24 May 2022

This is the fourth day of log entries.
I slept really late again last night. There was a storm, and some flower pots broke, and a transformer exploded.
I woke up early in the morning and checked my phone. I saw another work rejection email. Hence, I slept again and woke up later.
I am writing a reply to that rejection email asking for feedback. However, the rejection email was riddled with spelling mistakes, such as "I regret to inform you that your have cleared that test." Ugh? Should I be glad to have been rejected from here or what?

I have sent an email to them asking for feedback. I ordered some food but got sick. 
I exercised today after a long time. The body feels sore but free. I also submitted the paper, and I have kept my hopes high about this one.
I received a message here from another diarist here. This feels like a homely place. I have replied to them.
And, I also found some more of my old entries from the manual diary scribbled here and there. I am planning to lodge them here too, maybe tomorrow.

The constant rejections feel like stepping on my hand when I am trying to crawl my way back from the pit crater. I tried to speak about this to a friend of mine today but in vain. She says to keep on trying. The thing is, I can't afford to give up. I am trying and will never stop doing so. But, the will has its own mind, which gets raveled sometimes. I wish someone could tell me, or at the very least, understand these kinds of incidents. These kinds of thoughts, are diametrically opposite but exist side-by-side. 

Today's mood: inept, bummed, discarded.

- Oizys.

 

23 May 2022

The third day of logging here. My fingers are still crossed about consistency.
Received a message here from last night; I felt seen and a bit understood by another human being. I replied to the person today.
I woke up super late because I slept this morning. I could not sleep last night because she snores A LOT.
I had breakfast at lunchtime.
I've been combing for work opportunities since I woke up. I have been receiving rejection mail since time immemorial.
All of our friends are employed in some capacity. I still haven't received a single call for even an interview.
I received a call this morning and thought it was for an interview, but it turns out they were selling courses.
I'm thinking of logging some of my old entries from my manual diary here. They are just a bunch of flailing and desperate poems and scribbles.
I received another message after this log was posted. Another human being who empathizes with the phase of having no work in life thanked the person for the response.
I wanted to order some food, but my sister kept nagging around, and then a random uncle popped by, and then it was too late.
I ate an early dinner with my family. 
They jibed at me for having no work. I restrained myself from getting irritated. My mental state can not afford another fight with them anymore.

The chanting has started again. The outer tinnitus.

Editing the paper that is supposed to be submitted. Hopefully, it will go up. I have ardently researched and written my part of the paper.

I finished working on the paper and lodged all my old entries from the manual diary here.

Yes, it has been so long that I don't even remember the time before this. This sadness has become so familiar that every other emotion seems alien and uncomfortable. This sadness is so heavy, it has completely crushed me beneath its bulwark of darkness, that I have submitted my remaining pieces and am wandering in the land of hopelessness seeking the finale. It is hitting the final rock bottom after being sucked by a pit of quicksand.

Today's mood: desolate, empty, sleepy.

- Oizys.

22 May 2022

Second-day entry, successfully registered.
Hopefully, I will remain consistent. Fingers crossed.
I woke up earlier than usual.
I ate noodles for breakfast and some milkshakes in the afternoon.
I fought with my family again.
Played some games, especially the bouncy ball one.
I am submitting a paper today. I hope that goes well too.
Feeling bilious.

I've got to know about "intrusive thoughts". I am slowly realizing that I have been having a lot of intrusive thoughts. Sometimes bad, sometimes good disguised as bad. My mind feels tired of all this buzz. Speaking of buzz, she keeps chanting in a low voice, which feels like a buzzing sound, quite similar to my tinnitus in the left ear. Her chanting is like tinnitus on the outside. My mind goes crazy whenever she sits behind me doing that.

I feel brittle. I feel sad. I feel lonely. I feel alone too. All together mixed. It all hit me all at once. To calm myself, I think of times when I did not feel such things, and I can't remember a single phase or point in life when I felt anything other than this. It makes me wonder why. I am apprehending I do not integrate here, wherever I am. How long can I survive like this, trying to fit in? How long will it be before I am discarded as an unfitting puzzle piece? Nothing I do sits well. Nothing, I think, bodes well. Nothing I plan to age well. I keep sleeping it off every night, thinking it will abate. But, for how long can I make-believe? Won't be long before people unwrap this veneer and see what a worthless pseud I am.

Today's mood: unproductive, jaded, depressed.

- Oizys. 

 

21 May 2022

Starting this diary.
I am hoping to be consistent, which is unlike anything in my life.
I'm spending my day entirely in bed today.
I'm upset with my family.
I woke up late and ate a cheap breakfast.
I haven't eaten anything since.
Friends are trying to publish a paper. I might collaborate.
Searched extensively for "Magolpy/Maman"... Where did she even go?
I feel sick, my stomach is growling, and my mouth is salty.

Finally, I went and watered the plants. As requested by a neighbor, I contributed to checking the cams for a troublemaker.

I ate some puffed rice but no condiments.

Dinner and then sleep! Uf.

I guess it doesn't bother me. I can't be bothered with anything these days. Whatever. Maybe tomorrow. Shrug. My mind is like a bunch of nothing, but so it goes. Today was a complete loss. What can I say? I've just been hanging out doing nothing. That's how it is. My mind is like a void. I just don't have much to say, but such is life. Oh well. Such is life. Basically, nothing is going on right now. I guess it doesn't bother me. I've pretty much been doing nothing worth mentioning. Eh.

I am hoping for a way out, like every other day.

Today's Mood: spiritless, dispassionate, neutral.

- Oizys.

Threat To My Thoughts

I feel useless after I talk to people. I have so many of these thoughts that I want to write, share, voice and scream. But, when I make them known to the world outside of my mind, give them a voice for others' ears, and let them into the minds of others, they vaporize into nothingness. They go away. They become hollow. They become meaningless. And, I can feel the emptiness loud and clear. It feels like someone stepping into a room and crashing into a handful of empty vessels, making a cracking noise.

What is it? Is it that I am only my thoughts? I am made up of only my thoughts. Is it me who is just a vessel and these thoughts fill me and make me who I am? Or, is it me who keeps my thoughts alive? And, is the presence of my thoughts only of substance when it is unknown to other beings? Do other people just consume and spit out my thoughts like plucking away weed?

I fear writing sometimes, to pen my thoughts down. For, if people read, my thoughts extinguish into non-existence. Then, where do I put you, my thoughts? We are safe nowhere but in this mind of mine.

- Oizys.

When Did I Pick Up This Pen

I do not know. I do not remember when I decided to write for the very first time. What was that moment when I must have thought inking was better than telling? What was that moment when I sought solace in the empty pages of a diary rather than in people who claimed they deserved my trust? Was it when my blood denied my color? Was it when my batchmates moved away from me? Was it when the teacher skipped me because I took some time to think? Was it when my kinfolk ignored me because I was too ill? 

It must have been a moment of sadness when my words went unheard that I thought of registering on a page. It must have been a moment of pain when my cries were ignored and I poured my emotions into the back of a notebook.

It hurts, you know. I love filling these pages with beautiful words, broken poems, obscure sentences, and abandoned memories, but the whys and wherefores are themselves my brokenness and moments where I was abandoned.

- Oizys.

Sacrific For Survival

I am stuck in a rut. In a room. Between one side of the bed and a table filled with dusty books and this crappy laptop. I want to get out, getaway. Far, far away. I can not live like this anymore. This comfort comes at the cost of my privacy and peace. I have no other way than to lock myself in this room. I do not want this. I want to move out of this hellish stomach that incinerates my freedom with its toxic acid. I just want to tear it open and spring out. I am losing every intangible part of me. My dedication, my love, my books, my words, my mind, me. The connection of blood has kept me tethered. Their blood filled my veins, tying me to this stomach. I want to rid myself of their so-called ichor and be free.

"There is a freedom that comes with abandonment." Suzanne Scanlon. 

Perhaps detachment is what will be the key to this junky lock. I am desperate to alleviate myself by chopping off this relationship. Desperate to get rid of this dependency. I know I will bleed when I part ways. If sacrificing my own blood is what is needed to gain survival, then so be it. 

- Oizys.

Words Hemmed Inside The Attic of My Mind

I wrote for two days, then I couldn't write yesterday. It's so difficult. I have been dragging myself since the morning to write again, but... no progress.

I want to write so much. I want to write about everything. Everything I see, I hear, I listen, I speak, I feel. Everyone I meet. I want to log everything. The voices, the thoughts, the feelings, the emotions. Those experiences. My entire life and every life that is connected to me. I want to draw the whole web with my words and bottles of ink.

But, I can't... I am unable to. I lodge it in my head, but then when I think of jotting it down, I am unable to pick up the pen. My spine doesn't straighten up. I can't find pages suddenly. Every minute logged into my head disappears. They run into these little rooms in my head, those corner rooms at the end of the corridor. They go into those rooms, shut the doors, and hide in the old attic. becoming an omnium gatherum of sporadic bits and pieces locked in the truck, which is covered with spiderwebbed rust.

- Oizys.

The Tide Of Rumination

Chopping vegetables.

I felt myself slipping into the land of gloom. Bad thoughts consume me. Sometimes, they just flood my head, and sometimes, they seep into my mind. They reach into my mind's functional surface from an underground reservoir of Weltschmerz. 

I had to write this down to distract myself from my own despondency that I didn't even wash my hands after cutting the vegetables and before picking up a pen to write.

- Oizys.

The Fantasy Of Oblivion

I feel heavy.

I gave a presentation on the paper I am writing. and got a poor grade. The evaluator didn't say anything, didn't ask anything, graded the paper poorly, and didn't even give any feedback. It looks like they don't support my stance on the topic of SSR&PIL. 
I received another grade today. Poor too, this one. But, this one is on me. I didn't work hard enough. I deserve it. I don't even remember working hard for anything now in life. 

Last night, I wrote for the first time in a long time. I felt a bit lighter. I had forgotten how light it feels when I put my feelings on paper in the form of words. But, I also felt something else, a bit emptier. Some more space in my head. People say it is generally a good thing. When you write to relieve stress, you feel lighter because you have space in that head of yours for more important things going on in life.

It made me think. It scared me a bit because I have no other important things to put in that empty space. It made me a question...
What's important to me? What is the worth of my existence? What do I want? Do I aspire to be rich? Or, famous? Or, intelligent? Do I love? Do I want to love? Do I want to be loved? Do I desire? Do I want to be desired? Do I want someone or something in my life? Do I even deserve to? Do I even have the capacity to want or to aspire or to love or be loved or desire? What's the shape of my future?
I do not know. I do not understand where other people get answers to these questions. Do they even get these questions or do these things come to them, naturally?
I feel empty. I just realized this emptiness is heavier. Because it's noisy. The questions echo. They have that scary devil's voice with little air whooshing around, the devil's tail strapped around my neck, choking me tighter as I skip every one of those questions unanswered. Grh...

How do people do this? How do they function? I see people planning, and building, each block filled with meaning, each brick shaped with hard work and perspiration. I wait for myself to feel the kick to do the same. But, I don't feel the kick. And now, I don't even want to feel it. Because I can't even see myself in my own future anymore or with people. When I peek into the idea of the future in my mind, I see myself as absent. Non-existent. I see myself as nothingness. Blended into the atmosphere? Or buried deep under that rock bottom after being sucked by the quicksand pit? 

No desire. No want. No hope. No success. No failure. No love. No war. Just nothing. Oblivion. Nothingness — is probably my only fantasy.

- Oizys.