I know it has been a long time I wrote. The choice of color on my blog must be telling you how careless I've become. It signifies that I have lost touch with myself.
I am not going to lie. I have lost the power of connection. There is still something good in me that lot of people trust. But I think I have lost it. I have become a jealous, insecure, depressed version of myself. I have faced sadness before. Lots of it. But it still kept me hopeful and resilient. It made me instantly connected to likes of Andy in The Shawshank Redemption. But now I've even lost that. The ability to feel anything deep. I have become shallow in some ways I don't understand. That I don't know what to write anymore. Have you ever felt that?
I am lost at work and home, and yet I try to be good at sleep, read, meditate, swim, cycle, yoga etc. But I just feel I'm more lost than when I wasn't doing any of this. The more evolved I thought these things will make me, the more slaved I've become of them. The increased wisdom torments me or I just am not getting wiser. Everything is passing through me like I've no ability to absorb it.
There is some constant anxiety of sorts, a disorder may be. But I feel sometimes that I've lost some vital energy I used to have once, the zest of youth, the charm of doing something great. Something that mattered has died. Failures or may be my inability to control life has left some scars that keeps creating some heated radiation inside.
I am also not sure if I've found what I was seeking all these years. Some trap has made me to stop looking beyond what I was able to see when I was young. I am just left with some philosphy which I can use to rationalize when anyone argues with me. I don't know what I believe in any more. My unconscious brain hits up when I'm just awake from sleep and often tells me how many mistakes I have done that day, mistakes that my Zuhari window can see. Then sometimes I hear the mistakes other people see. And I just feel so inadequate not being up to the mark. Of being so stupid, inefficient, anxious, unproductive, incapable.
I don't know what success means. I've got everything I had wanted. And yet, I am so lost again. I don't want anything more. I don't dream of owning a bigger house or a car but may be to get lost in woods somewhere, to live life normally without complicated expectations that success brings you. I would rather be in a Vipassana ashram then talking to people. May be I've become introvert.
I have lost the reason to live. The real reason. It doesn't lie in dining out or talking incessantly. The mundane irrelevant stuff is all I desire right now.