The Life of an Ambivert

Here I sit. Waiting.  Waiting for the brownies to be done. Waiting for the silence to resume. Waiting for my patience to run out.  Like a statue I wait, unabated by my surroundings, completely absorbed into the tippy-tappy of my phone keyboard.  I don't want to walk over and turn on the air conditioning, so I sweat it out. Sitting on the couch, hunched over, like a gargoyle. But unlike the winged statue, I am not made of granite. I have to move.  Only question remains, to where and how? (the brownies are not metaphorical)

I built my own pyre, I sat on it and lit it. I feel like I'm drowning and choking. The pyre was created unintentionally, in the shadows. It waited for me, like a patient ill omen.  It has been many months since I built it. I don't remember when I got on. I don't remember when I struck the match. All I felt was this immense heat, eating away at my being.  I can't get off, my legs betray me. I am the fuel that keeps it ablaze.  I am a fool. A gambler. The worst kind. The kind who have it good, but throw it away knowing the risks anyway.  I shouldn't be drowning, yet there exists a bowl full of fluid attached to a vise around my neck.  I can't use the liquid to douse the flames, it's like oil. Viscous and tarry, it reaches for my nose.  The lies are all that keep me sane. I tell myself I can't feel the pain. The flames lick away at my skin.  How do I escape this here predicament? 

 Something I learnt recently. I apologize too much. I apologize for my mistakes, my shortcomings, and my general self. Somehow, I began to apologize for everything else too. For others' misfortunes, unruly circumstances and generally, bad luck. I thought I was being empathetic. Maybe I was, in the beginning. Now it has morphed into a mechanism. It seems selfish now, almost benign. I have to stop saying sorry for things that are out of my control.  Fortunate for me, I learnt to do that recently. Unfortunately, it was too late when I did. 

 I just spent the last ten hours sleeping, dreaming up the most absurd thing ever. Cannot categorize it under a dream because it was too horrorcore, like 80's experimental horror, except taken to its maximum. I mean real fringe stuff. Stuff they make separate websites for since its too mature even for adults.  Cannot categorize it under nightmare because it was too cinematic, what with its wide angles, overhead shots, forced perspectives and locked on frames.  I keep coming back to Freud's popular quote," dreams are wish fulfillments." (obviously paraphrased).  And this is what bothers me. I don't watch a lot of movies with gore or ultra-violence, apart from those that are used to drive the plot, like A Clockwork Orange. This means that anything I dreamt of the previous night, I didn't draw from experience, it was completely original.  At first glance it felt similar to the 2000 hit 'Battle Royale'. All the contestants battling it out, in this living r...