holes are forming in my socks

my vision is blurry. i have a face mask on. my glasses are catching dust in my bathroom, next to my speaker, which is probably defunct from all the moisture at this point. i write this simply with the confidence that the letters i’m typing are actually translating into the words i want to say. and the occasional squint.

my socks are starting to tear, my lovely avocado socks.  my concealer is running out. my hair is chopped off. my friends aren’t mine to call anymore, some of them. times are changing. it’s cyclical i guess. 

where have i been, all this while. there’s a very simple answer. in my own head.

the bombay sky goes from pouring rain, to a lovely pink, again and again and again. i love it.

i find myself turning on the same bathroom light every morning, staring at myself in the mirror every morning, and saying “i just did this yesterday” every morning.

what happens when your foundations shake. you get scared. i’m scared.

i love this clicking sound of my keyboard. one key after the other, somehow its supposed to bind into something meaningful. 

the other day, i walked in the rain, with my hoodie on, and my earphones in. nobody knew who i was. nobody cared. it was one of the happiest moments of my life. i smiled with my teeth. the spiderman album does wonders for your mental health.

i met a stranger at a bar. he said you find comfort in anonymity, yeah. that’s so funny, because we were basically anonymous to each other.

someone familiar said i’m a melancholic person. yeah. i hated it, why did he see me. i loved it. he saw me.

my dad keeps asking me if i’m okay. he’s worried about me. i’m worried about him worrying. 

i hate you, reader, for being able to peek into my brain. but that’s my own doing. is it not. i’d rather you see, as a consequence of me saying something, the right or wrong thing, than not see at all. 

i keep buying serums to make my skin clear. i think they’re working. i can’t really tell. how long does this go on for. i wish i could buy a serum to clear my mind. money can’t buy everything. i guess.

alcohol makes me giggle. weed makes me quiet. coffee makes me anxious. 

i keep scrolling. endlessly. i hate it. there’s always an audience in the back of my brain, judging me for what i’m about to say next, before i even say it. i fucking hate it. shut up. who even are you, if not me. why should i judge myself. i’m all i have. 

people who don’t get you anything for your birthday, telling you what they don’t like about you. isn’t it funny. everyone seems to care deeply about the justice system these days. hahahaha.

i feel stupid. for not noticing these things sooner. what things. i won’t tell you. where’s the mystique if i tell you everything. it’s not that i didn’t notice. we all notice. i just don’t care enough. to take it personally. till it gets personal. so maybe i do care. 

courage is a rare find. i had it. till i didn’t. but it’ll find it’s way back to me. it has before. 

i’m so scared to go home. but it’s also all i want. my mother. my bed. i wonder if there will ever be a time, where i look forward to it. where i don’t feel like i’ve set my life back 4 steps, every single time i leave. 

is it really a secure life. if it breaks so easily. 

when i do my makeup, i look like my mother. i love it. she worries about looking old. i wish she realised, she has nothing to worry about.

when i was a kid i thought my parents knew everything. that they had all the answers. i know now, that they know nothing. neither do i. 

if you, reader, think this is all over the place. firstly, fuck you. secondly, it’s supposed to be. it’s how my mind feels. 

did you notice how i presumed something here. nobody except me is thinking it’s all over the place. because nobody expect me has even read this yet. either way, fuck you. 

i saw the playlist you made about me. when was i ever your boyfriend. excuse me for trying to sound clever here, it’s a coping mechanism. but you know that already don’t you, you know everything apparently. 

i have so much ambition. so much. it’s beyond me. i don’t know what to do with it. or how to compartmentalise it. have you ever tried compartmentalising a person. don’t do it. we are more complex than that.

my jurisprudence professor said he’d cut my attendance for being thirty minutes late. but marked me present anyway, after i laughed at his joke in class. maybe he sees something in me. the ambition. the potential. god i hate these words. 

i don’t mean to sound bleak. life is good. i love it. it’s mine after all. 

my face mask has dried. so has the other one. the one i show you. goodnight.