4 Nov 2014

So I'm back to the old trips and the annoyance it impose on me. I hate going there. Hate everything about it and in it. I feel squeezed in space, literally, and in realm. Fake. Cautious. Anticipating. Watched. Feared. And I feel like a stranger. Well I am. And will always be. And I have no one to turn to. Or talk to. Sunk in my dark feelings and thoughts. Counting the minutes till I leave. This time it's not only myself whom I'm trying to hide in but it's June and August who are following me everywhere even if I try to escape. I became resisting to all this relation and what it entails and expects of me.

I face a swinging feeling between wanting to continue and really feeling suffocated by it. Totally. By him specifically. After all these years I realised that we are so different. Maybe we have a connexion but day-to-day level, we fail miserably. I get annoyed by almost every gesture and every tone. Sarcastic and unforgiving. I see only the bad in him. Haunted with the thought and conclusion of his selfishness. Convinced of his soft power to manipulate me to do what he wants. Sensitive to his attempts to intimidate me. Softly. And every time he did it, I take notes and postpone my move. Swearing to myself that if I decided to intimidate him I will actually damage this relation for good. With no return.

Deep in me I'm resentful. Disengaged. Swinging. Pending. Waiting for the next thing to happen. Not sure what it is. But I'm waiting for it. I think I'm annoyed by his arrogance. Turned off by his selfishness. Bored by his stubbornness and almost stupid way of doing things and his subtle judgement of who I'm and how I do things.

BURNING HOUSE

Once said that the opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference. Did I reach there?  I feel so. As if I am struggling to keep myself interested. To keep myself in this house and in this relation and this family. It has become a struggle. An uphill effort that keeps me from enjoying. Keeps me from wanting to wakeup in the morning. Keeps me from an ability to smile. To feel light. Rather sarcastic. Empty. As if there is a vacuum inside of me. No energy to take me through. No desire to smile or play or even accept or deliver a joke. I became too serious. Too ridiculous. Too isolated from the happening to the emptiness. Looking with a cold eye to what is surrounding me; to the supposedly happy events to mean more commitment and more work and more soul-level effort. 'I can't handle all that', I tell myself. Not that i am ungrateful but because I am really bored. 

Bored from him. From her. From them. From me. Not even interested in explaining what happened. Not hopeful for a solution. Treat it with the same inner sarcasm or scepticism I developed around us. This concept that was created once a decade ago. Dissolved and took a different shape. Not interested in reviving it again. It was a figment of our own imagination that no one is interested in reviving it again. What for?