5 July 2022 - Let Them Eat Cake

Making a cake.
Hope it turns out to be good!
I am also thinking of making honey icing for it. But, it's still up for debate.

Something in German: det Kuchen ist lecker und schön!
[English Translation: The cake is delicious and beautiful!]

- Oizys.

4 July 2022

The fourth day of July.
It rained cats and dogs. The entire outside seemed to be painted with the color white. I woke up a bit late in the morning, so I could not sleep. My family had a good sleep during the rain. One of the few things I like about rain is that I can get all cozy up in my blanket and sleep.
After the rain subsided, I went to a nearby mall. had coffee and cakes. I did a lot of window shopping and very little actual shopping.
I brought some momos, which I shared with the family.
I ended the day by improving and vetting my work.

- Oizys.

3 July 2022 - A Little Bit Deutsch

 Welcome to July.

I have started learning German. And, I have been doing some shopping. Went on a huge shopping spree with mother and sister the day before yesterday. Brought some stuff for around the house. And, I was supposed to go and buy some dresses yesterday with my sister but we had a spite hence, dropped the plan.

Anyway, let me share my introduction in German which I learned:

"Hallo, schön dich kennen zu lernen.

Mein Name ist O.
Ich komme aus einer Stadt.
Ich lerne Deutsch.
Ich bin student.
Eines meiner Hobbys ist Lesen.
Ich schreibe gerne Gedichte und liebe es, Tagebuch zu führen.

Prost! Auf Wiedersehen!"

The translation in English:

"Hello, nice to meet you.

My name is O.
I am from a town.
I'm learning German.
I am a student.
One of my hobbies is reading.
I enjoy writing poems and love journalling.

Cheers! Goodbye!"

If any of you know German, please let me know how I am doing. And, if I have made any gross mistakes, I profusely and sincerely apologize to all. Feel free to make any corrections. Criticism and feedback are welcome and appreciated! Thanks!

- Oizys.

30 June 2022 - Rain Bowing On Our Parade

To them,

I have discovered a thing⁠—no, not a thing⁠—a living part of myself. It has been thriving ever since that time. But I was blinded from feeling by the social script of humans. This part of me is me. For⁠—through this part I love. I desire. I cry. I laugh. I live. They say love is life. But, my love is a crime. My love is unnatural. My love is abnormal. My love is impure.

Only if they got a chance is look at that part of me⁠—that very specific part of me. They will know. They will understand. How naturally my love springs out when I look at her. How pure my admiration is when I brush her hair. It's not anything I choose to be, but it is something that I am and if I ever had a chance to choose, I would choose this every time.

I will live—for how long I do not know—but until I am alive, I will never let anyone chop off that part of me that loves and desires by putting a label of "phase". Because love is not a crime. Crime is malice and disgrace and when there is a disgrace, there is no love. Love is only pure. The purest, like her unforgettable, mink brown eyes.

They cannot condemn me and my love because their script of platitude lacks the intention of acceptance and is rather full of manufacturing beings into their thraldom. And, those who claim that is script is designed by the Creator. To those—I say—I am, too, a creation of that Creator. The part that loves is also the creation of that Creator. And, I am honored to be created with this part within me that can love and hope oh-so-purely and effortlessly.

Believe I am, my dear fellow humans, yours most sincerely, a human who just wants to love.

- Oizys.

29 June 2022

It's been a while. Long time, no see.

I have been thinking a lot and guilty-chilling a lot these days. But, in the last week, I applied for a job and researched a postgraduate program that I can force myself to be interested in. I am nervous, anxious, scared, and excited as my college graduation approaches. I have no safety net or concrete plan whatsoever. No lucid dreams about my future. Even if I get a job, how am I going to work? Or, if I apply to a postgraduate program, what will I do there besides hog seats and money and deprive a true scholar of a real opportunity? Everyone keeps asking, "What do you want? What is your dream? What is your goal? What are your aspirations?" The thing is... I do not know. People will say all sorts of things if you confess that, it's okay, you are young, and you have time to figure things out. But, the same people, five years later, will look down on you and tell you that you haven't made it yet.

As for the questions, what the heck do I want? I am just so devoid of sentience toward reality. So empty of the practicality of living a life. Who, if exposed, will be reduced to a dumb person with no real knowledge. How do you do things? How do you empathize and relate with people to build connections? How do you figure out what house you want to rent? How do you know what vegetables you want to buy and what food to make out of them? How do you decide what mobile phone to buy? How do you know what you want to study? How do you know if this university or this course is appropriate for you? Or, is this the job in which you want to build your career? Or, is this the profession that will be tagged as a formal identity? How do you break down and allocate your finances? How do you know whom to live with? How do you know who is good or who doesn't want to murder the gut out of you? Are people born with this? Do they receive information regarding all this from someone? Do they sit down and discuss it? If they do, what do they say? What do they talk about? How do they talk? I can never understand what to say. I hear words and listen to conversations, but I have the impression that all of this is ingress into a part of my brain that is a mix of apathy and ignorance.

Sometimes, I am tired of it. I am exhausted from worrying so much about all of this. Some days, I am so scared that I want to run away into non-existence, take off my skin, and get rid of this actuality. I do not want this. I have figured out what I do not want. This… is what I do not want. It is mentally taxing, and for what? For this world? For families, who talk over you and disregard you because you are not earning enough yet? For siblings, who sweet-talk and extract vulnerable feelings and emotions and then use them as ammunition when they fight? For friends, who fight the urge to not delete your number or exit the group because you are the only person they remember when they need something and you are the only person they can shamelessly ask for anything, even if you have just beat a deadly disease and they haven't bothered to ask how you are doing? For love,... well, it has never happened to me, so I cannot comment on that.

Then you look around. People are doing it. Someone has a reliable bunch. Someone is blessed with a family that built a home with bricks of love and safety. Someone is tying a thread of common law with a partner to spend a life together for the rest of their lives until something goes wrong. You think, how? Do you think, does every freaking feels this way or you are just completely freaking alone out here? You sit there, staring at your laptop screen. Bunch of tabs open. Juggling through applications, trying to squeeze out a statement of purpose, fake-build a research proposal, sugarcoating why you want a job just so, you get a tag of professional life and earn a bit of coin to pay the fine for non-con-sensually coming to this world, pay the tax for unwillingly existing in this society. Amidst all this, a tab of this webpage is open for a fortnight. Followers unsubscribe each day after waiting for long nights for an update from your side, messages lying unread from beautiful people. And, is a stark reminder that you cannot even remain consistent with an e-diary, and cannot even commit to two to five unknown yet indulgent and understanding accounts here.

Are you worthy of this food you eat? That your mother cooks with sweat? That your father buys with hard work? How are you even opening your mouth to swallow this fruit that so many people strive for but die because they cannot get it? But, you cannot even leave? Since you will be bombarded with questions to which you do not have any answers and why is that? Of course, because you do not know. They criticize you by pointing out how ungrateful you are, maugre having everything served on a platter accompanied with a glass of clean water. Because let’s accept it. It is so difficult to explain or open up about being sad for no reason. A mixture of guilt and heaviness. The floor crumbles under your feet, the world falls over your shoulders, and the baggage is milling your spine but your brain is unable to comprehend why? It takes a quick scan around and sees people with real struggles and bloody knuckles from a chain of unfeigned battles and it asks you why the heck are you sad?

- Oizys.

16 June 2022

I feel rather buoyant today.

I wore a new dress. Well, my sister bought this four-to-five years ago and never wore it. She was sorting her wardrobe out and found it. It doesn't fit her anymore, so she gave it to me. It fits me perfectly. Though it is a merchandise type with a quote written on it (which I am not a fan of), I like the color and the fit. So, I am keeping it.
I applied to a few more jobs today and did some proofreading.

I have been listening to some freak folk and freak-pop songs lately. I have noticed I am more drawn toward songs with female vocalists in the freak genre. There is a wonderful richness when a tone is seeping when the true and false folds are pulled taut by a gentlewoman, and with a silhouette of psychedelia, it is hauntingly beautiful. Soft and dreamy. Mellow and pleasant. Soulful and fresh. Pure and lyrical. Infectious and vintage. Gorgeous and wistful. It makes you feel nostalgic about a time that may not have existed in your life but has surely affected you. Of a time that never happened to you but has surely made you delirious in your seasonal peaks and troughs. Such a lilting voice with piercing words, when listened to while having a feeble soul and a vulnerable chunk of heart, might lead you towards a "greater hell, or to an oddly unsettling heaven."

Current favourites are Vashti Bunyan, Broadcast.

Today's mood: settling, soft and seasonal.

- Oizys.

14 June 2022

The fourteenth day of June.

I have many thoughts but nothing to write. Nothing that I want to jot down. There is nothing that I want to write here that I would like to read in a few years to feel something.
But, since I have made it clear to myself that I will try to be consistent here, I will make sure to write something or other. 
There are no work leads available or foreseeable.
The current landscape in the folk household is improving and coming to normal standards. 
I still constantly work around eggshells and try to maintain low contact.
I have also not been able to proofread, actively apply for work, or write here properly for the past few days. I am all drained out after all the havoc. I have no imagination left, nor any creativity with words either. Back to square one. 
I also turned the diary into private mode, for what reason I do not know. I want people to read me but not analyze or judge me. I want people to see me but not recognize me. I want people to hear me but not think about me. I think I am scared of being discovered, but at the same time, I desperately want to be known.
It is so perplexing to feel empty and at the same time feel constricted, like something is stuck inside. I am tired of reminding myself that I am actually alive and breathing. I have to zone myself in by putting my hands on a firm surface and pressing the tips of my fingers to remind myself that this body of mine is working.

Today's mood: L'Ennui.

- Oizys.

09 June 2022

The ninth day of June.

 

There is no shift in the emotional landscape of the house or my mind. Eyes, head, and limbs. All sore, sore and sore. From crying and writhing. I reached yet another lower point today while digging this etching ground of soul smeared with tallow and grease from all the inner butchery in the past few days. Every day I break a bit more and drop down a bit further. And, I look around. To find I have nothing to hold onto, no one to lean on to. I am unable to talk because I feel unworthy of words in the society of capable. I am unable to swallow food from a table that has no contribution from my skills and labor. I am unable to take space in my household without the feeling of contrition.

 

I haven't spoken since the evening before yesterday. But, my mind has a mouth of its own which has been screaming ceaselessly. Even with no spoken words, the thoughts are deafening and my head is blurred. This inexorable array of colliding emotions and crashing relationships. I do not know what I need anymore. I do not what will stop this cluster foxtrot of my omnishambles. I do not know what will change this one-way never-ending descending staircase of life.

 

And, while I hit the nail and tumble down these stairs and my head was almost there to hit rock bottom, I came across this post somewhere on the internet:

 

"Not everyone gets a happy ending. Suffering does not automatically mean it will get better in the future. Sometimes it will just get worse until you die. You can very well be that unlucky person."

 

I often think it will get better. I will shed off all the toxicity, and run away to a more sanguine place maybe. Find better people to surround me with. I will stabilize my emotion. Grab control over my life. And, share these tears with my peers like a tumultuous intellectual journey of mine over a cup of tea. But, the thing is... The stark reality is that no one seeks to be around someone who is so eaten up and gutted by their myriad of woe. No one chooses to be alongside someone who has denied the extended hands of joy. Hence, until I can reassemble these fragments into at least a significant corporeal, I'm doomed to float through existence, looking for hanging fruits for survival and finally perish by submersion.

- Oizys.

08 June 2022

Eight-day of June and it is horrible.

Yesterday was dreadful. There was another fight and I completely collapsed, emotionally and mentally. And, in some ways, physically too from all the crying and screaming. I am quailing at the thought of another year under this roof and if I don't get a job after that, I might be stuck here. I won't be able to survive any more of this. Constant derision and disturbances have shaken me to the core. That is why zero prospects of work leads have driven me crazy and that is what I have been crying here about in my previous entries. I am unable to function like a normal or reasonable human being. I am unable to create thoughts. No imagination. It seems as if my subconsciousness has desensitized. I have lost the sense of taste for any kind of desire or want. I do not crave anything. Passion is sitting dead on a chair, strangulated by constant headaches and bitterness.

I cried like an infant animal, legs stuck somewhere in a dark ditch. Scratching my arms to pieces. Trying to get out of something. I often stare at the mirror when I cry. I stare at the helplessness in my eyes. The impotence of my body to fight for me. Slipping on my tears into this horrendous existential crisis, I get trapped by my dearth of everything. I have nothing yet I feel constrained to live further like a punishment for being born. I found myself begging. To whom? I don't know. Just, pure shameless begging to be extricated from the jaws of a pathetic life.

Today has been nothing but an extension of yesterday's agony. Consuming every single bone of my body. Making me sick of my humanness. Contriving me into feeling all the grim and grisly points of life. It is nauseating to even exist in this flesh. I just keep hoping some egress to break open. Then, I can leave this mortal coil behind to wind up on its own.

I am unable to swallow food, and I can only remember a few words of poetry.

"We lose June. We lose July. In
August we look in mirrors and
want to die."
- Kim Addonizio, from "The Women", Wild Nights: New and Selected Poems.

Today's mood: ...

- Oizys.

06 June 2022

The sixth day of the June and yesterday was the first day I missed an entry here. How quickly I somersaulted on my own words, is mortifying. The day before yesterday, I sewed some really big words here about crawling my way forward but, last night I just let go completely and fell into the rabbit hole of tears and fears. I failed my words which is not surprising. Yesterday, I finished the marathon, made my submission and I started to watch this new TV show until I realized I was just breaking down continuously. Getting cut off by multiple self-directed mini-manic episodes, I got tired and shut the show instead.

I woke up this morning but couldn't find a single reason or a work to get up to. Have been stifling my breakdowns all day today, and it is becoming an icy volcano bubbling with teary lava. The reason you ask, but I do not know. It is so difficult to pinpoint what crippled my crust so austere that led to this breakthrough of magma of woe and anguish. Every time, I go to pieces, it feels like chambers of embers and reservoirs of lava burst open and floods my mind. Then, I spend days dusting off the powdery ash and wiping the unguent remains before it runs around and compacts my mind and entire corporeal into a boulder of self-abhorrence. But, no matter what I do to make myself believe that I have undone this caldera, I can not escape the destruction that has been done leaving behind a trail of minacious zones.

I will spend the night doing some proofreading. I received another report with some good results that reflect my progress.

Today's mood: tensed, frenzied, and discomfort.

- Oizys.