Indian American Love Child

I've tried to write the last couple of months, but truthfully something seemed off every time I picked up the pen. Every time I wrote, it felt like:  1. My words didn’t capture what I was truly feeling. Not the depth or the scope of the pain, confusion, hurt, self doubt, loneliness or the plethora of other emotions I was feeling or had felt during that time 2. I KNEW whatever I was feeling and expressing was also SUPER transient, sometimes even changing moment to moment.  And so, I decided that even though the pen was and is, one of my favorite outlets, writing  was probably in some ways, not the best for me. The thing with written word is, it is permanent. You can not unwrite it, un say it, or in any way, deny it. If i wrote what i was feeling and thinking at one of my lowest points...it would, in a way, give validation to them. And more than just validation, it would take them from what could just be transient thoughts and feelings to a more concrete rea...

A million thoughts torment my mind, a restlessness from which I can not unwind, I crave an escape from my own mental anguinsh, a thoughtless oasis to which I may vanish Thoughts that range from deep to mundane, an internal storm that has me feeling insane. Thoughts of wants, of needs, of unfilled desires Thoughts of success to which I can aspire Thoughts of an untold future, Thoughts of a heart broken beyond suture. Thoughts of such blissful love, the kind I could only dream of. Thoughts of what ifs, should I's, or will it none reassuring in the slightest bit Thoughts that invoke a sense a fear, Thoughts from which I shed a tear A self inflicted torture from which I wish to be free These seesaw thoughts have drained me So Sing, Sing, Sing me to sleep, Steal each mental thread, and with each strand may you weave, a net so tight, that no other thought may trespass it's hold, and only sweet dreams I may behold ...