

 Today I tried writing, with all the vocabulary I had in my mind. And I think that kind of writing style doesn't suit me at all. I might use those heavy words when I'm writing about something passion related. I might go to my friend's place tonight. I feel I am unable to find myself and the harder I'm trying I'm either hurting myself or the ones close to me. And I know I'm not that kind of a guy, so for now I will find my refuge in other's social sphere. Two of my closest friends are not talking to me. I tried to know the reason, but I think my curiosity is my biggest red flag. I'm slowly working on this. I recently got to know that I come off as a totally different guy, who is not even 1% of what I truly am. There is this Bollywood song "Jo bhi main", in the whole song, the singer is telling his audience that "Whatever he wants to say from his heart, the words ruin it all ". I've been relating to this song a lot nowadays. I had a...

Lately, deep within my soul, anxiety and fear have been raging like wild waves crashing against the shores of my peaceful abode. They say home is where the heart finds solace, but lately, I've felt more like a wanderer in the halls I used to know so well. A year has passed, and each day feels like a repetition of the last as if I'm stuck in an endless loop of monotony. My once vibrant spirit, so full of life's color and zest, now seems to fade day by day like dust settling on an untouched piece of art . The essence of my personality is vanishing into thin air, one by one, it departs unnoticed, much like losing a penny from a jingling purse—unnoticed on its own, but as the days pass, the jingling from the purse becomes silent. I used to laugh, dance, run, fall, and fly not in the literal sense but had a spirited soul eager to touch new horizons. But now, as the sun sets on each passing day, a sense of restlessness surrounds me, and a veil of anxiety covers my heart. No longe...