Infection

The one thing that we all undoubtedly have in common is our undying fear of what others will think of us. What will they say? Will they judge me? What will they think of the image I’ve built of myself over the years?

And this very thought has planted itself like a seed in our minds, growing and nurturing with every passing moment. It was after a certain incident that I walked into my room, sat down, and with the wound of this fiery thought still fresh in my mind, wrote this poem. It’s unadulterated and mostly in the moment. And it’s something I’m sadly sure to say that everyone will relate to.

Infection

I’m tired, exhausted, frustrated
of that one thought that sits in my head like a fortress,
powerful, dangerous, and forever withstanding,
only becoming more and more demanding.

I’m tired, exhausted, frustrated,
Of that one thought
That chains me to the shackles of this reality,
That makes it hard to understand the real me,
That clouds my perception,
And makes me live with apprehension.

That one thought,
What will people think?
Soul-crushing,
Mind-bending,
Blurring your vision,
Escalating the tension,
Increasing the friction,
Between your heart and mind,
Coming in between every single decision,
Introducing you to possible depression,
Making you question your own reflection,
And acting as an infection.

Infecting your purity,
your happiness,
your reality,
your creativity.

And you feel sorry.

Because suddenly everyone else is more important than you,
And every time you say something, you don’t know if it’s true,
And you’re so lost in impressing others,
Not realizing that you are slowly losing yourself,
To the infection of log kya kahenge?

Is there a doctor that can cure this deadly infection?
I think it’s too much; I need a bloody intervention.
They tell you to be who you truly are,
But the second you do that,
They push you so goddamn far,
And the infection spreads,
Like rotten cheese on fresh bread?

How am I supposed to be the real me?
When I haven’t been myself in far too long,
Why does this all feel so wrong?
Am I just the most filtered version of myself?
Where the infection has become a disease,
Living in me with blinded ease,
Even though I’m feeling every ounce of unease,
Crashing me down like the waves of the sea,
Taking me farther away from trying to feel free.
No solution, only suffering,
Overthinking,
Sinking,
And putting a mask on and stepping out into the real world, unblinking.

—

On a more lighter note, I’m so happy to be active on my blog again. I don’t know why I took a sort-of hiatus, but I’m back babyyy and I can’t wait to write more, upload more and share my thoughts and stories with everyone! 🙂