Once upon a time, a couple of ducks were waiting patiently for their new baby ducks (ducklings) to hatch out of their eggs. Although all of the eggs looked the same, when they hatched, one specific duckling looked very different than all of the others. Yes, the other ducklings weren’t identical, but this duckling was very different. His neck was weirdly longer, his legs were weirdly darker, and even the color of his feathers was weirdly unusual. The mother and father ducks were so surprised, but they did their best to love him just like any other of their ducklings. The other ducklings, however, weren’t so nice to him. They never stopped making fun of him and avoiding him, and they called him “the ugly duckling”. As they grew up, our duckling tried his best to fit in by trying to act and look like like all of the normal ducklings. But despite all of his efforts, he never succeeded. The more he grew up the more obvious the differences became. He didn’t look like the others, didn’t walk or swim like them, and he didn’t sound like them. He always hated himself for being an outcast. Continue reading →
(I wrote this on the 28th of Jan 2017 as an attempt to describe my state of mind around the end of a phase of depression, where the dark thoughts are still felt, but not as effective.)
Warning: objects in mirror are closer than they appear.
Bad memories appear closer than they really are, good times seem rarer. True friends seem fewer, haters multiplied. Darkness seems endless, light like a split second. Pain feels stronger, happiness abstract. Hurtful voices sound louder, praise and support insincere. Misery abundantly immanent, laughs lost in oblivion. Everyone disappoints, kindness is invisible. Nights are colder, our hearts made of stone.
I’ve always found the semicolon ( ; ) to be very interesting. Yes, it looks like a half-breed between a comma and a colon, but it’s not that. It’s how we use it that interests me. Particularly the usage that the Oxford dictionary describes as “a pause that is not as short as a comma, but not as final as a full stop”. Why would we need something like that? Continue reading →
I wanted everything I never had
Like the love that comes with light
I wore envy and I hated that
But I survived
I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go
Where the wind don’t change
And nothing in the ground can ever grow
No hope, just lies
And you’re taught to cry into your pillow
~ Alive, Sia
A weird kind of loneliness:
For years I had no good ways of expressing my agony. I wasn’t even allowed to cry in my bedroom when I needed to. I didn’t even have a bedroom of my own, as I shared one with my younger brother. The number of nights in which I wanted to sob or scream but suppressed my voice as not to be heard are just countless. That was regarding the space I had in my home, or rather lacked.
Warning: I decided it was time to write a short summary of my sad life and suffering in a single series of entries, the only expected result is a very dark collection of painful stories. You’re strongly discouraged from reading this.