how's your rehab?

have you ever thought how you're just a brain controlling organic locomotive parts? but no, you decide you're gonna populate so hard you gotta locomote to your job and do non-survival shit to get your bread and survive. but we're here now. I'm here now. It's been a while. but do you remember how Elliot didn't remember he was in prison in the last season that mattered in Mr Robot? yeah no nevermind it's not that bad. not nearly as bad as the analogy i tried to make either.

I've been here only three weeks now. hiding out in this city that doesn't sleep. in my room, alone, keeping this journal like it'll be found someday. except, i'm really not, am i? maybe this isn't so different from Mr. Robot after all. hey, look. we're in rehab. I'm just here. You're just there. I'm here, away from my toxic self. You're there; Away from me.

I don't get the time or space to be alone a lot, so i have very little things in mind. and you get the time and space to be alone a lot too. wish i knew what's on your mind. but hey, this is your time away from me.

a toast, to self-sabotage.

there's always gonna be people who are gonna try to fix you. it breaks their heart to even see you as even a fraction of the hurt that you can really be. you might feel it's noble, but think about it. it's the same reason you don't find excitement in normal people. it's the same reason you chase someone with a story to tell. someone. someone pretending to be someone else, and she's so good, most people don't notice. you look for the ones with scars. the ones that tilt their head a little while they listen to you. the ones that make the air feel alive because you feel like there's more out there, right there in front of you, than you can currently see.

find the chance to dive deep into someone else, you don't have dive deep inside yourself. you don't really like your own stories anyway.

"what do you really think of me Ashmit?"

"i think you're pretending to be someone else. there's a lot more than you let on."

"how do you know that?"

"i don't think I have an answer.. maybe I don't need to drink for me to know things.."

sometimes, you don't have an answer, because that's the thing, you don't really have an explanation to support your answer. sometimes, it's because you have too many of them, and don't know which one to pick. maybe more than one is right. maybe all of them are.

maybe it was because I generally don't get along with people, but i was getting along with you. maybe it was the fact that you didn't find that last statement of mine funny which was a tick in my list of checkboxes. maybe I knew because i felt like you found me at a time when I really wasn't looking to be found. maybe it was the fact that you'd mention my name at the end of your sentences as opposed to the beginning. maybe it was because I suddenly felt alive, and I really couldn't fathom why. maybe it was because I liked you, and I only like the ones with stories to tell.

maybe none of them are right.

people love you for your flaws in the beginning because it helps take their mind off theirs. they can wrap up all around you and give you the shelter you think you need. they stay around to make sure you get warm and dry. so that you can feel nurtured and safe. so that you can grow your own shelter. you feel nurtured. you feel safe. enough to take your clothes off. get naked. even feel naked. but hey, your flaws, they don't seem to go away. your shelter stands unbuilt, and eventually, they realise that their problems are now bigger, and they don't have time for yours. they hurry back to their lives, resuming like they were completely on pause, leaving you all alone again, this time without clothes.

where's my pause button? heck, just give me a rewind. or a stop. I don't care.

you're allowed to feel bad. people always fall into this pattern. people always leave. but open your eyes. people, are your high. you sniff 'em out in the world. take it easy. take your time with it all. for a while. but then you dive deep one day and hence starts your timed dopamine fuelled bender. it's the most intense you've felt in forever. it's all smiles, and laughs. the smiles don't go away even when you realise you've said something really mean and you're waiting for a smile to leave a face so you can apologise like you really mean it. are they really happy? or are they too, just tripping on you, like you are on them?

like all highs, the lows come crashing equally harder. that's all that shall be said about it.

what do you do with all the songs you cannot bring yourself to listen to anymore?

i hate the weekends. even in mumbai. there's things to distract me with. things to motivate me. things to keep me away from vices I don't need. but the weekends are lonely. i hate the weekends. even in rehab.