My diary

Am I frozen? I have more than enough reasons to cry, still I don’t feel anything. I’m not feeling the depth of the wounds I collected. Something is stopping me from accessing it, am I not strong to withstand it? I’m not poking it either, why? I have found ways to distract me, to find happiness in other things, maybe the wounds are not healed, it’s still there, waiting to get attention, but I don’t dare to visit those. I don’t know what would happen if I do that. Another reason could be I never shared anything to anyone in my life, you know what happens when something consoles you when you are about to cry. Sometimes music does it to me. And I cry. You never cry if you are always alone. You can cry as much as you wish, but you have to pick yourself from the depths you have fallen into, because no one is coming. If no one is there to tell you it’s going to be okay, speak to you about it, there is no need for crying, you just froze. And it accumulates over time, and you build a kingdom

My story is so complex that I have to work on a blog for some time to completely explain it. Still, I tried asking help to someone who I thought cared about me. He was the one who reached out to me. Honestly, it’s tiresome to explain everything all over again. It’s not like no one reads my blog, stats tell me so. Still, no one cares to even say a hi, even show their support. Not even a single like out of 500 people, at least one person has to like even by mistake. Then why should I spend time communicating with them, they are already talking without talking. Maybe they are doing it for fun or whatever reasons I’m unaware of, what they are making me feel is real, cornering me.

Something tells me I’m frozen. Maybe all of me doesn’t want me to cry right now, maybe I will cry when all of it is over. I still remember the way I cried, when all of it began, under closed doors, I’m jealous of that person. I thank all the Gods for teaching me that, how to let go of the pain, through tears. At that time, I didn’t know the exact reason why I was crying, there was nothing to pinpoint, but it was like opening the gates. Maybe I have reached my threshold, it would have happened at any moment, but God helped me to do in private. All those days, there was nothing but music and tears, my own kind of healing, I want to do it again, but I’m holding it back, all I’m getting is a push forward, and I’m okay. I want those days back. The days of revival. All of my paintings and writings, when read, anyone will think I’m doing it out of anger, but it’s not. It was simply God reminding me about the things I forgot. All I did was pray. I still get surprised when I see some of my pa