09:09

Hear me out.

Deflection is an art. It takes more than the mundane, everyday thinking to shift blame from yourself to another person. To turn tables without lifting a finger. The art of deflection has been mastered by narcissists. They can do no wrong, so why accept blame for a situation that is entirely their fault? In a rare situation where narcissists allow you to speak, they hear you, but they do not listen. They look at you, but they do not see you. Infact, they can't see anybody but themselves. Loving a narcissist is like hugging a plushie ensconced in thorns. You will bleed.

From: Pinterest

Narcissism is a nice subject, but not nice enough for me to dedicate this whole letter to. Let's move on.

8:42 pm on Sunday. I just woke up from a drug-induced ‘nap’. I'm not responsible for anything I write while my brain is hazy from sleep. I thought about sharing one of my poems here, but after critical overthinking, I decided to spare everyone the experience. The poems I write are living things. My grief sticks to their skin, and so they throb with ache. My poems are graves. I bury fragments of my trauma in their chests. Like I said, I will spare everyone the experience.

I'm back in the house I grew up in. It's not the same, because everyone has moved out. The loud squabble of strong-willed children has been replaced with the lonely noise of the TV that I'm not interested in watching. Once upon a time, I used to fight with my brother for the remote.

So much has changed in five years. Now my siblings are strewn across the globe. I can't remember the last time the 4 of us were together in one room. Phone calls and texts are not nearly enough. Half the time, I don't even call them because I feel left behind and I want to be experiencing life with them, not relaying tidbits of information to them on the phone.

So much has changed in five years. Neurodivergence is a fancy word I discovered. It explains the restlessness in my belly. The one that led me to learn close to 5 skills that I was not even interested in. Of course, I didn't get anywhere with any of them. My attention span is fucked, and nothing holds my interest for more than 5 months. Not even people.

This makes me worry about marriage. What if I get tired?

*inserts nonchalant shrug. When we get to that bridge, we will cross it.

I'm teetering because I don't want to overshare. I never know when to draw the line.

8:49 pm on Monday. I'm back to complete what I started. I had a long day, and my brain is tired. This means that I can't think of all the things that are wrong with my life. Exhaustion is an escape. I will take it.

Routine is safe. Every day is just like the last. There are no unexpected occurrences. On the flip side, routine can quickly become a rut. Every day is just like the last. Before you know it, you are stuck in the rat race. Wake up. Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. You keep chasing the bag until you can't run anymore.

This is why I think death is underrated. Death means you finally get to rest.