I don't even remember when i wrote this one. i just found the page of the notebook on which I'd put this stuff down. from the tone, i'd say i wrote it sometime in my fourth year, quite possibly a lil' before some exams. it's quite snively and pathetic, and by no means indicative of my current state of mind, but i put it up so as to remind me that there are times when the shit seems perilously close to hitting the fan, but those times are quite trivial when looked at in hindsight...
It’s there somewhere. I can’t figure it out. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there. Somewhere among the confused thoughts in my head, it’s there. Playing with me, mocking my inability to discover it. Confusions, distractions, voices, clouds. I cannot reach it. It wants to get out, but it can’t. What is it that I want to write? What do I want to let out?
Wasted. Every opportunity wasted. There is no forward, no backward. Everything is suspended, pushing my paranoia to the inevitable conclusion. A dream of greatness. Unformulated, unarticulated, unplanned. Wishful thinking. I cannot live on thoughts forever. But there is no action. Every moment is one that is wasted. I am going nowhere. I don’t even know where I want to go. I almost look for the pit in which I fall. I do not avoid it, I practically seek it. Self-destructive, pointless. My ‘potential’ remains undiscovered, unused. How can I expect others to understand, when I don’t myself? The noises grow louder. Music, voices, the rain, all of it serves to cloud out reason, purpose. All around me are testaments to time wasted. Time better employed elsewhere. A life better lived otherwise. The words, the laughter of my neighbour serves only to frighten me more. The smoke blown into my face only reminds me of the time flying by, of the countdown inevitably leading to the end. Misery and pointlessness are my constant companions. A hope that God will bail me out springs up now and then. Sometimes strong, Sometimes laughable. If God helps those who help themselves, then it seems my doom is inevitable.
When will I wake up?