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  • You know that impulsive, heart racing, mocha-pot-coming-to-a-boil sort of breathlessness that can set in when the object of your affection leaves or stays, or when you pass under his house per chance on an errand and your eyes look out for his window, eyes peeled, maybe you'd see a shadow of him passing by? When you get worried about the timings of messages, pauses between SMSes?
    This sort of a feeling almost ran my ship deep inland.
    I am wary of people who make me feel that way, it isn’t love, you know?

    I believe it’s an expression of rage. It’s rage and hope for a delivery from who you are, how you find yourself when no one else is around, rage at having to go through everything alone, craving for owning something other than yourself, demanding it to make you happy, and when it doesn’t, you try making the other happy, you overdo it, bend over backwards, get hurt, and they cringe in the cramped space. In fact I've lived through it so many times, I just automatically tune out of the feeling these days.
    While in the pit of it, I shared my story with anyone who cared to listen, then I started clamping up because I felt miserable just hearing my voice describing it, or reading my words, diaries and diaries of words. Every time it has led to a steady progression of my mind into an opium scented state (no, I don't do any hallucinogens), somewhere in an isolated forest in the Amazon straight out of Coppola's 'Apocalypse Now' (if you haven't already seen it, see the film poster you'll get the idea)

    I read some stories on Cowbird yesterday which made my day freeze, I felt pain,.. I remembered the words I'd written out myself years ago.. about flashes of faces, compromising positions I discovered myself in. I tried writing to all of you at once, but all that came out in the end was my mango story from yesterday.

    I guess I got back to thinking, almost immediately, to what I believe matters to my day everyday, here, now.

    I remembered again, how hard it was to actually stop talking about my state and taking the first step forward. Literally getting out of the bed, one leg out at a time.
    There is no other way.
    You can leave the swamp only by stepping out of it physically. We have very self-cherishing, super intelligent minds, we find philosophical, academic, metaphysical reasons to not take that first step, to keep ourselves safe, and in familiar spaces. Eventually, the same thought, the same realization catches us around the corner. Try taking the step forward then in that case, you can do it in secret for yourself. Go easy on yourself, don’t sink into guilt next, just take that step forward while you’re caught in the adrenaline of the emotion, if that’s how you get there!

    I’m sorry but I believe nothing I say will get you to snap out, everyone has their own method, you won’t believe it even if I tell you how, you're going to have to experience it for yourself, the whole process.

    I can only earnestly say this, just focus on taking that step out of the bed now.




    This photograph was shot in an old tea factory in the south of India, this is the last part of the old-school tea making process, called 'disruption', when the leaves are bruised into smaller bits so their enzymes get released and bring out the flavor of the leaf finally
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