the brain — an apparatus with which we think we think.

so cambridge has been a surreal blur thus far.
i haven’t been making as many friends as i’d like to, but i have to be the guy taking the bloody initiative.

and i’m struggling to keep up all the time. drifting in and out of consciousness during lectures, then wallowing in a cesspool of doubts after.
i need to start afresh.

this, supposedly, was a new chapter to my life.

the haunting agony of regret is tinged with a bittersweet aftertaste.
i savour it all the time.

and i wryly admit defeat.

i have just been criticized for being a mellow jellyfish too mentally weak to hold true to my ambitions, and too hypocritical to carry out my intentions; but i haven’t really proceeded because i took heed of your feelings. my insistence was in part vitiated by emotional considerations, in part also dampened by the nagging doubt of whether my wishes are indeed the “better” route. if it’s the latter, am i really too timid to take a plunge into the unknown?

is there a win-win situation here?

the travesties i’m living everyday haunt me in my sleep everyday.
the people, scenes, and conversations repeat endlessly like a broken video tape.

i wake up with a huge sigh, wondering why i’m infinitely unhappy; and then cursing myself for the self-banishment i chose to endure.
i am so, so disillusioned… tired of life’s little struggles that permeate our lives ever so stealthily.

the typicality of my doubts disgust me, the predictability of my nightmares nauseate me.
it’s like i’ve halted indefinitely in a standstill of personal growth, immaturely pondering consequences and circumstances which have far, far been etched in stone.
the funniest thing is, given a switch of places, i’m not sure if i will be at all happier.

i think i’ve pretty much accustomed to the fake smiles that are necessary for day-to-day interactions, to mask the inherent unhappiness of life.
i remember i valiantly denied the “hypocrite” label during the johari window at obs, not because i wasn’t one; but because i was deathly afraid of being called one.
calling a hypocrite a hypocrite represents a stark failure in the hypocrisy, for the real hypocrites escape with the sincerest facades which people fail to detect.

i need courage, strength and mental resilience. i need to look forward, not backwards.

………..

i really need to expel all the insane jealousy within me and the accompanying grass-is-totally-greener-on-the-other-side mentality.
the choices i regret not making…
are the very choices which propelled me towards the choices i regret making.

roar. regret is a nasty emotion.

i’ve been watching your world from afar,
i’ve been trying to be where you are,
i’ve been secretly falling apart –

i should stop being so analytical. life needs to be taken with a pinch of salt.

okay seems like i’ve gotten a semi-grip on my life at this moment.
no more immature, nihilistic, self-destructive, non-constructive rants;
no more warbled thoughts,no more sheepish apologies, no more sneaking around in the silhouettes of others.

i have set clear goals for myself, (though they’re not in view),
i will work harder.

less of being the sheep, more of being the shepherd.
less of being outshone, more of outshining others.

okay im really, genuinely confused about where my moral compass should point now.
i’ve started off convincing myself that solitude far beats the hypocritical relations that dominate our friendships in today’s times;
i’ve semi-prided myself in defeating the conformist, contrived climate of smiles, cheeriness and laughter which we’re compelled to live in,
i’ve been quite the misanthrope, pondering the excesses and sheer worthlessness of human affection,

but all this, all this self-destructive nihilism is perhaps just a nice utopian vision i construct to evade the harsh truth that i’m facing: i repulse people.
i am aloof, i dodge and shirk, i emanate negativity, i am downright defeatist.
hauntingly as it may be, perhaps all i really need is the opposite of whatever i’ve championed for — the maudlin core of human contact.

i am so tired of being cordial.

i’m sick of being the calm, cool, collected, nondescript, tagging-along goody-two-shoes; i’ve been suppressing my urge to just YELL and TOTALLY GO WHINY AND BITCHING ABOUT LIFE.
i need to break down. i dont have an armor of courage, im not brave, im infinitely feeble; i feel like i just dont… fit in.

IM NOT COOL.
IM NOT CALM.
IM NOT COLLECTED.

I JUST NEED TO SCREAM. I CAN NO LONGER FAKE A SMILE ANYMORE.
and the worst part?

ALL MY FACADES ARE NOT PAYING OFF AT ALL.
SO MUCH FOR PR.

…
sometimes i dont know why i even bother acting.

i have a weird penchant for veering off on a tangential rant on (excessive) self-psychoanalysis that is both worthless and inconsequential. nobody cared, cares, or will care.

and of late i’ve been drowning myself in quixotic visions of could-have-beens and should-have-beens — a distinct departure from the reality i am compelled to endure.
at times i’ve felt a clinging urge to take a plunge and leave the forest of bygones i’ve trapped myself in;

but all that sounds… impossible.