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Weeping Garbage Can

Weeping Garbage Can

ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰਕੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਭੁੱਲ ਜਾਓ ❤️
Oct 31, 2018
316
Hi, I wrote on my inner state with all its "fun" feelings and thoughts somewhat recently, and thought that perhaps posting them on here could help in some way. I truly don't know, but I guess its presence here is better than hiding away in a doc somewhere? The wording might be weird, this was all written in one go with a charged, idiotic mind. Please don't feel compelled to read!
 
Weeping Garbage Can

Weeping Garbage Can

ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰਕੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਭੁੱਲ ਜਾਓ ❤️
Oct 31, 2018
316
1. Stress constricts my chest, pulling my center downward towards the pavement. Viewing the excitement of others brings out happiness, yet an indifference that hides the pain taints the clean canvas as a drop of black ink. What of my existence? All ideas and possessions pulling at my heart string are too weak to carry: they must go. My hands forcefully rip the culmination of a past, that took and gave and left, to nothingness. My mind is aware of the empty chaos it spouts, yet the useless, torturous words keep on stretching the fragile ball of sanity left. My heart is unaffected by the rainbow of love and happiness. Fear and hopelessness and indifference and anger murk the waters and refuse to be drained. My body, full of survival needs, leeches the remaining love of those who swore to create a lovely, contributing lady and bring her to life. What conspired instead? What took root, only to detour and wilt? Of my path, i witnessed taunts, judgments, aspirations, messages full of love and anger, bystanders and proactive personalities, divides, fights, tears, hugs, kisses, and ideas. I have desired many different things; those seem of long, long ago. I have since given up on keeping up with the trivialities, feeding fire into one side or the other, simply subscribing to a passionate self identity and self worth. I do not know of many things; rather, I "wing" and "dance" and "laugh" and "observe" my way, knowing that my view is biased and temporary and extremely narrow sighted (unless those words provide more delusion?) and perhaps clown like altogether. I recognize my extreme sensitivity to even a single word uttered. The world has presented itself to me as a drama show: one that many create additional conflicts, highs and lows, and overall stress that I'm too tired to even care about. The words "pathetic" and "lazy" and "ungrateful" come to my mind, bluntly explaining my regression with a chop of a knife. People's advice fills my ears, appearing as a righteous, authoritative box of chocolates meant to sooth me, yet turns my stomach inside out and messes up with an already fragile being. Work piles up in blank pages, reflecting the 'pathetic' void already inside me.
 
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Weeping Garbage Can

Weeping Garbage Can

ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰਕੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਭੁੱਲ ਜਾਓ ❤️
Oct 31, 2018
316
2. I have been reduced to flimsy hollowness. Previous light and joy has been sucked out; a void is all that remains. A forced actress, I feel like. My mind is devoid, empty, and useless. The shoulders attached to my body are frail, unwilling and unable to shoulder even the most minor pain that exists. There is no more will to try. Past motivations and words spoken and tried efforts have since reduced to dust. Fear surrounds me on all sides, with no room for my hollowed soul to flee. Sleep has become my escape, the place where I don't have to keep on fighting. The blame is all on myself; it is me who feels out of place, "spoiled", and not made for this world, for this life. It is me to be at fault; my hands lack the strength to grab at more, to try for something, to bring upon light so desperately needed. I am reminded about what I'll have to face, all the expectations, and how lucky I have it. I am well, well aware of all these opinions and ideas and facts: strings of human thought. My instinct is to shut others out, protect others from sinking on the same ship that has lowered and lowered, waiting for the water to start filling in. Detached observations is skill left over, one that my vessel can still complete. All else is seemingly too much for me. Headaches rage when simple conversation starts, my heart sinks every time there is cruelty; helplessness seeps my bones and I am paralyzed. It is too much for me. It is all too much for me. Love is untouchable; I am not compatible with any form, it seems. People try and try but all I sense is distrust and an eventual blowout waiting to happen. I'm waiting for screams, hits, punishments, insults. Perhaps I put on a face. I do not know how to do so otherwise. Participating has proven too painful to me. Calmness, although my brain screams that I do not deserve it, are all I can look for, all I can fill myself with. Voices are too loud, strikes are too strong, and so much information is incomprehensible to my tiny, cluttered mind. I try and try until I feel like i cannot anymore. Every move is pathetic. Another's presence is like a battle I need to get prepared for. Leaving my room is a trek devoid of safety greatly needed.
 
Weeping Garbage Can

Weeping Garbage Can

ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰਕੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਭੁੱਲ ਜਾਓ ❤️
Oct 31, 2018
316
3. My life feels so unnecessary. 'What's the point to me breathing', I ask. I claim to know absolutely zilch. However, in all my weakness and overall unpreparedness for dealing with the "real" world full of chaos to my ever so sensitive, tired to the bones, chaotic, useless self, I wonder if any of this was ever meant to be. I hate seeing all the pain and negativity. I hate witnessing it, and feeling all that guilt and hurt and pain afterwards. I want the best for everyone, and I do not understand why things are so complicated (at least to my silly mind). I guess it's "real", but this only makes me want to peace out. I stand idle, not wanting to take part in any of this unnecessary madness that makes my heart ache and my brain hurt. I am consumed with pathetic, it seems. My brain is pathetic. My heart is pathetic. What I "know" is pathetic. Yes, these are all words, but it accurately describes what exactly I am experiencing at the time I write this. I'm mad. I'm pissed. At what, I truly do not know. I guess all of this pain and sorrow. All I want to is put everyone out of of their struggle and create peace where people can choose what they desire. Where love that helps more than harms is free to blossom. But the reality of the situation seems much more complicated and intricate than a single idealistic dream. This is why I feel so much pain. How do I gather myself and participate in this madness, staying detached and filled with tranquility, so at least no more harm radiates from me. Survival is the law of the land, it seems (again, through my completely deluded set of lenses). Those skills lack in me. Killing and fighting and hard work are toughness I do not even comprehend having. What do I live for? Those who claim to love me and be there for me (at least most of them) don't even know half of it, do not seem capable or willing to hold me hand and carry all this heaviness with me, or just make things worse (for me) when simply trying to be happy themselves. I see myself as a monster, taking and taking, yet weak and ungrateful. What after death? What can I possibly handle that awaits me after I leave this room, let alone the only thing my being knows: my life.
 
Weeping Garbage Can

Weeping Garbage Can

ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰਕੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਭੁੱਲ ਜਾਓ ❤️
Oct 31, 2018
316
4. My outward body is like a dog running ahead, pushing me forward while my mind pulls to stay still, but to no avail. My skills have deteriorated even more; all growth has stunted and remained dormant. Fear easily grasps at my inner vulnerabilities, propelling me into a dark room I'm too weak to even dream of escaping. Oh, all the guilt. All the fear. All the monetary triumph, but harsh falls willed at a phrase uttered, speech written, or image viewed. All leads back to my "loser" state; too stupid, selfish, fragile, and ignorant to even help this existence, let alone others that need SO much more help and attention and respect than my lazy bum can comprehend. My brain is filled with utter empty trash that is so defensive and latches onto any which gratifying thought it can. I do not see myself as worthy of any resources yet my body seeks them out. I want inner rest yet my body will not let me do so (at least not without MUCH force and fear and resistance first). I often want to become invisible so others don't have to look at me. I wish to be insignificant and not cherished by anyone, so people don't have to deal with the inner monster inside. An unreliable confusion has taken over my identity. I DO NOT KNOW. I DO NOT KNOW. My sight is filled by control, pain, and manipulation. I see the love between others, and root for them, but pain and betrayal and abuse and fights are always in the background. I feel so terrible to be in a world where my use of comforts affects others in a negative way. Yet I haven't even done anything (wow what a lovely person I am) I hate having egotistical thoughts that help nobody and are full of fallacies. It's always confusion with me :/ I so desire to wish everyone the best and then just drift away to peace and rest. I want that very much. But that to me, is undeserved. I deserve to stay up wake working and helping others. I deserve to fill a role in people's days and ultimately try to be at least a little bit kind and strong for those who have been treated with such cruelty. I will continue until my state has been so reduced that I truly don't feel able to stay conscious and do this life another day. Today I still can stand, so I guess I'll stay for now.
 
Weeping Garbage Can

Weeping Garbage Can

ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰਕੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਭੁੱਲ ਜਾਓ ❤️
Oct 31, 2018
316
5. A monster is inside, waiting till its ugly face will take over my heart and my brain. It has showed its claws once, leaving me in despair on what's transpired. Weak yet cruel, a zombie I will become as this entity takes over me. This vessel confines me, gluing me to a useless and painful time on the planet of water and soil. I maim sweet ears with a slip of tongue. My brain taunts me, aware of its downward spiral to mush. My heart breaks me, unable to bear the guilt of my role as a bystander in others suffering. A joyful moment arrives to bear fruit of my continued existence, yet soon I begin again in the monster of my own consciousness. I'm like a rag doll, tranquil and given a breath of fresh air one second, but then thrust back into the pathetic dwellings of my inner mind. I wish to barricade myself and take away my consciousness with a potion, or at least carry such a concoction of agency in my pocket, so I can leave when needed to not harm anymore people (by taking and taking), but more selfishly, diminish the pain. However, death unsettles me. What one experiences after, i do not know, and that adds to the uneasiness. All feels like it will never be alright again, that there will be doom wherever I journey. I cannot rest as I'm always awoken to another pressing matter. Always I come back to restlessness and chaos, such is the way of this life i currently lead. My heart feels like it's drowning and unable to surface. My body is tired. I'm tired. We can't weather the tides that is required with each step forward. Too much conflict and struggle. Not enough peace and tranquility. How bratty I may seem, complaining about everyday occurrences and nature itself? That does not matter to me now. I can be identified as bratty, selfish, dimwitted, egotistical, and ignorant; those words have familiarized themselves in my head. I only have the remaining strength of observing others in this collective place, wondering what's inside their inner worlds. I only have the remaining strength to wish on their well-being, as I'm too far removed for anything more. I can only feel tears, anger, hopelessness and tiny flickers of joy; all the while crying for my nervous system.
 
Weeping Garbage Can

Weeping Garbage Can

ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰਕੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਭੁੱਲ ਜਾਓ ❤️
Oct 31, 2018
316
6. Something I keep on learning: people in general are a roller coaster. I don't feel secure in putting upmost trust in anyone because I know that if they were to learn of what goes on in my mind, they would show a side of themselves I wouldn't feel comfortable with. I don't want anyone else to get hurt and I don't want to cause complications. I don't even know who I am anymore, besides being a human. I feel like an alien, yet not so cool. I don't know, I'm a part of this sentient life and have this body but I wish not to have these things. I truly want to wish everyone well and bade farewell. I do. I want others to do what they wish, not restrict others, participate in whatever they want (best would be there was no pain at a cost), and win whatever conquest they aim to set out on. But I hate being forced as part of this. I don't want to be a part of the mess this life and world has shown itself to be (in my mind). I want to separate myself from it all because I don't see much here. I hate my mind and body at times, and wish to be free. They are holding me here. I hate the pain and suffering, whether trivial or horrifying, that others experience. If I sound like a stupid, complaining, whiny idiot, and I probably do to at least some, that doesn't matter to me now. I try to be calm always. I try to be at least a little source of tolerance, kindness, and compassion with understanding and an open mind. But I feel things so deeply. I'm so sensitive. I'm so done with this place already, and I want to stay out, yet I want to try and help in some way. I'm not sure of this world, universe, and existence. Is this all worth for naught? Is there some intelligent, omnipresent being responsible for everything? I don't know, and I have so little information.
 
Weeping Garbage Can

Weeping Garbage Can

ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰਕੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਭੁੱਲ ਜਾਓ ❤️
Oct 31, 2018
316
7. I don't know what to do with this life, with this consciousness, with this body. What to do with the blood and flesh containing me, wanting to not be apart of this life club with all its drama, pain, and restlessness but instead enjoy serene peace. Yet I feel all these emotions and have flurries of thoughts driving me up a wall. What do I do with my humanity, when I so often only aim to only be an observer? I feel like an old grandma who wants to simply rest and observe, done with playing this peculiar, taxing, and often dangerous game. Basically, I don't want to participate. How lovely would it be to fly above, in the clouds, or float to far away galaxies, while leaving others to do as they please. I have years ahead of me to continue with this consciousness, this body, this life, and this existence. How to use it? With sprouts of kindness to make my restlessness and dissatisfaction of life a little more bearable, I guess. Oh, I hope to the stars that there are still bits and pieces of compassion, kindness, and loveliness that'll make this life club a little less painful.