I love it when we ( you, my alter ego, and I) always wash dishes, music playing in the background. I feel like we usually let ourselves get immersed in the moment, in the act. It’s pure bliss. We always push everything away and build our own world. A world where everything is alright. A world where perfection is not key and I matter. A world which sadly crumbles down when you veer off and start poking me, poking my thoughts.

You hate who I am. You hate that I’m always mostly sad and can’t figure out why. You hate that I constantly compare myself to others. You hate that I at times find myself jealous of my friend. I’m jealous of how her life is completely satisfying and less depressing than mine. I’m jealous that her business is fast picking up, that she is constantly figuring ways to express herself. You hate that I should be happy she’s starting a YT channel and a podcast but instead I feel a mixture of both jealousy and happiness. Jealousy cause she’s doing things, she’s living life. I’m jealous that she’s finding a happy place in her relationship and yet I am still struggling to get closure. You hate that I should be supporting her but I’m hanging on a cloud of self-judgment and comparison.

You hate that I can never look into my sister’s eyes when she’s talking to me, cause I fear she might look into them and find out how I feel about her, how I find her disinteresting nowadays, how I blame her for some of my troubles, that I abhor her cooking, it’s inconsistency, how one day it will be bad and the next day good( can’t she just choose to be either a bad or good cook and not roam in between), how I don’t like the man she insists on getting engaged to, that he’s so full of himself and drinks like crazy, that he cheats on her and she continues to be with him, maybe it’s cause she also cheats on him.

You find my lack of a guy friend disturbing. You don’t like how I tend to never reach out to my male acquaintances and develop friendships. You hate that if I were to have a wedding right now I’d have to hire a Kevin Hart to be my best man. You think it’s significant to have at least one. You hate that I don’t care about it and blame it on a flawed argument of male egos.

You hate that I never seem to have a standing. That I’m always on the fence. Drifting constantly. That I don’t have any great passion. That should I be asked to talk about something for five minutes, I’d never find a topic to last that long.

You hate that I’m constantly losing the joy in writing. You hate how I loathe my stories. How I constantly feel like they are a cover up , fake. How they revolve around stupid love stories. How they never seem to touch on anything worthwhile. How I’m losing it, my creativity. How I nowadays ain’t emotional when writing. How I never really feel relief after writing.

A random drawing of somebody that I totally don’t know, undergoing agonising mental pain , from Pinterest

You hate that I can’t talk to my father like the adult I am. You hate that I’m constantly questioning my adultness. You hate that the other day he was going on on this flawed argument that dreads are for thieves and shady people , and I didn’t say anything back yet I had a lot to say on it. You hate that I plan on getting dreads. Cause I want to , and also just to spite him but I can’t really do it. You hate that I don’t want to admit that I’m afraid of him. I’m afraid of talking back to him. He can’t beat me up , I just swallow back the words I want to say to him. You hate that I ain’t close to him. That our conversations are all about education and the weather. That I always just sit there with him in awkward silence staring at my phone.

You hate that I’m still hanging on to an ended relationship. You hate that I couldn’t even remember her other two names yet I claimed to be into her. You hate that I really didn’t make an effort till she left. You hate that I constantly stalk her IG to see if she’s moved on. I hate that she never posts anything. You hate that I find myself absent-mindedly calling her, yet I know too well that she blocked me.

You hate that I haven’t figured out what I’ll do with my life career-wise. You hate that I can’t seem to find something that I’m really good at. You hate that I’m average at everything. You hate that I’m constantly seeking to redefine myself yet I don’t know who I am in the first place. You hate that at times I get stupid nightmares marred with the failure life I’m leading, how I can’t always find a way to wake up from it. It’s a deep dark unending hole that I fall into.

You hate that I never appreciate the few people that make my life liverable.

Your hate my optimistic and pure crowd pleaser attitude.

You hate me, who I am.

You hate that I’m listening to I lost a friend on loop while writing this yet in truth I’ve lost myself.


We all have moments where we dwell on negative thoughts, moments where we feel our lives are the worst ever, moments where the world just seems like some shit hole and you’re the shit. I won’t give you any sage advice on how to go about these moments. Crap, I’m still dealing with mine. Just know you ain’t alone.

Finally, I discovered this song this week. It’s somehow chilled. By chilled, I dont mean sleep inducing slow. And it has a story line!!!! You should listen to it, its called escape by Rupert Holmes. Disclaimer, its a 1979 song and totally has nothing to do with post i.e it ain’t depressing.


6 thoughts on “Introspections

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