... and I'm feeling much, much better. That's it. :)
that mental writer
I'm a writer of few words who is really trying to make sense here.
Friday, April 17, 2026
Thursday, April 16, 2026
recovery
So, yesterday, in my muted rage, I almost hit my eardrums with my pen. I had held my pen so tightly and had this strong urge to burst my eardrums, so that I could turn deaf and not listen to anyone anymore. But like they say, better sense prevailed; that thought left me as quietly as it had appeared. I was in the office and didn't want to create a scene, so I kept my pen down. All this shit hasn't thankfully affected my work performance.
I discovered that there is something called a madafcking post-menstrual syndrome. (exCuSe mY frEnch.) Because, like everyone, I googled my symptoms instead of going to a doctor and landed on a page by Healthline that implied that I may have had this idiotic POMS for this particular cycle. As if PMS and PMDD weren't enough to torture me. Anyway. I'm doing relatively better today. While I didn't ride today, I slept properly. The rage has subsided slightly. It feels like the calm after the shitstorm. To my surprise, I even found myself chatting with a familiar friendly face on the commute to work. Usually, I bury my head in a book so that no one bothers me. Even she must have been surprised, I guess, or not. Whatever.
I will hopefully start riding my bike from tomorrow. I need that dopamine spike badly. Yours truly is, hopefully, on an emotional recovery.
Wednesday, April 15, 2026
rollercoaster
Friday, April 10, 2026
exorcised
Went cycling today. That blood-sucking, diabolical demon in me has been temporarily exorcised. It may awaken next month, probably. Who knows. Not that I don't do anything to contain it. Maybe I should restart journaling so that I won't explode every time my hormones are going for a toss.
Made up with N; the poor guy was licking his wounds. Told him to ignore all the shit I had laid on him the previous night. Told him that the demon made me do it. But who am I kidding? He's surely hurt, but kind enough to not show it to me. Why is he so pathetically kind towards me? I'd never understand. Seriously. I don't deserve such kindness or love or anything. How will he forget the shit I made him go through? How will he forget how much I have hurt him? And why should he? He doesn't deserve to be treated like this. Maybe one day, when I am gone, he will quietly breathe a sigh of relief that he will not have to deal with me and my demonic outbursts any longer. Hopefully, that day will come soon.
Thursday, April 9, 2026
going mental
Wednesday, April 8, 2026
infuriated
Wednesday, March 18, 2026
sacrifice
How to choose between two things that are equally important to you? Last Saturday, I got a brand new ankle tatt, but had to stop cycling for a few days to protect my tattoo. Last month, too, I couldn't take part in the cyclothon because I got both my hands tatted. It broke my heart into ten thousand pieces when I couldn't take part in my first-ever cyclothon.
It felt like I had to sacrifice my baby to Satan. I know this may sound a bit dramatic as an example, but that's how I felt. Anyway. I hope I will be able to gather that same momentum in a few days once I can get back to cycling.
I rode today...
... and I'm feeling much, much better. That's it. :)
-
I'm alive. (I'm telling this to myself.) I know I haven't paid this blog my usual depressing visit in a while, but I'm arou...
-
I remember thinking that the day mon petit frère gets married, my life's purpose will come to an end. Like, I'm living on this plane...
-
I almost died this Tuesday—without me even trying this time. I was attempting to jump onto the overcrowded Virar-bound train during the pea...