The best thing about keeping a diary is the honesty.
You have to pretend all the time in front of the world. Act appropriate, filter your words so that people won’t judge you, filter your words so that the truth doesn’t hurt people, act as if being emotional is creepy. Being sad is dull and boring. You have to act all cheerful and interesting and talk only if you have good things to say about a situation. Otherwise you are being negative. Talk about yourself and you are being selfish. Listen to others all the time and you are being submissive.
So easy to forget your true self, your true thoughts in the midst of all this. But keeping a diary let’s you stay in touch with your true self. No more hidden emotions that even you are no longer aware of. Whatever you pretend to be in front of the world, you are still honest with yourself. And I think that is the single most important quality that every person should have. Honesty with themselves. Acceptance of all your own flaws, your own embarrassing emotions, desires, and needs. Acceptance of what is good about you and also what is bad about you. As you see it. Not as somebody else sees it.
Acceptance helps you see the reality of the situation and work accordingly. I have seen way too many people lying to themselves and doing things that confuse them in the long run. Because they don’t understand why they are hurting, what they are missing. They compromise with themselves, switch off that thing inside that reminds them of what they really want and pretend that they are happy with the way things are.
Yet that thing inside never stays silent. You can try your best. You can ignore and try to enjoy every day of your life. But that thing inside will call you again. If you listen to it, you will try to do the right thing. If you don’t listen and suppress it, you will not only not do the right thing, but the regret you feel for it, will always be there inside even though you have forgotten or refuse to remember why.
I am in a very good mood since the last two days. I am being able to acknowledge that there is something beautiful, something wonderful about every living person. Yes, I mean EVERY living person.
I know this sounds strange coming from a paranoid person like me. But I am starting to think that every person has a role to play in the world and in your story. The evil abuser, narcissist, sociopath, controlling mother, abusive husband, all of them were there in your life to change you in a certain way, to take you ahead in your story.
I feel today the need to nurture the best I can see in every person I speak to. I have a feeling that it will lead to something good. Not for the person, but for me. The feeling that I don’t have to live in suspicion but can love everyone and give everyone reason to smile is very liberating.
So does this mean I want to take the risk again? I think it is more on the lines of what one friend with narcissistic personality disorder under treatment had told me. Don’t change yourself, but define your boundaries. So you will know when someone tries too hard to get past your boundary. All you would really have to do is ensure that no one gets past it. Don’t avoid, just know where to draw the line. Protect yourself but don’t avoid living because you fear getting hurt. Don’t tolerate when things turn bad, but don’t avoid the situation altogether. Just learn to raise your voice once in a while and fight for yourself.
I think these happy thoughts are a result of my good mood today 🙂 I don’t really know how long this will last, but I hope it lasts longer and brings real change in me 🙂
The bottom line is ………….. SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST ……… The ruthless truth. Crib and complain all you want, but if you don’t like something, you have to change it. There is no other way. If you don’t change it then you are just weak and nature will eliminate you. So better just decide to fight because surviving is YOUR RIGHT!
For the pain you have done her.
She was not happy to see you,
You reminded her of her pain….
You were the cause, you were the cause of hurt for her,
You are not good,
Someone was hurt because you did not care,
I cannot smile now, because I don’t deserve the happiness,
I feel so alone, what have I done?
Help me, will you?
Accept my reason,
Tell me it is going to be good,
That by gones are by gones,
Don’t matter now,
But don’t they?
She was hurt when she saw me,
I could see it in her eyes,
The hesitation, the desire to avoid me,
She knows, that I stole what was hers,
I had not wished it,
But she knows I am the one,
It does not go down well with her,
I am such a pain,
And she is not wrong,
I deserve to be despised,
And cringe in pain……….
It was full moon. Summer. Around two in the night. The air was still. Outside the trees stood dark and still, an occasional light breeze stirring a few leaves, but you would notice it only if you were watching since a long time.
And the longer you watched the trees, the more convinced you would get that they had life, and secrets. They knew, they understood a lot of things. But for some reason they preferred to be on their own, watching from a distance, pretending innocence.
The moon shone into the room through the open window. She sat there at the window, her head resting on the palm of her right hand, elbow on the white marble window sill. Her left hand hand half hanging out of the window as if to catch invisible raindrops. In the silver moonlight, her skin otherwise dusky seemed pale and white. She sat like that in her room, door closed to shut her for the time being from what went on in the rest of the house. Her eyes watched the shadow of the leaves, on the ground three floors below, through the gap between her fingers. She was a girl of twelve.
Outside her room the voices had ceased. There was no more shouting, no more noise of breaking glass, no more whining. She felt heavy. Something inside her wanted to sob bitterly, loudly, wail through the quiet neighbourhood. But she sat still. Willing the tears to come. The sob struggled up her throat but got lost somewhere on the way before it could reach her eyes. The tears wouldn’t come.
And she continued to sit there. On the surface, her face looked calm, though her eyes glinted in the moonlight, giving away the rage that she felt within. Her eyes were now focused on the palm of her left hand. They followed the pattern of lines on it. A dark line ran down from the top left and stopped somewhere before it reached the bottom right. She couldn’t stop looking at it………………
Fresh red blood trickled out as she finished drawing a shallow slit over the line with a blade. She bent her palm a little to feel the pain – the thin red line was slowly dotted by small drops of blood till it was transformed into a thick uneven line and blood trickled down the side of her hand.
At the same time, two little drops of tears trickled down the sides of her eyes as she cringed in pain. And then she wept. Softly. Once she gasped loudly for breath. But she shut her mouth with her free hand to stifle the sound. Allowing herself only to wail softly.
For a long time she let the tears flow out noiselessly till her eyes were finally dry again — and the blood had stopped soaking the handkerchief she held against her palm.
Then she hid away the handkerchief that she would dispose off later, pulled a blanket over herself and shut her eyes to get some sleep before another miserable day would begin.
(I have reposted this from my own blog at blogspot http://www.itsnevertheend.blogspot.com)