Full Circle

Some days, I just stare at the blank page, and nothing comes to mind. What is it that I had wanted to note down? How did I want to remember today? Normally, I think of something during the day and it makes me feel something. I hold on to that thought to explore it further at night. That is what I ahve been doing. I'm sure I had a couple of ideas today as well. Yet at the moment I am drawing a blank. I do know one thing, though, everytime I sit down to work, cross by a mirror, or go down the stairs, my bulging belly disgusts me. I feel ashamed and like I should cry about it. Yet today I felt like ordering something anyway.

I did not, I just ate more from home than perhaps necessary. Once the hunger was gone, so were the cravings. I feel like I'm at a point where I know what's what. I know pretty well the reasons behind my current physical state, and ecatly what I need to do in order to imporve it. I see no value in contemplating upon it any longer. Writing itself tires me out. But tired is good. I feel apalled at my lack of progress. But putting a stop to outright destruction is commendable in itself. No matter how insignificant and fruitless it may seem, this life is extremely difficult. Not making the perfect attempt, but swinging it. Unable to make progress, but holding my ground.

I should recognize the value of these small battles. I feel guilty each time I hear the words positive habits. I know too well how awful mine are already. I want everyone I know to leave me alone while I try to make real progress, but I want to bring my parents along. The truth is, this is what it is. This is the form my battle has taken, and I must honor and respect it. I remember doing many reckless things, thinking I will deal with it later. The utter disregard for consequences, and putting it off for the future. Well, I do not choose my own punishment. I may feel like it is too late to even dream of becoming a fit, beautiful person. I genuinely feel like it's too late for me to learn things, sharpen my brain, and study anything properly.

I feel doomed to be stupid, fat, lazy, and unproductive forever. Yet, I literally have the whole rest of my life in front of me. In the right environment, I went from being 85 kg to 63 kg in just six months. In the wrong one, I went from 63 to 98, in just over a year. All the while going with the flow. I am likely at the worst point of my life, and this is a far cry from a good environment. But for the first time ever, I feel like I have a chance at designing my own. I have more autonomy than ever before, and I will resist the temptaion to give into fear and self-hatred. Considering that I may live till seventy-five, and truly, really live five to ten years before reaching my peak, the best thing I can do is be patient.

Resist the urge to self implode. Resist the urge to run away or toward. No need to blame, writhe, cry, or laugh. No point in flailing my arms and legs around in vain. The best thing I can do for myself is to relax. To calm down, and learn to do nothing. If I can learn to put myself at ease, I can be free from the worst of my demons. The drugs, the substances, I do not need them. If I can be free from the high of riding the dragon, I am free to build myself up from the ground. Shifting my perspective from desparately catching up, to ensuring my mental, emotinal, and spiritual freedom for the rest of my life on Earth. 

What is it that I want to do? I want to feel light, be quick, and move easy. I want to be proud of my body when I see it in the mirror. I want to breathe without feeling an ounce of strain and feel confident when I walk. I wish to feel like I deserve to be among others, and that I demand respect. Worthy of good clothes, fine things, and kind smiles. Worhty of warmth, of touch, of embrace. I want to feel in control of my ow body. I want ot feel control over my urges, and my thoughts, feelings, and emotions. I want to feel the energy of my body in motion, and have the ability to direct, and redirect the flow of that motion.I want to speak my truth so others would listen, and I cannot do that until I feel I am worthy.

I cannot feel worthy until I look much better. A person's body is the shape of their soul. Not who they are on the inside, all their loft dreams and emotions, but their real actions, choices and circumstances. It is a sum total of every action they have taken before. That's what I believe in in my heart. Even if I know that a person's situation can be extremely different from the many aspects of their reality. I also know how many things can collide and lead to behaivors that cause a person to fall further away from who they are on the inside. I should know, more than anyone else, that people are not what they look like on the outside. That a book is not to be judged by its cover, and we do not know anything about a person by looks alone.

I feel like this is a fundamental part of what I want to do in life. I want to create things. I want to create art professionally for people. To craft words and polish language. To draw characters in action. I want to be part of a storytelling adventure. I want to collaborate with a team of others, I want to dig deep and make something by myself. A novel, a story, a book, and a movie. A script for a TV show, an anime, and a comic book. I want to draw and draw and draw, until my ink runs out and  my arms are aching. I want to grind until I can bring forth the ideas and visions that come to me in my dreams both day and night. I want to read and study and learn so I can write and earn. I want to build a useful service, a practical brand and company that actually brings value to people's everyday life. 

I want to work with food and give back to that wonderful world a small fraction of what it has given me, if not a million times more. Above anything else, those are the things I want to do. I want to feel like there is work out there that needs to be done, things that only I can do. I want to jump out of my bed for them, and feel this immense state of flow, like how I am feeling right now. A pure, unending, stream of consciousness. One glorious but humble task after another. Again and again, till the point of failure. Then I want to celebrate louder than I have ever before. 

It's funny, now that I say it. How everything has been turned on its head. I had wanted so desparately to get out of this town and have expriences. I remember running away from a seemingly boring life of no remark. A life of working with your head down, with no want for any kind of pleasure. I remember feeling starved for love, affection, connection, and joy. I felt bored out of my fucking mind, and wanted to run away from it all. I quit a course I was doing on animation, because it meant sitting in front of a desk all day, doing lifeless work in an empty box. I left it all behind, because I couldn't escape from the drugs that surrounded me. Weed, alcohol, cigarettes, and shows. There was nothing even mildly appealing about life other than those. Yet they all made me feel so empty that it hurt.

I was suffocating, and not just literally, on account of the tar in my lungs. I left it all to go live in an exciting city. Pune. A land of music festivals, modern women, bar hopping, and night outs. Where food was tasty, beer was cold, and weed was green. But I was more interested in the people. I was starving for them. In the time I lived there, I did every single thing I could. I went to every single music festival, made tons of great friends, lived in the hostel, lived outside, went on roadtrips, camping, barbeques, and much more. I also did a metric ton of drugs. Yet I never felt like I belong. Actually, I felt rather happy on the camping and hiking trips, now that I mention it. But everywhere I went, I felt inadequate.

That was the bane of my existence. I never felt like I was worthy for any of it. And I still haven't escaped that feeling. The only was to feel worthy, is to pick a mountain that actually matters to me, adn to start climbing. By myself. Just like all those times I did before. I felt worried and anxious and horrible, so I went on a climb to see where I could go, and explore the lands unknown. Except whenever I cam back down, things felt shit again. It was because the climb is inherently fulfilling, but rewards must be needed to be enjoyed. Rewards must be earned in the truest sense of the word. Like an existential fact of reality, as ineffable as it is unalienable. One must weigh everything and take an honest, if not brutal stock of their entire existence. Determine what they have always lacked, forsee what they might need, and easnestly start to work toward them. 

This is what lies ahead of me now. I take solace in the fact that I know what must be done, and I recognize the luxury of coming full circle as I have. My journey was not fruitless, for I have found myself along the way. For this, it was necessary for me to leave the coup. After longer then I can remember, I feel a sense of gratitude. I feel an urge to sit with it. Perhaps even a sense of obligation to take it all in. Indeed it's been longer than I can recall since I felt like basking in and cherishing the present moment, taking in every ounce of appreciation toward it. In how many ways can I muster up to say that Thank You? Not a forceful or obligatory gartitude that has strings attached of long term reward. But a kind, warm, and joyful smile toward a native who has set me back on my path. Without you, I would be lost. Consider this my prayer, and my celebration. 

Thanking You,

Your Truly,

Me.