Meet Melancholy

They said it was madness,

I tried to tell them that they didn’t know my definition of love

My definition of existing

They told me I was self-destructive,

I told them if I did not destruct myself, someone else would

And that I would rather battle my own demons

than fight the internal war of another

Did they not know that sadness was by far more intricate than happiness?

Did they not know that obsessions were far more powerful than content?

 

I tried to tell them that there was no natural state,

there IS no natural state

To be happy, to be sad, is relative

To be happy, to be sad, is subjective.

Wilting Flower

 

Like a wilting flower,

in the winter,

You came

And awakened me with icy water

that

revived a part of my soul

And then when summer came

you

choked me

with humidity

and breathless, you left me.

Celebralite

   I always carry sadness around with me  in one form or another, be it the unseen protruding sorrow from my soul through my eyes, be it the sound of wretched whispers muttered from my spirit through my lips, intertwined in my skin eluding through my touch and last but not least the buried melancholy in my mourning embrace. When I was younger, the universe appeared an optimist’s rapture, a place where one would most definitely flourish into a being of hope and success, of happiness and love, of laughter and dreams. As time passed and my journey continued, I came upon a realization that the above sentiments are merely part of an engineered world, that the universe was actually madness, a playground for insanity and bewilderment, and I became frightened of the ghastly spark that suddenly electrified my soul, the gaping loneliness that pledged to never part me through my passage. I am not talking about a lack of enjoyment or a shortage of friendships, I am expressing a feeling of desolation that is by far more powerful than solitude and seclusion; it is an anesthetizing void that freezes the essence o f life. I have had great belief that a moment would arrive where this agonizing inexpiable void would manifest into more buoyant passions however time over time, I feel it return, manifesting and giving birth on my spirit as I fought it in anguish. As I did not know how to handle the suffering and this infuriated me, I began responding to the void with profound and unfathomable anger and rage that evolved into tears where you could heed muffled pleas for help

            With time and through idiosyncratic experiences that I have endured, I have found myself exploring the void instead of accepting its existence. With this new crossing I endured upon, I observed the emptiness as it fluctuated with every occurrence that saddened me. With this crossing, I became more aligned with myself and came across an epiphany that enlightened me, that the void was self inflicted and that there were ongoing disasters of our universe, be it emotional or natural catastrophes, mass devastation and suffering of humankind, were by far much more real and potent than the troubling mental scars of the self pity I griped so dearly to. I am still on the journey of this progression and with time I am no longer afraid of the barrenness that visits me in times of gloom and obscurity. 

Degenerate

The year i discovered that I was the main source behind all my misery, that the only demons were really one big demon, myself made up of tiny particles assimilated into thoughts.

The year I realized that nobody has a prerequisite to life, nobody is handed a fucking manual to the do’s and don’ts and the rules. It’s like we naturally assume our parents are our manual, what a mistake, we are a concussion of characters and personalities.

And it was the year that I unlocked the door to my creative writing flow. The excerpts i could not wait to develop – that indescribable feeling or urge to get the dialogue of your mind and paint it into words – to make sense of it all.

The moment that you realize the battle is with yourself, I mean, is a pretty intense moment but all jokes aside, when they say it is entirely in your hands.

It’s like some internal awakening, I feel that I was totally dormant in all aspects of my life for years… I suddenly would not settle for a mediocre life.

I keep blaming all these external circumstances as to the reason i have not achieved what i am “supposed” to achieve, and that feeling, oh that feeling of being torn between what you are and who you envision yourself. I mean, I am a total hippie at heart, a hippie that looks like Kim Kardashian, what a parody. Oh, and I blame that totally on living in a cosmopolitan city with standards higher than Kilimanjaro.

To make it even worse, a Kim Kardashian that watches documentaries on religious cults, most notorious murders and plane crashes, bi-polar alchemy, the glory of it all.