Myself Is Crippling Me,

Extremists live melancholy lives, they are always at the edges. Their hands suffocate, bruises, blood, scars. They are always pulling the rope to their end forgetting that the world stands on a balance. They fascinate themselves with things and that’s prison in itself.

Art by @kmcvisuals

The whole world isn’t mine, true, but my world, my world is mine.

The mothers

only pray

to get

Lawyers

Doctors

Presidents

and

Engineers

then

the world

stares on,

finding it hard 

to give us all our daily havocs,

for the rest 

of our lives.

Some are whores

and 

gigolos 

so you

marry them at

your own

risk

that when you

find them

extramarital

you know that

this was it,

the destiny thing.

But it’s been hard to let them know that all I need now is not Lethargy, or Trazodone, or Sertraline.

I need a heart that can beat when mine is trembling, a face that can smile when mine is sad-locked, and a person who can accept that I am in a dangerous mood.

Love can be mastered. Days as they surpass each other love can grow where it never was. Though, the art of loving yourself is surely a hard seed to plant, grow or finally harvest.

If they really are bad people to them, I think, personally, I would cut them off. I believe friendship, beyond help or fun, should at least aim to be good—something one can lean on without judgment. So if they don't get that, then what is it for? Maybe the escape here is to stop the pain they cause.

But that's just my take, not something they should rush into. Plus, thanks for being there for them. Step by step, without forcing things, you can help them realize how some of what they do might hurt others. Slowly, gently—I’m sure they’ll overcome it, my mate.

guys

what does it mean if you hurt someone

and

you don’t feel anything

…

asking for a friend

…

We gambol dances that oppose our hearts.

We beam smiles that contradict our feelings.

We walk into roads that tremble our souls

We get to grisps with things our bodies loathe

Our hearts are wrecking and agonizing yet;

we must remember not to weep since tears have been labeled for the weak and we yearn to be counted among the valiants.

Compiling Mirthday feels like walking through a forest of thoughts, deciding which trees to let grow and which to prune. This book is my heart in prose and poetry—a map of solitude’s hidden trails. SOLITUDE AND LONELINESS, TIME AND CHANGE, INDETITY AND EXPECTATIONS, THE ABSURDITY OF LIFE, MENTAL HEALTH AND SOCIETY EXPECTATIONS all loom in atleast all the pieces i have so far collected .

feel free to be a part of this experience here and its free mate.

https://www.patreon.com/lifepath25

i rarely re-read but always keep them at heart,the journey they take me to.

Looks like it’s kindle time again and a reread too.