Who Am I?

He picked up the pen and was trying to find a piece of paper to write on. But what? what to write now? Will there be eyes to just look at it? Minds to explore it? Then why? why should he write, for whom? And, why for others? Why not himself? and then he started…

Dear Myself,

I hope you are doing well…

So am I..

Like always, trying to hide my self from others. Trying to give everyone what they want, how they want it.

Lying when required and silencing my inner demons, to maintain the order.

To make others feel valued, but what about me?

Have I ever done something for myself? For me in particular? I don't think so…

Am I dillusioned?

Or I am deformed, weird as they say.

Someone, who is not welcomed until you need them and they are your last option…

Am I the substitute thought? Like when they are about to lose hope, I am the last one?

So I am hope… for someone, feels good.

But what about the feelings, who am I?

Why is it that I have forgotten my self in service?

Why is it that I have to make sacrifices all the time?

Why can’t I just…. shout or cry or simply… keep silence…

Why is it that, this world seems deprived of love and affection?

Why its just me who can see all the misery around?

Why am I considering myself the source of peace and tranquility when I am the most disturbed soul..

Maybe we spread what we lack the most… Maybe?

Maybe its just a lie, and I am a liar, am I?

Then why?

Why is it so, complicated..

Why am I so contended with this complication?

Putting up with it, going on a journey that, doesn’t have a destination…

Why is it that, everything around me is looking for me?

Why am I taking others’ troubles as my own?

Is it that I think I am the savior?

Someone who couldn’t save himself?

Who is troubled himself, dejected by the system for being, a freethinker?

Why am I fighting and what am I fighting for or against?

Who is my opposition or ally?

Infact in this fight what is my position?

Opressed? Opressor?

Why I couldn’t destroy myself when I should have, I could have…

When I had a chance to let go of this life, why did I sustain it?

Many would have succumbed to the misery, yet I prevailed…

Its so unrealistic, so dramatic of me…

Its unusual, devoid of sentiments and illogical…

Its unreal, its shambolic and its demented… Am I demented?

A virus in this system?

Faking myself as normal but actually an anomaly?

What if its me, their actual trouble and once eliminated, everything will be back to normal…

Why am I not normal?

In fact, why do I resist their normalcy..

Why their normal seems fake?

WhY does it feel that they are all faking, faking a smile, faking happiness, faking emotions and faking their very existence?

Why is it that all what I believe looks true?

What if this truth is the biggest lie, the biggest mockery of reality from the biggest conman..

Am I a conman? A faker, a tragedy of this system?

Then why am I still here? Why don’t they simply eliminate me, get rid of me and leave me at peace…

Is my trouble their solution? Am I the solution or…… the trouble?

Why Am I?

Who, Am I?