Success Is Weird

It feels so weird to go to the next level, right? You have worked hard for it. Sleepless nights. All the running around. The juggling. All for something. And, then when you get it, it feels weird. People say it is just self-doubt creeping in. Some say, you are not in the same place anymore and the new place is just... new and you need to start getting used to it. And, when you are there, the easiest option is to take a step back to where you previously were. That itch in your foot. Ugh. I start feeling anxious. Do I deserve this? Do I do this or that? Am I doing it right? That constant itch in my foot had numbed my entire leg and I am so, so tired. So tired of feeling incompetent in my own head. So tired of underestimating myself. But, I can't stop. Because the moment I stop, the other set of thoughts wakes up on the other foot. And, the cycle continues. I feel constrained and drained. You give everything you have just to worry if you deserve it when you finally get it.

- Oizys.

The Urge To Erase Everything And Go Away

I have this overwhelming urge to erase everything, delete every picture, delete every number, cut every tie, and go away to someplace else where I am alone and new. I do not know if it is the itch to get out of my comfort zone or the yearning to leave my uncomfortable life. People say you need to get out of your comfort zone. But what if you never had one? And you have been working really hard to create one for yourself. Then, why leave? Why not stay there? Anyway, about this urge: I don't know what to do with it. I often wonder why I think the way I do. Is it because I have not much space around me between this half bed and a small table? Am I not able to grow? Am I not scared enough? Or am I just running away because I am paranoid? My inner self is screaming at me to run away from everyone and everything. Now, let me assure you. While I am thinking like this, I have zero intentions of hurting my near and dear ones. In fact, I often think I should go away from them for their betterment. I look at my father, and I feel like I am a burden. I sit with my mother, and I feel like she will finally be at peace when I leave the house forever. I talk to my sister, and I feel like she is just unwillingly fulfilling her duty as my elder sister to look after me. I go out with my friends, and I feel like I am constantly holding them back from having fun and from achieving more. I simply do not feel at ease. And when I come back to my spot, there is nothing but an empty me. A phone with no texts waiting to be answered. A laptop that has no mail waiting to be read There is no list of books to be read. There are no movies downloaded to watch. Nothing. I search for something, just something—maybe a hand to reach out to. But, nothing. The hollowness is jarring. I want to escape this vacuum. But how? How do you escape nothing? I try adding things, but they all dissolve. All dissolve into my banality. Is it an urge to run away from being a burden on others or on my own self?

- Oizys.

An Orange - A Poem

Some entertain, but I follow your clay-like path.
Here I am, a warm brain loitering in the university of elixir.

Conversations of precisions, the recitation
of curtains, we
call an aquatic necklace.
Cinnamon and pure father,
which is a silent map of directions
three hundred, or too many to count, rejoiced
on a bed or in the warm land
directions of the leg, a calculation in your tails.
Halfway.
For river was rabid and morally positive.

- Oizys

{I love writing. I have been through so many phases in my life, but one thing that has remained constant is my love for writing. Well, another could be my dream to become a writer. No matter how mediocre, cringy, or banal my words can be, it has never made me give up. I would read more and try to write better. Some days, I fantasised about writing stories and novels. Some days, I would dream of publishing my poetry in magazines here and there and then compiling them into one. Some days, I would dream of becoming an unknown diarist whose diaries get published posthumusly. But words have been constant. It is true that most of these dreams are nowhere near becoming true, but it is not a crime to dream.}

I'm A Spectator Of My Own Life

I'm an idle spectator of my own life. I am watching everything from afar. Just passing by. Just happening. Just breaking down. I would love to take control and do things. But, I am so scared. Of what, if you ask? I do not know. Of people? Of circumstances? I do not know. I just feel so burdened. Like, I have withdrawn from something. I have no say in something that's entirely mine. I am observing but not functioning. I am in the spotlight but the background is the focus. It is been so long since I have been in focus, I have forgotten how reality feels like. It is a strange, hallucinating sensation when I am jolted back into reality after zoning out for a very long time. I can touch my life but not life. Like there is some disconnection. Like when you hold a hot cup of tea but the hotness doesn't affect you anymore. I just sit here and watch the small parts of my life unfold with very mild curiosity. And, once in a while, there is a lockdown. I am unable to think or speak. My brain gets thoughts but I am unable to decipher them. Or I am unable to construct sentences or think of words to express them. It feels as if, my life is passing by yet I am sitting in the same spot. On the same rock. On the sideline. Silently watching it just... go.

- Oizys.

Scared To Desire

I am so scared right now. This is one of those typical times that determines what will happen with my life, if not in its entirety, for the next ten years. And this is the first time I have wanted something so badly in my life. It has nothing to do with other people. No one decided it for me. No one influenced it or directed me toward it. I did not have to ask my sister if it was right for me. I did not have to ask my parents if I could have this. You know, it was one of those things that sparked something special in you. Something you did not know you were looking for. And, when you find it, you feel like you have found everything you have ever prayed for. There is a very brief, soft moment of happiness. That one-minute of sweet calmness until the stinging starts. Then you just burn. I was so happy. Then I got scared. Because if I don't get it, I will feel a lot worse than the happiness I have now. With the weak heart and low self-confidence I have, I will probably give up everything. But I do not want to give this up. And that's why I am scared. This could define one. I'd like to take a course at a university. It could help me achieve my dreams and goals. I know, after learning what it is, it might all sound very dramatic, but it is what it is. It is important to me because of my circumstances and situation. This is what I want. But, at the same time, I am so hyperaware of my mediocrity that I am just scared—if I do not get it, what will I do? Where will I go? It has conquered my entire mind so that I can't plan any other things in case I do not get into that university, which makes me anxious. Because, now if I do not get it, I have no other safety net or plan B. You know, one of those things where you get so strangely possessive that this is all you want and you can't see anything else but that? I may sound like a geek or a nerd or a dork or whatever the word is for talking like this about an university, but... it is the first time I am deciding what I want to study. Previously, in school, it was either my parents or, in college, it was my sister. But, for the first time, I know what I want. I have even connected with loads of people from there and started learning the language of the country in which the university is located. I told almost everyone about it. It is oddly settling. It just feels right. And I don't know what I would do if I didn't get in. It would get so difficult to get in the next year because it would require coming all the way back to ask for letters, to ask for documents, and to stop paying loans. It is a weird and difficult situation, which I cannot fully explain to someone but which I wish I could. I wish I could explain to someone how much this means to me and how difficult it is.

- Oizys.

A New Year Entry For Myself

A new year acknowledgement to me. '23.

-  Oizys.

Do You Think I Can Also Make It?

First of all, I donot know why I put the title in second person as if I am talking to a person. But, do you think I can make it? Fulfil my dream? Live my passion? Do what I like?

- Oizys.

How Do I Give Up?

How do I give everything up and escape? No single thing seems to be fruitful or meaningful to the very least. It all seems vague and hollow. No single thing piques me anymore. I have been dragging myself like a dead soul for god knows how long. It keeps getting worse and worse if not just the same. My knuckles and knees, scraped to the bones from all the dragging. I don't know for how much longer I can keep dragging this. I am desperate to leave it. Drop it. But, I don't know how. I'm unable to leave it. No matter how hard I try, it is just too mazey. Stuck in my hands. No matter how hard I try to wash it off, it just doesn't stop. How do I give up.

But, all I know is. I need to leave. I can feel myself at the edge of insanity. One little nudge and I will lose it. I need to escape. Run away to somewhere else far away or to non-existence. Anywhere but here. I need to go. My left foot itches. The left side of my back twitches. My body rotting every passing second in anxiety and jittery. I need to escape and I need to run away.  

- Oizys.

Kafkaesqued In Life

"Suffered much in my thoughts." (Franz Kafka. From a diary entry written c. November 1919.)

"Dreams flooded over me; I lay weary and hopeless in my bed." (Franz Kafka. The Blue Octavo Notebooks, 1917-1919.)

"I'll shut myself off from everyone to the point of insensibility. Make an enemy of everyone, speak no one." (Franz Kafka. Diaries.)

"I've spent all my life resisting the desire to end it." (Franz Kafka.)

"How many days have again gone silently by?" (Franz Kafka. Diaries.)

"I feel so lost among these entirely strange people." (Franz Kafka. Diaries.)

"The relief of giving in to destruction." (Franz Kafka. Diaries, 190-1923.)

A few years ago, I came across an YouTube video about Kafkaesque. I discovered Franz Kafka. And then I discovered his diaries. Since then, I have been wondering how do I stop relating to his excerpts. When I started reading his diaries, I found a part of me wandering in between those parts. A part of me I have been searching. A part of me I have been looking. A part of me that was sick of life. That was tired of existing. And when I read Kafka's words. I realised my desire to meet the end of my existence. I realised an innate need in me to just stop. The word "Kafkaesque" deeply resonates in me now. Even if you wish to escape with causing absolutely no harm to anyone, there will a labyrinthine like sprial staircase waiting for you to cross. When you stare at it angirly while people whisper "calm down", your body starts to feel the hopelessness, the annoyance towards of absolute absurdity in life, bottomless pit of nothing but failures and disappointment. Every day, every night, the words from the copy of the Metamorphosis appears infront of your eyes, "Why don’t I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget all this foolishness."

The Aesthetic Cottagecore Fantasy (A Comforting Lie)

Green garden, handpicked berries, her company, her soft white cotton dress, pouring orthodox tea, with freshly baked bread and sweet butter, some wine in a cup, in the backyard of our cottage, the soil and herbs growing and their earthy scents, humming sapphic poetries to each other, collecting flowers for each other in a woven basket, whipping cream to bake yet another strawberry cake.

Ah, the view from the kitchen. When you peel oranges. When you brew tea. When you wake up, groggy eyes and walk into the kitchen for a cup of soothing coffee and a warm stream of sunlight hugs you a good morning. The kitchen window. When you stare outside at the sunset painting your kitchen orange, while you stir your vegetable soup. Or toast your bread and cheese. Or bake your bread. Stare at the empty street at night, bees and insects humming near the streetlight bulb. The kitchen window. The window to the core of a content and well-fed soul.

Is this a dream? Are we in a dream? Or, are we living the dream? And, whatever it is, hope we never escape it.

- Oizys.