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Escaping The Dark Reality

Escaping The Dark Reality

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I’m sorry. This isn’t a story of sunshine or stardust. This is a story of some new moon night. When the stars are shadowed by clouds and it’s about to rain. And it seems like it might just rain forever…

It’s dark.

Maybe it’s not even real.

Maybe you’re seeing things.

Closing your eyes to believe there is nothing worth seeing anymore. Maybe you’ve shut your ears so you don’t hear your friends calling. Maybe this is your choice and it is on you. Maybe you’ve made your bed and now you lie on it.

Do you know what went wrong? How did your nightmares creep it’s way into your reality? Since when did everything you imagine start getting real. And why is that all you imagined so far was cruel to yourself…

Have you ever stopped wondering what you feel about something? About everything you’ve been so far, about the road that lies ahead. Do you ever get lost and stop looking for the way back home?

Do you understand? Do you choose to? Or do you choose not to, but yet you do?

What do you do every time you consider self-loathing as an option and then think about all the lives that probably suffer more than you? Do you stop complaining because you have enough to survive? Or is it that survival itself is not enough anymore…

Well, every preacher preaches that life is about being satisfied with what you have but how do you get satisfied with ‘satisfaction’ itself? Is chasing satisfaction itself also not a paradox to the very statement I just said?

Sometimes in life you say things. You feel things. About people and about yourself and you believe in them. You believe some things are more or less universal and meant to be forever… like something as simple as your favourite fruit or your favourite colour… unless of-course proven otherwise. But have you ever felt guilty of not believing in what you once believed with your whole heart?

If you look at the big picture, you and your problems don’t exist. But why do we look at the big picture when we have our own worlds and universes within us? Isn’t our whole universe in constant jeopardy while we waste a day feeling bad about ourselves? Doesn’t our universe actually end if we ‘end’?

Have you ever controlled yourself to the limit where you can generate emotions and feelings? Generate a smile with a wounded heart or cry over absolutely nothing? To the limit where you can’t get excited unless you really analyse the situation and command your brain to raise your heart-rate? When your heart goes to hibernate and your brain gets to generate artificial goosebumps and butterflies? Now what’s that?

You don’t know, do you?

Guess, that’s what feeling terrible must be like. Guess that’s what being broken really means. ‘Broken’ doesn’t necessarily imply being sad all the times, but maybe it’s when you don’t know what to feel anymore and your brain takes over your heart in an autopilot attempt, keeping you alive while you can still breathe.

One moment you laugh a second before you even understand the joke, why, because your reflex knows to laugh when a joke comes in your ears… The other moment you console yourself that there’s nothing, really nothing to overthink about. One moment, you can’t decide what you want and so you find yourself tossing a coin to help you find out, again to miserably fail in the first attempt because you don’t really have anything to feel about the choices that you have imagined for yourself…

One evening you sleep at 7. The other you don’t get any sleepy even at 3 in the morning.

Some days, you won’t hate someone who stabs you in your chest. Some days, you won’t care for someone who cares about you.

And then there’s this other moment when you don’t even know if you’re overthinking or just not thinking enough at all.

It doesn’t really matter and that there’s nothing to worry about, isn’t it?

Well maybe sometimes life is more than just a fake smile that you see from the outside. Sometimes, some lives are more of a perfectly organised mess. Something you could easily see through without noticing the hurricanes brewing under the smirking faces.

Sometimes, the hurricanes don’t even exist.

And sometimes, you don’t know if the hurricanes ever did exist or it’s just your reality getting distorted in the process of understanding yourself with your so-called imagination.

Now what do we do when our reality gets distorted? In a way that you can’t fix it without help? When you realise it’s messed beyond the limit of self evaluation and you need someone who can look at the big picture for you and tell you what the problem really is?

What do we do to kill this reality before it kills us?

We look for escapes.

An escape from all the problems that don’t exist. From all the empty faces you’ve read so well and all the mysterious souls you never could. From all the things you over-understand now, to take a step back and long for dissatisfaction. To once again, start not-understanding things. To once again, be a little selfish, make mistakes, break some hearts including your rusted one, to try to get back to feeling hatred and love.

And we look for escapes in all sort of things.

A ‘sin of choice’.

We choose to get addicted. To give up what we have and create another alternate reality, just to escape this one that’s already so messed up.

Some use music. Play their lives on infinite loop. Some write. Scribble notes and throw them down the drain. Make paper boats that sink. Write confessions with pseudonyms. Maybe this very thing you’re reading now is messed up. And I’m creating an escape right here by writing about it. Some draw. Make self portraits and realise you never knew you had a mole.

Some people try everything.

And the worst of all…



We use people as an escape..


And sometimes we don’t even regret it.

Now I want you to forget everything you just read.

Coz maybe all of this isn’t real at all.

And I just used you as an escape.

Sorry for that.

Mahaveer Verma

I am a tech minded blogger, engineering student, designer, hobbyist, pluviophile and a learner :) Stay connected to this blog to know more about me and my life experiments.

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