Scream! #MondayMusing

I scream, I yell, I plead to be let go.. I am trapped, I am troubled, Ways to get out,I don't know! I am cursed, I am shunned, I am thrown to the fire, till I'm burned! All I can do, I scream, I yell, I plead.. I want to be alive.. I just hope I get through this ALIVE!

My fault for the pain, I see none, I wonder why the hell had it to begun?! You were you and I was I, For this agony and misery, why did we come together, WHY?!

All I do, I scream, I yell, I plead.. I want to be alive.. I just hope I get through this ALIVE!

I am trapped in the middle of being, you.. I want to be me but I cant let go of you Your kiss of poison revealed a python under a flower's mask! All I do, I scream, I yell, I plead.. I want to be alive.. I just hope I get through this ALIVE!

A poison that killed me, A poison that numbed me, A poison that has trapped me in between, Of being your ego's slave and my miseries' queen!

I scream, I yell, I plead...

I found this poem scribbled in one of my college notebooks while organizing my cupboard, over the weekend. It brought back to me a lot of memories. Memories I had long forgotten.

My notebook scribbling

Memories are really weird. At least mine are. This poem came as a shocking reality of a time, my memories vouch to be pleasing and the best. This awakened in me things I had forgotten, if I had written this during a class hour, imagine what I must have been going through. Imagine, how much pain and hurt I must have dealt with to pen down something so poignant.

After reading the poem, I realized I was not happy being where I was back then, though I had forced myself to think otherwise. When I finally got out of the situation also, I was not really sure if it were the best thing. I somewhere knew it was, but my manipulative memories told me otherwise.

That is the reason why I document my feelings and emotions in whatever way I can. Apart from helping me understand my situations from a third person perspective, it helps me learn, retrospect and heal, it also allows me to know and understand what I wanted over different periods of time. We change as people and I thank my stars that I can write and go back to read what I have written and understand how much I have changed for the better or for the worse.

I have always maintained a dairy, the only thing that contains the real me, the real feelings and the real emotions. Blogging is a different ball game. I blog to gauge my own standards of how I can put across something. My blog is called the The Side I Hide because none of my real life friends are aware that I can write and that I have been blogging for a while, not even my best friend for almost a decade. I use this platform to write and when random strangers understand what I have written and connect to it, I feel motivated to write more. If I had to publish it to my real life people, there would be biased opinions and this purpose would be lost. Also, I would try to alter certain things if I had to let the people in my real life read. I can now write the bare truth without the fear of being judged.

Also real life people tend to read a lot into what bloggers write, is this story about herself? Is this post about him? Is this post about me? Is she referring to what I did? For strangers, all stories are nothing but fragments of the writer's imagination. Now do you see, why I hide my writing side?

Since this is what I believe in, I do not promote my blog on social media, emails or even while having conversations. It is not popular for it to be randomly found on the internet. The fact, that somebody takes the effort to look up, open and actually read 400-500 words of what I write means a lot to me.

My posts are about experiences and not people. You can see parts of me in all of my posts but that is not who I am completely. If you can see parts or whole of yourself in what I write, without me mentioning names, tagging or even giving physical descriptions, is it my fault that you think the character is similar to you?

I never expect anybody from my real life to come and read this blog. I didn't even realize some people are curious enough to do that. I write because I love to and this space belongs to me. Also sometimes my characters can be convoluted and twisted. I might have drawn references out of people or out of things I have heard and seen. So, unless I explicitly mention your name, if you can relate my characters to yourself, see it as your conscience taking you on a guilt trip. Because, I am not saying it is you, I never have or I never will.

You taking offence to what I have written, is enough validation that I have written the truth. It is one thing to read what I write, relate to it but another to make a big deal about what I have written without even having enough proof other than your own conscience, to prove that I am taking about you. Why would you want to draw attention and scream that the douche of a character is you, when I am not even saying that?

I thank such people for showing me the potential my words contain. I thank them for making me believe further more that I am doing the right thing.
I am sorry that people take the trouble to find my post, read it, analyze it and take offence but I am not sorry for writing what I wanted to write.