I'm Tired Of The Constant Expectation To Be Happy, To Have Fun

I am unspeakably tired and burnt. I love my friends but there is a huge portion of my existence that they do not understand or if they understand, they do not feel the need to acknowledge it. It is that I get socially tired. I run on a battery while interacting with people. And, it runs out. Further, it takes time to get charged again like some unrenewable resource. I get tired of the constant need to have fun, the constant demand to take pictures, and the constant clinginess to have fun all the time. They need to be perfect and to look good with an artificial smile plastered on all the time so all the pictures come out really well. They need to be available and free and have the money to go around and eat and drink. They need to have fun all the time and constantly plan for the next outing without even having some time to recover from the previous one. I am tired. I am exhausted from the constant requirement to be happy. I am not essentially sad but I am just lacking the energy to be happy. I just want to be. Again, I love my friends and they are the best anyone could have. But, I fear. With my weak social energy, I might be pushing myself away from them. It is, at times, too much for me. Just so much more than what my mind can take. I just need some time to be me. Just to be. The constant need to be aesthetic is making me sick in my soul. Because it also is a constant reminder of how I am not perfect and of how I am a just misfit trying really hard to fit in a little bit. And, this is exactly what I need a break from. I want to just exist in my routine without this tiresome expectation to be perfect, all ready for the camera. My veins are dry from the extended efforts to be hip with them. My mind has become barren. I need to sleep without the lingering thought of how should I escape from the next plan. I need to read, write and work without the hurriedness of having to go somewhere. I need to laze around without the need to dress up, look good and travel all the way to take Pinterest-aesthetic pictures for the socials I don't have or use. I am tired of constantly thinking of ideas to give as excuses. I am tired of lying. I am tired of faking excitement and enthusiasm. I am tired of trying to be perfect for the camera all the time. I am tired of being someone else all the time. I am tired of looking for reasons to push away my friends all the time. I am tired of complaining about this and not being heard too. I am just tired of running away from people who once used to be my comfort zone.

- Oizys.

Do You Sing?

Do you sing? Do you dance? Do you paint? Do you read? Do you play? Do you travel? Do you run? Do you count stars? Do you do something to feel alive, to feel human when you get some time amidst your routine? To fill the break. 

- Oizys.

An Embarassing Entry Of Hope & Praying Of A Not-A-Believer

 I am not a believer anymore. And no, I am not a non-believer who has the opinions of the non-existence of any superior one. I am somewhere in between where I have stopped believing because I don't feel it from within in who or what to believe. Yet, this entry is a secret one. A manifestation. A pray. A call. Because, even though I have stopped believing, I have not stopped being desperate. I saw these posts where people have been writing the same sentence numerous times in which they say what they want in order to achieve it. In this entry, I will lay myself bare open and do the same. Because I am desperate and hopeless. And, I want something to happen. I want to be somewhere. I want to achieve something. And, I have no idea how to. I have no means to. I feel weak. I feel low. But, I want it.

- Oizys.

The Process Of Getting Comfortable Is Uncomfortable

I am not a social person, in general. I am pretty awkward. With my enhanced overthinking skills, I make it further edgy. I have to go through a huge process of getting comfortable. Be it with a person, or at a place. Even the process is so physically and psychologically uncomfortable for me. The tumbling, the stumbling, the picking up, the embarrassment, the picking up, the process of getting familiar, the hiding, the confrontation, the speaking up, the syncing and everything.

It's not that I don't want to be social, it's just that it takes so much energy and effort for me to feel comfortable in social situations. I envy those who can effortlessly walk into a room and strike up a conversation with anyone. For me, it's a constant battle between my desire for connection and my fear of being judged or rejected.

- Oizys.

What Brings Me Happiness?

I was rubbing ice on my pimples. And staring at my blemishes in the mirror. And, I started thinking. What brings me happiness? What brings me pleasure? What do I 'want'? What are my desires? I seeked answers within but the jarring silence pierced my mental peace. The pin drop silence within me in response to these questions made my soul wail.

I thought about all other people I know and moments when they were happy. My families, friends. How did they know what brought them happiness? How did they know what they wanted? How do people recognise their needs? How do people decide on what they desire? Do they also seek these answers from within? Or, in other people?

Is there someone else who has faces the same silence as me? As you know, misery loves company. 

- Oizys.

Do You Worry About What Other People Think About You?

Do you worry about what other people think about you?
Do I? Oh, yes, I do. I worry. A lot.

A Rare Entry of Cribbing About Someone Else

You know, normally I don't crib much about other people in my diary. I restrict it to my own thoughts and pieces. But, today. Oh, today. Some people have an amazing talent to boil your blood with their disgustingly cold and pompous attitude. You know, those specific kind of people who lace their words with extreme sweetness to cover their repugnant personality yet, the odium leaks from the break lines of the cream coating. You can feel the stink and your souls shudders as soon as they open their mouth to spew dark clouds of unpleasant effluents.

It just gets you. So hard they make their way into your precious things. Like here in my diary, in my case. And whatever you do or don't do, they leave a mark on your brains forever. The ickiness, stickiness from their negativity lingers. And sometimes, it successfully dissolves to become a part of you as well. It is, indeed, horrid.

Shame & Inadequacy Are My Constant Companions

Shame and inadequacy are my constant companions.
I am never left alone.
My mind crowded with overthinking and blurring emotions.
Consistently shameful of every action.
Unwaveringly inadequate in every manner.
I sometimes wonder:
Am I just like any other person or is this what it feels to be an invalid?
People always say, be you. Be yourself.
But, who am I? What am I?
Who even am I other than the constant need to know what to do? What to think? What to eat? What to wear?
And obviously, all these questions are always unanswered.
It's been so long they have remained unanswered like an age-old riddle.
Whenever I seek for them, it feels as if someone is haunting me from within.

A Tumultuous Day

Inside the meaning of time the seasons' whisper,
Memories of longing emotions like a dancer alone on the stage,
Followspot chasing behind her twirling legs like months unwrapping season after season,
Her hands dancing to the tune of music like flowers blooming with colors.

Stealing moments from here and there to take a glance at her own reflection,
To taking moments to check for her beauty in the others' eyes,
Thoughts keep dwindling between self-confidence and self-doubt,
But the legs and hands overshadow the sounds of the dark thoughts.

- Oizys.

Will You Forget Me?

I always wonder. If I leave today, will you forget me? Who will remember me? I look at people around me. People I'm related to. People I work with. People I have studied with. And, I think, will they remember me? Will they think about me when I am gone someday?

Then, I remember those moments I stayed back and didn't go out with them. Those moments I ran into my room when they visited me. Those moments I stayed asleep while they waited for me. Those moments I said no to take a picture. And my moments of solitude, that I took by snatching from them and enjoyed thoroughly and guiltily, scares me now. 

It's scary to think that those moments of solitude that I cherished might have come at a cost. Did I miss out on building connections and memories with the people around me? Will they remember me for who I truly am, or will they only remember the times I turned down their invitations or retreated into myself?

- Oizys.