No storm ever hurt a fallen leaf.

How a simple comment can set you back to the years worth of work you did on yourself. A mindless comment probably not even directed at you but just an utterance of their own entangled thoughts. 


How everything just shatters and reality reduces to being fragments of your imagination once again. "It wasn't even real to begin with", you scoff at yourself. "You weren't real" you tell yourself. 


It feels like someone punched you in the gut and stole your most prized possession and you couldn't retaliate. Took away your identity. Took away everything you thought you stood for. Stripped you naked. And who comes to your rescue in this nakedness? Ahhh!! your old friend, your demons ofcourse! Now, you're vulnerable, now you're easy to penetrate. And penetrate they do, deep into your skin, much deeper infact. 


But it feels so familiar that you don't realize it is hurting you, maybe it really isn't . You don't realize it will once again break you or maybe not, everything you created, your relationships, your euphoric utopian world,your identity. Ahh such a delicate thing that is, identity. What the fuck is it anyways?


You can't breathe anymore but you know that's okay, cause you learnt to suffocate yourself, your true self, and the fake self doesn't even need to breathe, infact it doesn't want you to breathe. 


What the fuck am I blabbering!? Have I gone crazy? what does it matter it's a fucked up crazy world! Stay calm. Yeah! for what? I dont know who the fuck I am. How am I then supposed to know who are mine, what is mine? Nothing? hmm that feels good, that is familiar too. Nothing! hmm I like that.


I am not love, Iam not hate, I am not calm no, but neither am I maniacal, I am not talking nor mute, not sleeping nor awake. I am sailing through, yes. But no storm ever hurt a fallen leaf.  So that's what it is? I am a fallen leaf? waiting to be eroded into nothingness cause I can't even fucking drown? Cause that's the only thing that's certainly mine, nothingness? Sigh! When you hit the rock bottom at least you know there is nowhere else you can go but either go out or go up. But what is this place? This is so new! It's not the rock bottom nor the sky high. It's waiting. Waiting with no direction, being swayed in every fucking direction. Waiting with no control, no hint, no idea, no hope even, but full anticipation and then again no anticipation. I guess that is what they call surrender. It demands equanimity but how do I know it's not my lethargy?  How do I know anything anymore? I chased everything I needed to know, to pull me up from the rock bottom. But what do you do when that knowing itself is challenged? Surrender I will, but to whom do I really surrender? To a faith that the present is perfect or to the passiveness that is from weakness? Cause no matter what you say the present definitely doesn't feel perfect. 




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