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.

My Wistful Fantasy

We all fantasize. We all have some comfort fantasy stories to run to when we are done dealing with the day or when we are in an uncomfortable social situation where we are surrounded by aunts and uncles we know but we don't actually know. I have a thousand of them. A labyrinthine of daydreams and scenarios that I can escape into whenever I need a mental break or a pick-me-up. Some of them are simple, like imagining myself lounging on a tropical beach with a cold drink in my hand. Others are more complex, involving intricate plotlines and characters that I've created in my mind.

- Oizys.

Curse of Banality - A Poem

I have realised there's a curse laid upon me.
A curse of being banal.
A curse of turning anything I touch banal.
A curse of banality.
It took me a lot to come to my own.
And when I did.
I was disappointed.
But, I was not astonished.
Because the journey itself was also cursed.
A path of unaesthetic and unoriginal struggles.
A fight of idleness and illogic.
A yearn for nothingness and a sudden end.
A race between ignorance and apathy.
A curse of banality inked with prosaic language on my forehead.
Reminds me of a quote I had saved recently,
"...an unbearably tense and disorienting paradox that underscores everyday life in a working-class environment—on the one hand it’s an abrasive and in-your-face world, yet, at the same time, much of it seems extrinsic and is perpetually uninvolving. One is relentlessly overwhelmed and understimulated all at the same time.
~ Claire-Louise Bennett, Checkout 19"

- Oizys.

You, Who Reads Me

People who read me. Who read my diary. I want to share something with you. I am mostly on that side of this situation where I read diaries and letters. I am a huge fan of this genre. I love reading books which are in form of diaries, journals and letters. As you all must have seen from one of my previous entries, I had quoted one such letter.

A question for you all:-

I used to have an account before as well. I have some entries backed up and some other manual diary entries too. Do you want me to upload those old entries here? They are mostly diary excerpts, prose poetry, and a bit too much broken poems.

- Oizys.