And One Day, She Also Decided To Leave.. I Did Not Ask For An Explanation This Time, I Was Tired Of Asking

I once dreamed I was a butterfly, and now I no longer know whether I am person, who dreamed I was a butterfly, or whether I am butterfly dreaming that I am a person.

~ Chuang-tzu

Damn…

Damn…

as you touched my hands, my heart was in million of pieces already, I knew you hurt me, I knew it was you who broke it in pieces, but still I was picking each piece with my bare hands, while I bled, still I was picking them up only to write your name once again, I was not collecting my pieces to heal it, I was collecting them to give it to you again, maybe it was my sadistic need to be broken by you again and again.

my lips trembled your name, uttering "I love you" again and again, you stood there responding to my plea to be killed by you again with a heartfelt smile like a butcher feeding his fowls before slaughtering them...

Maybe people will call me fool for not letting you go, but what is a love which doesn't put a knife through your heart, leaves you bleeding on the floor, while watching blood gushing out of your heart, and crying with a wretched smile hiding underneath, it's the pain, the sheer agony which excites this feeling of love.

~ Necromancer

rb if you are about to lose your shit, have already lost your shit, or support people who lose their shit

Winters are cold, just like her heart to me,unforgiving and unremitting 💙

Sending love and light. Your posts make it seem you are going through a hard time. I hope it gets better soon🫂

We all are going through something, I just prefer to put it into words. Most of my writings are from my previous experiences, I just keep revisiting my memories, finding emotions I can put into words, thus making my pen borrow my pain.

Rest assured, I am doing better :)

&

thank you for your love, thank you for your care 🩷

I have read books after books, seen series after series, listened songs after songs. nothing, just nothing moves me anymore.

I have stopped caring about myself, my beard is unkempt, hell I don't even know how long it has grown. I don't even remember when was last time I looked at myself in mirror. I just do not want to look into my eyes anymore, what will I answer to my reflection? Who am I? What have I become? the existential dread I have is far more greater than my willingness for self care.

How long is my hair? when was the last time I had a haircut? Why do I feel no love? for myself, for others? I can't help but think about Gregor Samsa, how he must have felt when he turned into a bug, to not able to associate with your body, not able to recognize yourself, not able to care about yourself. How did he feel when none of his family members cared about him, the ones he expected some amount of sympathy were the ones who were the very first to abandoned him. How did it felt to be different? in the most unwanted way.

Maybe I know, No, I am not a bug, or some character from Kafka's dreadful fantasies but I have known all those feelings at some point of my life, those situation which make you stop and think, am I real or some figment of Kafka's stories?

Have you ever felt a moment where all eyes were on you and you felt like you were the oddest one of all humans which exist on this earth? If yes, you definitely know how it feels to be in my situation, this constant paranoia of my life which keeps on asking me to put a facade on my face is the reason I am always on the edge looking for a way to jump out of my skin and crawl underneath a chair just like Gregor.

I would be normal one day, I will look into my eyes someday. Hope it is not like Gregor.

(Image taken from Pinterest)

˜ Necromancer

Temporary

I have been meeting people since long, I have seen temporary people, I have been with few. They are sometimes the most amazing people you will ever meet.

I met a person, temporary or not, I didn't knew if they will be here with me forever or not, we met, we talked, we went out a few times, and it was all amazing, felt like life couldn't get any better. We were eyesore to everyone around us, I wrote in my diary for them

"I have been living life in this dark abyss, the black and white world, they have brought back the colours of life to me, it all feels beautiful"

They went away, I was drowned in colours, all the colours they gave me. all the red, green, blue.

It should have been end of it all.

their return brought back all the colours, it was all rainbows and butterflies, it was as if I was a little kid who has been handed the crayons for the first time, excited, bubbly and ready to paint the world in their colours.

but sometimes, temporary people should remain temporary, they are meant to be.

maybe the temporary people shouldn't be given too much information about your life, that's the reason they are not permanent, right? because they are non-judgemental as long as they don't know about you.

Once you start making a temporary person a permanent one in your life, that is the moment you are destined to ruin your own feelings and respect for that person. such kind of people are meant to know very little about you, just meet them, have non-judgemental fun with them and move on. holding onto them will ruin your own mental being.

the return of that person in my life, was a pleasant surprise, but all the colours slowly blended into each other, creating a thick, viscous shade of crimson red. it was blood, my blood, the blood of my feelings. the slow, viscous decline of my sanity blending into some bit my self-destructing nature, triggering it all. just like a juicer cutting down all the pieces of fruits into a gooey mess, slowly turning the fruit into a thick paste of nothingness, just pure insides of the fruit.

for all I know, I was husk of a person remaining, all of my insides have been chopped up into the pieces, the pieces of my being, the pieces of my existence, broken, broken, broken down, mixed, churned, gulped and eaten alive.

the fruits which stay put tend to rot faster, they get replaced with new fruit. young and fresh. the one fear I hold came true to me, again.

I wrote for them again in my diary:

"all the colours which came back, were nothing but shades of red"

(Image taken from Pinterest)

~ Necromancer

Apparently when you leave home for the first time, you leave forever, the home you return to isn't the home you left behind.

I can't see my life how I understand it is, the present feels so untainted and fresh as if it's a memory of someone with poor memory, brought to life again by a strange fragrance, a sound from a movie, and

The most noticeable emotion of all is just loneliness, the gap between the individual and everything that isn't the individual is so vast that even light is taking a bit long to reach.

I stand at the station waiting for the train, in the cold, the fog, the rain, everyone else has gone home, maybe so has the train, everyone else but me.

if you see someone being interrupted in a conversation, acknowledge them, don’t let them be pushed to the side. if you see someone lagging behind, walk beside them. if someone is being ignored, take the step to include them. always remind people of their worth. it hurts when it feels like you’re being forgotten. that small gesture can mean a lot.