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Been two hours now.
Not a sentence.
Not a single word.
All I could manage to do in the past two hours was scribble. Scribble and scratch all over my diary. (Thanks to this old fashioned way of writing, atleast I was able to do something.)
This is weird. This is so not me. When I sat down with my stationery I knew what I wanted to write about. But every time I tried with a fresh line to start, my words failed me, my thoughts betrayed me. I couldn’t find my focal point. I felt lost. I felt BLANK.
And then I was restless.
Restless about the fact that I wasn’t able to do anything. I felt captivated. I felt chained. And the funny part- NO APPARENT REASON!
Or maybe there was a reason. Maybe it was my heart that was playing the game of denial. Game of unacceptance. Because sometimes the truth is hurtful. And subconsciously we’re aware of that ‘truth’ being a fact. And the fact having the power of inflicting hurt.
But it’s funny how we try to conceal the ‘truth’, the ‘fact’ and thus the ‘hurt’.
We’re hurting, but we’re quiet. We’re whining inside, but we put up a smile. Isn’t that hypocrisy?! Though with oneself, but it is.
But unless enough strength is gathered, immense courage piled up, the self-hypocrisy would overpower. And I have no shame in admitting that I haven’t found that courage yet. The courage to acknowledge, at times, what my heart really feels deep down, to question the acts and things which hurt me, to let it all free from its own captivity.
But even then, I am okay! I am okay with my hypocrisy because I have the urge to reach out. Though silently, but I am trying to not let my happiness be arrested by somebody else’s acts. Though feeling captivated, I’m still fluttering my wings to be the free bird again.
P.S. To any reader who found this write up disappointing, I apologise. But I had to clear my head. Bear with me.
Until next time folks.