Venting.

I tried to translate my fears, my angst, my sadness, my insecurities into sentences. 

In vain, the very attempt at it, is a pain in the ass. 

At times, it feels like choking on the noose of thoughts around my throat.

Each breathe, like a trapeze act.

Past few weeks had me lose my shit (I don't talk civil, when I vent).

Two consecutive, unexpected  deaths of closed ones, got me into a delirium ( I don't wanna use the word depression, too cliché and so middle class!)

I had anxiety attacks that brought back my Asthma after 3 years and truck loads of misery. The only thing I could dream or see was the image of my Ammamma (still alive) dying.And believe me, it still tops on the list of my nightmares.I've heard countless lectures on how death is inevitable and blah blah, from cousins, friends and my parents who couldn't bare to see me struggle. Also, every time I tried to open up with a few of my close ones, I back down, because I didn't always wanna be their sad friend, the one with problems. 

So, I kept at it, popping pills, trying to keep my anxiety low, nevermind the tremors and the dizziness. My nights are a restless battle between  spotify playlists, absurd YouTube videos and constantly  checking on my grandmother,  every half an hour. Amma understands because she'd been there too.But it isn't seeming to help, I lay afloat like a corpse, body half drowning and mind strangled in the waters of fear and anxiety.I know,  I make  up these in my mind. But  I'm sorry, 'Don't overthink', 'Thinking too much' , has never done any good.

I got into unnecessary fights with my friends, ghosted many, and cried over steaming pasta  I cook at 3 am. Whatever I'm going through, I know not, what's the end of it.

All I know is, I try, I really try.

But I'm on the losing end. Either I'm annoyingly  social or disturbingly distant.

And to all the people to whom I seem to be a paradox, you have zero chances of being wrong.