Scraps from my Journal (Part I): Tired

5th November 2018

I am tired.

Tired of this chase, this rat race.

Tired of this face, that we sort of must put up.

Tired of being the container of all the emotions that, soon as they start to make sense, become intangible all over again.

Tired of this circle of destruction and reconstruction of myself.

Tired of acknowledging that this is a part of life, recognising and validating it.

Just tired of being my only saviour, because I refuse to have it any other way.

I see people voicing their deepest issues, and I wish I could do that too. I should be able to do that, I have people in my life who cares about me and all, then why do I choke every time I think about seeking help? Is it my ego cutting through my vocal cord, singing songs out of pride that I fail to recognise?

I am just tired.

Tired of constantly waging war with my knowledge and my feelings. Took me over 10 days of super isolation to get them in the same room, but it only lasted for about 6 months.

Tired of my never-ending unsatiated desires. How difficult is it to feel happy after getting a tattoo that you always wanted? Or after watching a magical Taylor Swift concert? Well, a lot, I guess.

Tired of thinking about things that are beyond me.

Tired of trying to be in the same page as time.

Tired of worrying about my fears and insecurities shaping me.

Just tired of overthinking over things in general.

I guess I’m just tired of pretending that everything is fine. It is not. Far from it.

I get it, nothing is constant, and things will always keep on changing and not necessarily in a pattern that I’m familiar with. It is just an infinite loop. I know them all in theory, but the "practicals" are still so fucking hard.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I am tired of being so fucking tired all the fucking time.

Let’s change that. It’s time to atleast try.

:(:


P.S.: I was literally going through my journal folder, came across this, thought some of you might relate. Do you?