..what am i turning into

15/07/2015:

I mentally updated this note every month - the worthlessness of this entire exercise, my own relentless background noise (and it grows even chaotic when i try to muster courage to do this) and this everlasting powerlessness.

What do you do when the doctor asks you to get up and look outside and take a walk - or atleast try and get up or atleast think about trying to get up, to atleast think.

 I dont like people coming over to visit when i am sick, I dont like people visiting, it turns into a monologue where i m compelled to entertain them, I dont like doing that - its a great mental effort

I am not bored though - i wonder why, I get angry, I have become rude, as a person - i wonder why
 incompetence is something i cannot see the sight of - I wonder a lot things.

The day i fell sick - I felt i was not present anywhere where my body was - for one distinct moment i felt i wasn't there in that same place. i felt my eyes being sucked in - it felt good that i wasn`t here.

Over all of this - its not raining - i want rains, I want rains so bad - I might even pray. I have a lot of results coming up in the next few days - I am not excited - nothing excites me.

I end up asking the same question every single time, what am i turning into - a giant narcissistic baboon - cause despite all of this, my love for my own self has not waned. I wonder why

21/02/15:

I am here, between the shadows, walking, with my weak legs - A sense of dread, a calling, accompanies me. The ringing in the ears does not die, it follows me, like a master trails a slave - a slave, which is his last possession, he doesnot remember what else he holds, owns. Except the slave, except this ringing. 

Forgetfulness is now a way of life. Its that master - who wouldn't know what to do with the slave except to keep walking with him. This blind static, has thus, become my partner, my owner- through a life lived within a thin existence and this burning in the bones.. 

This ringing, is thus, a  distraction - there's times when i forget what things are called, there's times when i forget forgetting, there's times when the second takes an hour to tick and pauses - puffs,looks around for help, is breathless and then, in this moment of weakness - takes a giant leap towards the next and falls into the abyss, a second thus, is lost; those are my worst moments, else, I'm happy with this ringing - this gentle static which keeps telling me I'm still here and i have to walk..take the leap, live.

-what am i turning into?

21/01/15:

2 am. 21st January.

The day passed,14 hours, me and the monitor at work. My system. There, i believe, is a reason its called so - my system.

I'm home and am the mirror is staring back at me. Sunken eyes ask, with a pregnant pause. What am i turning into?

My indifference to the magnificence around me, lack of will - to raise my head - sluggishly - to people who open their mouths, smelling like gates of hell, disregarding the need for nutrition.

To not add words to meaning less diary notes - words which seethe of   my  dry, bony, ironic - existence and the pain, this inscrutable pain

-what am i turning into?