"Isn't it weird when cutters meet?"

                        -you turn to me; "Is it?"

I take another sip of my whiskey

                  and attempt nonchalance

You don't buy it

                  I don't look you in the eye

you begin to string words together

carefully chosen - taking time

                          then nod to yourself

and eat them all up

I tell you about my geometry box

You tell me about the razorsharp

falling out of your wallet every time

                               you look for change

          Neither of us are the type

          to trust in divine intervention

but perhaps you could mistake that

                                             for a sign?

I stopped cutting a long time ago

                 I tell you so much

I could tell you everything

You scratch your head

         and say you don't remember

                             when you stopped

                 that's okay

I still cut everyday

only these scars don't

       show on my skin.



(Written in August after meeting a kindred.)

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This Summer

This summer is different

I almost await its arrival

Anticipating its din to, drown

the chaos in my head.

I look longingly forward

to the season of new birth

wishing upon it to hasten

the renewal within.

This summer is different-

I pray the colours consume me,

consume the dark clouds of winter

I’ve kept company with.

As the evening breeze gently

lulls in after sunset,

I’ll learn to make peace with

my memories but not forget.


I am finally starting to feel somewhat normal after 6 months of continuous mindfuck. It’s the new set of medication. I have been prescribed three different sets of medication and had my diagnoses change thrice in this period. Definitely made me rethink the idea of finally walking into a shrink’s office and getting diagnosed. Maybe someday I will write in detail about the last few months, the spiralling, my diseases. For now, I am content in staggering back to life.

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Bluest of blues-

The sheer futility of dying is a major deterrent. And the fact that I won’t even get a newspaper obituary.

I think I feel agony. It is the only word that comes closest to describing how I feel. Dog-welp agony. Haven’t felt this way in a long time.


Why isn’t anything helping?

Erase. Delete. Backspace.

I should listen to other people more often. Be less stubborn.

Mind is still imagining things. Wish I could clench my eyes tight enough and will this unreality away. Get mind to function again. Beginning to grow very tired of this old routine.

Dear Head,

This can only end badly for you.

This will only end badly for you.

Be stronger. You are letting yourself go. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth it.

(Wish I had a cigarette though.)


I think too much, I am told

As I begin to edge past creeping sadness

A conversation over

Why people wear masks

for faces

beginning to get me low

Some days my thoughts

weigh so heavy

I can barely get out of bed

I can barely get out of my head

– Everything is monochrome –

Life is

how life is

how life is

Lotus, where are you?

Life like — an unalome.

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Are you shape-shifting or am I hallucinating?


January, 2018.

Head won’t stop reeling. Can’t really stop crying.

Don’t trust anybody. Don’t trust anything. Can’t consume new media. Can’t consume any media. Don’t believe the newspapers. Don’t trust timestamps. Wow.

Why do I remember you everywhere?

Funny, I can still listen to music though. Probably the only thing I am not suspicious of.

Everything seems to be repeating itself like an infinite time loop. Refuse to believe I’ve done this to myself. Is this what insanity feels like?

I haven’t felt normal in months. I need to feel normal. Fix yourself, head. This is beyond pathetic. Seriously. What is this even?

Make it stop. Please.