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I think I want to go back to writing incoherent blogs again. Because I am essentially still a very confused person, constantly battling demons within myself, wanting some sort of validation, sometimes not caring at all, then getting worried about not caring. It is just a little too much chaotic all the fucking time.

The problem is I am very self-aware. Extremely. I am like a completely stoned crack-head every moment, sans the drugs. Everything is either way too heightened and way too surreal  or demands my over-analytic and over-sensitive seventh sense. I live in a very phantasmagorical world in my own mind. As I am growing older and definitely more and more self-aware, I am owning myself better as well as getting a little perplexed on discovering the contours of my personality.

I suddenly realized that I have never been able to be happy, just unconditional happy. If I dare be ,I quickly somehow ruin it for myself by over-analyzing it. If I have not been happy, I am either apologetic or guilty. I am apologetic about not having done the right things, taken the right decisions and always second-guessing myself about what I did do. Which brings me to guilt. A terrible ever-persistent guilt. It’s like I am not giving myself a fucking break.

I have set myself up for failure you would think and I would not disagree.

But a friend from ‘my people’ (my term for my small coterie of friends) once told me that my self-awareness is also what makes me strong and interesting. And redeeming may I add.

So where am I getting at? Really, nowhere that matters to anyone but me. Writing about my chaos is cathartic and psychologically de-cluttering. So deal with it if you had to read this.

 

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