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#struggle

What’s something you struggle with ?

It’s easy to think of problems than solutions I guess, there are many struggles I find now,and the list goes here.

  • I can’t communicate properly with people
  • I can’t choose between two things
  • I’m struggling to not think of that situation which hurt me
  • I’m struggling to forgive things, people situation, myself
  • I’m struggling to understand what others are saying behind me or infront of me, doesn’t mean that’s me
  • I’m struggling to not stress while my head aches
  • I’m struck in between bad memories / situation and not being able to get rid of them
  • I’m struggling with a deep sigh now, well it’s been raining today, and I have no time to enjoy the water droplets falling on the ground, I’m so busy to hide from the cold
  • I’m struggling to write a good poetry
  • I’m struggling to find peace and the irony is we don’t get peace in stress ?!
  • Well, let’s say peace needs peace, I need peace too, but before that we must struggle I guess, we can’t deny the nature of life, it’s been having a intention to give a valuable lesson that might fill this weary soul out of this dusty thoughts, while I may still find peace somehow now or later.

©vss_scribblings

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Be safe jatto Highway 401
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#canada #study #trucks #life #indiansincanada #visa #immigration #dream #drive #luxury #home #lifestyle #struggle #hardwork #jatt #canadagyaan #highereducation #ielts #toefl #ieltsspeaking #mood #motivation #snow #nightlife #toronto #travel #explore #instagram #follow4followback #daily (at Vancouver, British Columbia)
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10:44 am

नवम्बर बिना कविता लिखे ही निकल गया. कविताएँ पढ़ीं भी बहुत कम इस महीने. जैसे कविताओं ने मुझसे मुंह घुमा लिया है. टकटकी बाँध कर देखे जाने लायक कुछ रहा भी नहीं फ़िलहाल मुझमे. कहानियां-कविताएँ मन में गड्ड-मड्ड होते रहती हैं, कभी बहुत आत्मीय रहे आदमी की तरह जिससे बस अब हाल-चाल पूछने तक का ही साबका है और ऐसा होना थोड़ा ख़ुश और बहुत सारा उदास कर देता है.

सुबह उठना एक शीघ्र स्खलित हो जाने वाले पुरुष की तरह होता है. बहुत थोड़े देर के लिए उत्साही, प्रयत्नशील और आशावान.. जिसके तुरंत बाद ही आता है ग्लानि, दुःख, क्षोभ और हताशा का लम्बा दौर जो इतना निर्दयी, निजी और लम्बा होता है कि बाकी लोगों के लिए मज़ाक बन कर रह जाता है. 

क्या कुछ भी मेरे बस में है? 

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We can all take something positive from the class of 2020; to accept what has happened in the past, to embrace the present, and to remain open to the probability that it will get better in the future. I hear echoes of Stephen Pollan in that advice: With gratitude, optimism becomes sustainable.

—  Michael J. Fox, No Time Like the Future: An Optimist Considers Mortality (Flatiron Books, November 17, 2020) 

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Brandon Taylor, Real Life
You can’t just decide what is too hard for someone else.
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Turr paye pardess nu
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I remember the first time I learned how to act.

It was in sixth grade. I did not have any friends. I can imagine, for them I was the wierd shy girl that never spoke to anyone. However, inside my head, things looked entirely different.

When I would wake up at night, I would dread looking at the clock. Because if it was anytime near 7 o'clock I would have to get up. And getting up meant having to talk to people. It sounds harmless, but in my mind, talking to someone was synonymous to being inside a burning house.

I would walk in and sit down, not get up once until we had lunch. It was too dangerous to leave my seat. Was I even allowed to? Would everyone judge me if I got up to throw something to the trash?

During breaks I sat down. By myself. I would want to read but what if other people saw me? Would they think I was bragging? Would they think that I though I was smarter because I read? Would they hate me?

So I left my books inside my bag. Only got them out when I knew I was alone. When people were around I would just sit there. By myself. Looking at all the other students playing. That’s how I realized I needed glasses. Sometimes I would dare to take out my phone. I would watch Videos I had downloaded. Even smile at those videos.

During class I barely spoke. Until teacher told me I had to speak. If they wanted me to, I had to. Doing otherwise would not be safe. So every class I pushed. Said the first shit that came to mind. Not thinking at all about the content but about how I would articulate every word. My throat always closed up. I hated having to cough and clear my throat before I got out any sentence. What if they noticed?

The voices started at that point too. “What yous said was stupid as hell.” “He had already said that.” “No one understood what you meant.” Eeven though I was drowning in those thoughts, I kept forcing myself, pushing the knife deeper in, because I did not have a choice.

Then I learned to act.

If was art class. I had been watching a music video on my phone. We had to cut some themed glasses out of cardboard. I chose the video as my theme. We had to present and explain our glasses before the class. I dreaded that moment.

But you want to know what it happened?

I acted.

For once, words flew out of my lips. I was able to explain what I meant. I smiled and varied the tone of my voice to emulate happiness. I answered questions and invented explanations on the spot to why I had chosen which colour. I was able to look my teacher in the eye.

I got an A+.

To this day I have no idea how that happened.

But I kept getting better at acting.

When going to the supermarket, I would memorize what people said before me to the cashier and emulate it to perfection. It felt safe.

I started to hang out with people. Always agreed. Smiled and laugehd where I had to. Raised my hand in class everytime I could. Fueled by the fear of my failure if I didn’t.

I learned that people like someone that makes them smile. I got accepted if I got all the answers right. Getting perfect grades meant people would ask me how to do their math. They liked getting the help and I liked the attention.

Almost as if I could fit in.

I still hated the alarm clock. When my grandfather died, for the first time in my life, I started thinking about death as a release. I could not fathom the idea of not getting a perfect score. I did not even bother thinking about what I wanted, I just did what felt safe. Being liked.


People hate presenting in front of a crowd. It’s difficult for them. I can do that to perfection. Just put on the mask, let it melt with your skin, smile and act confident. People like that. Teachers give you good grades and students admire you.

I kept playing that game. Did not even bother considering that was not me. Did I even have the luxury of being my own person? No. I had to do what was safe. And acting meant being safe.

I graduated high school. Won three prizes. Was valedictorian even though I had skipped a school year.

No one saw the nights I spent crying because I could not handle getting anything worse than an A-. No one saw the times I clawed my skin open because I was not able to memorize. No one saw how I forced myself to sit 6 hours in a row to get it right. No one saw I was never invited to parties. No one saw the panic attacks. No.one saw the obsessive thoughts. No one saw the scars.

Yesterday, I had a breakdown. Thought about that one bridge. Thought about who would cry. Whom I would leave a letter to.

Today, I talked to some friends at uni. Math papers were due tomorrow. They were difficult. We had not managed much. I smiled, sat upright and explained how we would split the work. Told them we would get it done somehow. Cracked jokes as I showed them my equations.

I guess once you learn how to act, it just stays with you.

I dont worry about people finding out about my struggles. For starters, I know most people won’t see what they don’t want to see. Their intentional blindness offers a perfect hiding spot.

But most importantly, I am a perfect actor. I have tried on and mastered so many masks, I have lost track of them. I know how to act my way out of suspicions.

That’s what us struggling people are supposed to do, right? The only way we can function and be accepted by society. Isn’t that fucked up?

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I feel guilty for eating an actual meal. A healthy meal. A balanced meal. But I haven’t allowed myself to do that in a while. I feel like giving in tonight to my hunger pains just made me weaker. Logically I know how messed up this is. I know my therapist would say “you’re feeding the healthy side of your brain and starving the eating disorder brain”, and it would be a victory to her. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like a defeat to me.

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