This life, and its turns.

25/03/2026

It's 3:55 am in the morning and I can't sleep. I like staying up, though it hasn't always been a choice to be honest. I love the quiet, the calm, the peace and absolute absence of interference. When I used to game, this was the best time to do it. When I stayed up late talking (in dinosaur ages), these hours struck up the best of best convos. When I needed to study, a lot, it was always the 4 am rush that pushed me.

But now, it scares me. I realise that staying up late has done a lot of harm, to my body and especially to my mind. Quite literally, I'm unable to remember things. I forget even the slightest details of everyday happenings. It is just that I cannot sleep. I try. And I feel anxious. Such are the thoughts and visuals that flood my mind that I end up feeling even more anxious which again does not help the sleep at all. This cycle keeps repeating itself till I either give up and start doomscrolling or tire my mind out enough to fall asleep around 2 hours later. Worst case scenario, I get an anxiety attack. Though I don't think I'd even realise if I have one now, it's just so normal to feel anxious all the time.

I just realised I'm writing after 3 years. It seems so stupid now. Yet, here I am, blabbering on. I guess it's just the lack of communication catching up to me (hehe). So much has changed that I don't even feel like talking about anything anymore, to anyone. Just that, life is not what we think it out to be, this is for sure.

I somewhere always felt that I'm the villain in my own story. The past few years have kind of proven me right. So, I thought, why not just own the character, eh? Just be a bad, bad person and not have a care in the world about what you think, who you hurt, why you do what you do. That is what the world is up to, no? Turns out, it's a really bad idea for people who are self aware. Big surprise!

So, I just thought to be. "To be". To go on a journey that lets me believe I'm bad, but also do good things. To be selfish, but also kind. To love without trusting wholly. To obsess over why things happened the way they did, but still let go of what caused them. To not be liked by everyone and understand that it's just difference of human nature. To sit in silence while my mind shouts. And to feel deeply, yet be numbed by too many emotions.

Because, in the end, are we all not just so flawed that we tend to believe that we deserve nothing from ourselves or from others, for that matter? But it is only a flaw. We deserve exactly what we are. And that is never black or white. It's always grey.

Open to interpretation.