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.

 

I'm Done

I can't even drag myself anymore. I'm so done. I'm no goal to look forward to. I have no options to choose from. I don't know what I want. I don't know what I like. I don't know why or for what I am moving forward. Each day, it is just the same chores and sleep. Hollow. Empty. Nothing to wake up to. And just heaviness to sleep on. All these parched parts of my life are desperately squeezing for water out of me. But, I have nothing to give them. Nothing to quench the dryness of this soul. 

- Oizys.

Descending Into The Dichotomy of Ignorance & Apathy

People in my life have been telling me something in me has changed. Something integral.
I lost interest in getting up in the morning all of a sudden.
I did not care about the mess or the clothes strewn around.
I did not want to look at the marks dropping or opportunities passing by.
I stopped caring about patches of dandruff and pimples.
I stopped taking pictures and capturing moments. Stopping altogether from making moments
I stopped listening to music. I stopped dancing to music.
I stopped talking. No thoughts came to mind anymore.
My creative ability waned. Words were no longer a constant companion.
Blank papers became a regular occurrence. I stopped penning.
A few pages of reading became a chore.
Friends moved on.
Cousins and siblings moved away.
Life walked away.
I descended into the dichotomy of ignorance and apathy.  

- Oizys.

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.