Guilt
Guilt
The urge to remain where we are, not wanting to move, not wanting to change and then feeling guilty for not achieving, for not changing, for not beginning, for not ending, for not continuing.
Standing in front of the mirror yet avoiding it to not witness the failure achieved, to avoid the reflection of the coward who refused to give the best, who chose to ignore everything.
The guilt of not putting efforts and then reading the disappointed expressions hidden beneath the acts of consolation. To show that you worked when you never did and when they say, “At least you gave your best. That’s what matters”
How do you break it to them? How do you present your cowardness, your lethargy, your unfaithfulness. And then, you opt for a path you never thought you would take. You become something with a void building within. All the emotions that were never expressed eventually stop hurting, they become a habit. The void gradually growing consumes all the emotions leaving a creature too selfish to even care. Showing acceptance for something you should’ve fought harder for but you leave it, you leave yourself where you were.
But in all of this, one thing remains,
The guilt of not feeling guilty. The constant war to define it, to categorise it as justification or an excuse. But these words seem inappropriate, what do you think would fit?
Cowardice, distracted, remiss or the inertia of not moving ahead from the information to know the difference to the wisdom of making one?
More Posts from Thewritingark and Others
Preparing felt a burden then, Because the performance never improved.
Blinded Eyes
I trusted my eyes blindly,
I guess that's what humans do.
But my illusion shattered,
As the pigments of lies,
Reflected the fictitious truth.
The light was biased, I believed,
But its innocence was trapped in an endless loop.
Refusing to bow before the unproven facts,
I decided to perceive it with a different view.
I tried to become a pigment myself,
Reflecting my sins into actions my apathy sew.
But the law of the cosmos remained constant,
I surrendered, confessing to my vengeance's coup.
~ark
Materialism is a lie. It is a delusional lie and it should not be leading the culture. Not when we are spiritual beings.
Gigi Young
I expected the whole world, But now, I have accepted my own world.
~ark
Alone
All the answers known, I still chose to stay silent. Although I needed someone by my side, I chose to remain on a barren island. All the truths uncovered, I chose to act unknown, My true self drowned in the ink of guilt, I was ashamed to be shown. Descending in the darkness alone, Forbidden from the feeling of ‘home’. I was a stain for the eyes, That was meant to be on its own.
~ark
And, when I held it in my hands, I realized how beautiful, Someone's creation can be. How beautiful someone's vision can be, Their creativity, their minds, How beautiful a person can be.
~ark
The Favourite?
The song I loved the most yesterday
On repeat, at the top of my playlist
Has now drifted away
It isn't that special
The memories it has, isn't my life now
The tears dried, that once fell due to its symphony
The ability it once had to put rhythm in every thought of mine,
Now, there is nothing to convey
From reality to memories
From the favourite one to one of them
It was a short journey,
I don't even remember how and when.
~ark
Colorful Fears
The colors fought,
Refusing to blend into each other.
They wanted to be different,
They had to be a unique color.
Accepting their death,
At least we would have a memorial.
But they realized, they were being thrown away,
Because the canvas had accepted itself,
It refused to be hidden behind the colorful fears.
~ark
My Memories
I was patient, or so I thought. I counted every moment, To witness the thing, I yearned to see for long. But it came and ended so soon. Glimpses danced in my mind, While I waited for it once again. My tears that reflected the luminescence of my moon, Refused to fall, as the memories would drain too. The future became the past, My mind mourning at the memorials, Eyes blinded by hopes, Should I consider my comfort a curse or a boon?
~ark
With a glint in her eyes, hungry to be heard and loved, looked around herself, she was all alone, all by herself.
She had no major problems in her life nor did she want all eyes on her. It was a search for a pair of eyes, deep as an ocean, for she could drown in them and vanish.
With stories unwritten, she remained responsible, priorities remained unhinged. But it was there in her mind somewhere, to weave a beautiful story once, from her memories and not from her imagination.
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