Let’s celebrate the fact that my blog is now a year old. And I haven’t written since the last few days (okay, months.) I started this blog hoping I would create something vividly interesting, be someone’s reason to look forward to life, but alas, here I am, a giant writer’s block posting popular, deep and irrelevant poems just to keep the followers going.
The truth is that, I am Inconsistent. Inconsistent with reality, inconsistent with people, inconsistent with the pace of time; basically just lost. On some days, I am Julie Andrews from Sound of Music and then most days I am just Jack’s inflamed sense of rejection. It’s a feeling of impending doom that just won’t subside. You wake up every day hoping to achieve certain standards and then its 3 a.m. when you are blatantly staring at the wall. There’s this spirit in me that wants to do something but I lack the motivation to act on it. There’s this idea but I lack the resources to execute it. There’s this plan but I just don’t show up.
Inconsistency lies in the fact that I want to but I don’t. There’s no reason, there’s no trigger and there’s no way out. And it absolutely bums me out to have this sense of delusion with no rationale. I cannot call it depression or boredom or unhappiness or misery or dejection. But I feel depressed, bored, unhappy, miserable and dejected. Adjectives but no nouns. What is more inconsistent than the fact that I cannot explain it? I am caught in this circle of life where all I can do is wait. My life is supposed to change drastically but there no reaction-time. For good or for worse my life is supposed to change. Either way, the valence is all negative. And I stand to lose in every situation. Every time I play it in my head, it is inconsistent.
And if it sounds like my life is a mess, it isn’t. My life is practically perfect at the given moment. This makes it worse, because I am inconsistent with its perfection. What do I do if I stand to lose no matter what I do? Am I a bad person if I choose to escape? I am all over the place, confusing you like this. But you will understand me if you know what it feels like not to be good enough, to die ordinary, to be afraid of the unknown, to run out of patience, to wait for something you desperately want.
That echoed. Either you are inconsistent with my writing or you are inconsistent like me. And I hope it is the former.