Surely dying

I’m sitting here on the empty Jacuzzi staring at the ceiling with water droplets spritzing near my face, as I try to feel fulfilled. In my room, I spray all types of scents to calm my senses but it just numbs me down. I have every material thing that I want and I make a lot of money for a chick who claims to not need a lot. I turn on the bright blue therapy light that mimics sunlight to feel like I’m sitting under the sun. I meet a lot of people every day whom I don’t call my own. I have the love of my two parents but I want a big family that’s fifty times bigger and will have my back. I have the guy that adores me but I also want one who doesn’t. I’m climbing the capitalist ladder but I believe in socialist type stuff. I’m maintaining my status as a whatever, but it’s just killing me inch by inch. I don’t take pills, smoke, or drink to cope but that doesn’t mean I’m happier. I can’t follow spiritual leaders and luminaries who say pretty things because in the end they’re just humans like me. I can’t support any religions with an open heart because they talk too much of discipline, but I’m fueled by instinct and desire. I have realistic aspirations now and still want to do significant things for the future, but I don’t if I don’t have to. I can have kids if I want to but I may just let my body shut down. There are twelve months in a year and eight of them are already over and I can’t get the past three or four years back.

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The smell of anxiousness

Bring back those anxious feelings of my childhood: the distinct smell of dry noodle mixture and seasonings inside the chemical smelling 80’s plastic lunch box. Bring back these feelings of isolation and fear of differences, the fear of rulers and authorities (teachers), and the fear of rules and systems that used to cage me within the school boundaries; where my mother would be on the other side of the gate after they closed it on me to begin this school thing. Where I had cried and cried because I wanted to be back into the arms and comfort of my mom, my home. The lunch time tiffin box was all those things I feared. I still smell it here and there, and my stomach tightens as I sit in my office today and contemplate whether it was worse then, or is it worse now.

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