Dying passions are all I have these days, I feel like I’ll never be able to do anything, anything that I wanted to…!

Look, what failures can do to one.

 

Writing… well my DEAR Transmitter is no more interested in me, and I, myself on my own account was never much of a writer…! It has been almost a year that I would have been bestowed upon with a poem…

Even if I want to I can’t, I simply can’t write…!

 

I am such a child, its impossible for me to face a failure manly(womanly… whatever). one damnable failure (and not even a failure if you ask others) and everything start looking gloomy. I lose every single drop of confidence that I ever had…!

 

I want to write, I really, really want to write, any bullshit that’ll pacify me, that’ll make me think, that I am not dead yet, that I still have enough in me to be the person I always have wanted to be.

 

I am such an idiot as to destroy my hard work of months by negligence of days. I have a way of destroying whatever good comes my way. I have of letting go whatever success is destined to come in my hand, what is already IN MY HAND. I let the diamond slip as if it was sand, it is that easy to let go, and then that remorse, that regret, deep regret that kills, and never let you rest. you wake up every morning, and you don’t want to face the world, you want to sleep again. You secretly wish you never had to wake up, at least with this regret, you try finding a way to make to improve things, but nothing can improve you. You want to escape the reality, the failure, you want to run away, you hate everything that ever was connected with that failure.

 

Apart from writing, I have other passions too, my involvement in science. My childhood dream to become a scientist, funny? oh I don’t care about its sounding that way. But now I feel I am just another person, there are thousands like me, not even hundreds… thousands …! What difference I am gonna make?

Question: Am i capable enough as to make a difference, “even a little one”?  I beg in my heart, I want it, can’t bear it to be otherwise.

Question: would I be consistent enough? Do I have enough passion to last me there? I am very doubtful about me, I have my way of losing things, can not be sure about myself. I am not reliable.

I will not last long with this weak a will power.

Its breaking me to be apart from my friends, they were a constant support, I am without a backbone now, very limping. They had an essence in them that I fail to find in anyone else; being with an altogether different company is affecting me inwardly. I fail to understand why my dreams, my goals are loosing clarity just cause I am away from THEM. Why? so dependant…? The Yamna Rehman Khan who gives a damn to everybody, that yamna?

 

DON’T WANT TO LOOSE MY ESSENCE.

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