My diary

I saw three dreams in that bed, one I’m being trapped inside the snake, not its’s belly, but inside the twisting of its body. I wanted to scream for help, but inside I was telling there is no point, I will only waste my energy, it was totally me, how would I react at a same situation. Then I saw a woman, I know who it is, she was smiling but something was weird at that smile, it was like a temple, what you see at a snake temple, but this place was half submerged in water, I don’t remember much details, it was all I can remember. Then the third one, when I started to write this, I knew there were three dreams, but now it feels like not, I don’t know why I wrote three. I can’t remember the third one.

Easy is not always right. Self-respect comes before everything. If I can’t respect myself, how would I respect others. But, two third of mine is not right, not gender wise, I’m no light. I’m sin. I’m born and raised in darkness, I never saw a sunrise one or two years before, though I write about such experiences. Ghosts were my friends though I never met them, they were always there, and I hope they will guide me home. I write about waves, but there were only a few times I was there, it was all fiction, and everything about me is too. Who knows what else is hidden underneath (Some you lose with time, or remain dormant out there somewhere, believing their nonexistence that it isn’t there, maybe it gets accumulated somewhere, and when it reaches the breaking point, I cry for silly reasons, maybe it’s not silly, maybe they are). Maybe my closed ones left me a huge scar by framing me for not being normal, I was just normal. Or honestly, I don’t know the exact reason, something just pushes

I have already seen my death, I was murdered. It was a dream. I was sleeping, suddenly I had this thirst, and I went outside my room to search for water. But when I was outside, I saw two wardrobes dressed as doors. I tried to get back inside, but that door was gone. Someone was behind me, and I was sliced many times. Where did that room go? Somebody closed the door from inside, there was no one else except my brother in that room.

Have you ever seen the kid who trusts his mother, when they go to the hospital, I was one. They took advantage of that trust, I was dizzy afterwards, for months, all I did was sleep. I go to sleep at 7:30 PM at night, and wakes up in the morning only to eat more drugs and goes back to sleep. I couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening around me. Those calculated risks I took, I had no answer, it was reckless, and they took advantage of everything to frame me as someone who is not at his mental best. I don’t know for what reasons, I needed someone to be near me when I sleep, and pillows when they are not. I had shivering’s, and I needed someone to hug me, and I found my comfort in pillows. I tried to get back in my life, but I was lost at that time, in the middle of nowhere. Somehow after years of hard work, I graduated. Then one day, they suddenly returned to haunt me whispering to me things I should do, they were never ready to let me go.

People say I don’t talk much, why? I don’t have the need to impress anyone, that could be one reason, another I’m already talking too much inside my mind. Most of the time, there is a party going inside my mind, why would I spoil that by talking shit. I have better things going inside my head. Still, sometimes I connect with right people, I turn off the party inside, they are rare. Some people change with time, but I never changed, I like such people who doesn’t get older with time. It’s impossible, but I’m one of them.

Why is everybody afraid of death? Everyone lives their quota of fifty plus years, most of them, yet when they hear about it, they can’t accept it, it’s like it’s never enough. Why? Maybe they are not living, attachments are the only acceptable reason, yet when some people hear about money, they resurrect. They value money more than anything, any human connection, they think people will do anything for it, they see themselves in others.

When I was there, I saw anger in people’s faces, they never liked that version of me for some reasons. We talked, and they couldn’t believe it was me, they wanted to stomp over me like old times. Why? I remember those people, their hidden anger, what was they trying to do? When I’m away, I could sense people staring at me. It was one of the two events I attended they planned for me. I went there with so much happiness, but I didn’t feel like old times, something was wrong there. Something was burning inside them, their words had that, and in there I saw someone’s stare, so powerful than every other eyes. Those eyes demanded me to talk, but why? Despite all the efforts I did, on my own, I never had a flock or herd or anything like that, I was like always, walking alone, the only response was that stare after close to a decade. My history at that time was stained because of some idiots, but I never connected the dots, I didn’t know the information will spread at that speed. Why everyone

My mommy has a bad habit, she keeps dead relative’s clothes in her closet in memory of them, and whenever she gets a chance to come into the room, she wants to open the closet. It’s not just that, I suspect some of my dress I’m wearing belongs to dead people. I know all these things, and I nod. I’m thinking, why did she buy this wardrobe? The mirror in this wardrobe drains you, it’s different from the other wardrobe in my room, when you compare them, you will see the difference. Why? It takes your confidence away from you, if you are short, you will look much shorter in the mirror, and its color is grey. If my memory is right, it was bought when I was an under graduate.