“What is an Idea?” they asked.
“It’s a headache that won’t leave you until you’ve invested in it,” I said.
My name is Chas and Chas is my name.
Being a writer is scary, especially when you are 14 years old, haven’t taken the time to hone your vocabulary skills and are wondering if your existence makes a difference. But that’s no excuse.
Also, I hate clowns.
Hiiiiiiiiiii whoever is reading this.
A massive thank you for supporting me 🙂
Today, I wanted to talk about me leaving the blog. I have many reasons, I’ll illustrate the relevant ones.
Um, so how do I start? I have been reflecting upon everything, and I think this blog no longer aligns with me and the changed person I’ve become (which was inevitable)
I could start over here but I choose not to. I hope this doesn’t dishearten you. I will, however, be continuing my poetry blog and I’m thinking to start a website/blog focused only upon Physics and the occasional Philosophy. I haven’t started it yet but I will be updating here when I do. If you’re interested, do check it out 🙂
Lastly, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for supporting me in my journey to find some aspect of myself. Be well, do good and I love you, I’m so proud of you, YOU ARE VALID.
Signing off,
Chas xx
Hi. How’s everyone. I’m back after the endless silence.
I won’t make any promises that I’m back for good. Because, really, I don’t know 🙂
After days of dried up ink flowing through my veins, I conjured up something. And my favourite band (Chase Atlantic) helped me out. They know the dark side of me better than I know it (And I really embrace my dark side), so that’s something. So, here’s the something, I’m talking about:
I can handle the world. I really can.
What I can’t handle is myself and every extremity of mine.
I can’t handle the fact that nothing scares me. The fact that I’ve accepted that love is really not for me. I can’t handle the fact that I love so deeply. The fact that I can’t conform. The fact that I can’t do what I’m told to do. The fact that I glorify revolution because rebellion is the storm that rages in me. The fact that I don’t belong. The fact that I accept but never move on. I can’t handle the fact that…I’m human.
I think that’s what I want in life. Something or someone that can handle me. The whole of me. No filters. So, I don’t have to edit my soul.
Just me at my highest. Because that is when I’m at my lowest.
That is all I want out of life. And the universe will give it to me, life will give me something that can handle me. Just not how I want it.
I’ll get doses, fleeting moments.
Drugs that I won’t be able to overdose on like I want to.
I’ll be living in the sky but then it’ll all turn to black. Because all in one moment, I’ll be going to heaven and returning back.
And that realisation is the story of when I’m feeling low.
See y’all when I can. Really missed this, writing in the spur of the moment 🙂
Hiya sweeties! I’ve been very busy, schoolwork, schoolwork and more schoolwork. (Read: SOMEBODY HELP! SOS)
Anyways, it took me forever to write this post, partly because I was so invested in reading this book called “Deep Work” by Cal Newport. I highly recommend it even though, I’m not done with it yet.
Today, I’d like to talk about something very dear to me: words. Since I can remember, I’ve always had this fascination with words. Words, words, words. They were my chemicals in a science lab. I could play around with them, not take myself seriously, take myself seriously, experiment with what works for me and what doesn’t and just generally hone the craft of writing.
Around last year, I finally got the courage to call myself an artist. A writer, a poet. It was a terrifying process, labelling myself. When you’re a writer, you see, you wish with every atom of your being to be called a writer and yet, you don’t actually call yourself one. Why? Because you’re not sure if your writing is even counted as valid or worthy enough for you to be called a writer. Fortunately, I got through that alive.
But today, suddenly a thought struck me: I call myself a writer but am I really living up to it?
I had become a hack who never wrote but fell in love with word : “WRITER.” I realized that writing only when I want to scribble all over the notebook is not ever going to make my writing take off where I really want it to go.
I really believed I was doing something. But I’m not. Writing, right now, is something that I play with over the weekend. I don’t want that.
Writing is one of the things that calls to me. I wanna write and write and write until I’m drowning in my words, submerged in them to the complete point of no return.
After the realisation that I wasn’t really accomplishing anything, I had this ache to write. It didn’t even had to be a good piece. I just had to write. So I did. I painted out 500 words of a scene that I had in my head. And, I thought, this is what I want to do. I want this. Everyday, I want this. Just one hour of uninterrupted writing while Jazz plays in the background.
After this connection with my emotions, I felt like this is something that needs to be shared. I found a profound connection when other people my age were still struggling to explore the world.
As a young writer, I take it as my duty to be as honest and as prolific as possible. I hope that I can finally live up to the name I’ve given myself, a writer.
Hello, lovely people of the internet.
I’m clueless. So, I’ll just write about…. “the horrifying ordeal of being known.”
I am opposed to this statement with every fibre of my being. Do you ever feel invisible? So positively unknown that you just want to collapse into yourself? Do you ever feel absolutely unseen and it startles you?
I don’t really know if anybody else feels it but I know I do. I feel like there is a version of me that I feel inside me and I believe to be “me” but it feels like nobody sees that version of me. And it feels like they’re interacting not with me but with a projection of their experience of me.
I believe people to be dimensional and multi-dimensional. Even those people, who speak their mind or wear their heart on their sleeve, have layers.
I feel like the innermost layer of me feels a lot and thinks a lot, craves love and attention, hopes that the idea of soulmates are possible, is a hopeless hopeless romantic, simultaneously looks at the world as an idealist and a cynic. But, I don’t really show that side to anyone. I feel like that part of me which is vulnerable is a soft, soft, soft side of me and I don’t want it to harden. And thus, I don’t show it. And thus, people don’t interact with the true, undiluted version of me. Ultimately, it’s my fault that people don’t interact with that part of me. Which is frustrating. Because I want people to know about the true me but I also don’t want that part of me to be diluted by the world.
Does that mean that I’m faking? To be completely honest, I don’t think I fake being me. I feel like I show my logical side all the time and emotional side rarely and thus, people think I’m a robot and I can’t feel.
So, according to me, I show a filtered version of the real “me”. Do you people go through the same? I’m truly curious. Tell me in the comments.
Whom am I reserving this special side for? I have no idea.
Happy pride month, y’all!
If I had a favourite festival, it would probably be pride month (though, I’m not sure whether it is counted as a festival…) It just makes me so happy that we have a WHOLE month dedicated to love of all kinds. Pride month is wayyyyyy better than Valentines day or something (please don’t kill me). On valentine’s day, you have a particular way to express your love. But pride month allows the celebration of love in any way, regardless of your gender.
Love isn’t restricted to certain people. It’s a privilege for everybody. And nobody can actually take it from you. At the end of the day, no matter what, we all crave love. That’s the ultimate goal. You can lie to yourself and tell that it’s not but deep down, no matter how hurt you are/have been, you’ll always crave love.
I tend to have (particularly weird) tendencies. One of them is being obsessed with queer rights. I identify as a straight person and yet when I turn on my rainbow activist, I’m labelled as gay. AS THOUGH IT’S A BAD THING. It annoys me so damn much. ALL HOMOPHOBIC PEOPLE UNFOLLOW ME RIGHT NOW. Sorry, I just got a bit carried away.
I don’t like (HATE) the whole perspective of love being denied, forbidden or unacceptable.
Anyways, my point is that LOVE IS LOVE. Love is diverse. It can be fixed or fluid. Restricting it is only going to reduce the liberality to be honest and true to yourself and others.
I love lbtq+ love soooo much that I’ve written a poem on it. You can read it here: https://abookofmusic.wordpress.com/2020/05/19/society-has-bigger-problems-than-guys-who-kiss-guys-and-girls-who-kiss-girls/
The whole point of this post is that society has made a standard way of love. It displays love in a particular way. (And unfortunately, sometimes, I fall for it too.) If there was no portrayal of love in mainstream media, I’m 99.68% convinced that each of us would have a unique way to express love. Love wouldn’t have a gender. We wouldn’t be judgmental about it. Rather, we would all be poets and writers, writing about love all the time.
I’m just saying, why can’t we just accept our primal nature?
Here’s a song:
OMG rainbow love i can’t even!!!!! cries in gay and obsesses over love ok bye
“Why judge gender when you can judge personality?”
I have a vast number of reasons why I haven’t written since May 1st but I’ll spare you all of them.
And I’ve decided upon a routine so, you’ll be hearing a lot more from me. You can expect 4 posts every month.
I honestly don’t know what i’m doing with my life right now.
Note: If you’re studying despite this pandemic, I’m very very very proud of you. And if you’re not, I’m still very very very proud of you.
Yeah, let’s continue, shall we? The only constant things in my life are music, sleep, food, some more music, reading, hating myself for not being productive, wasting my time and impostor syndrome. Oh and overthinking. I’m telling you as much as I love the indoors, this pandemic is so NOT helping my overthinking. It’s becoming worse. And on top of that for some reason I feel like, there’ll be no nature left after this pandemic and all day, every day, I just wanna cry about something that’s not true. HELP.
It feels like the end of the world which would be fine with me but I’ve only visited 1 other country and I haven’t taken enough pictures, made enough documentaries, written enough blog posts, etc. I haven’t immersed myself in art like my heart desires.
And my professional worrying brain, cannot find the energy to invest in school work. (Please note that studying and learning are different things. I hate studying, I love learning.)
I get it. Productivity and using time for doing something useful. But, I feel like all this “productivity” is on a very superficial level. And these days, I’m dreaming of running away to a forest with only bare necessities and living there, amidst nature. (I blame the movie: Into The Wild. WATCH IT. IT”S BEAUTIFUL)
So, there’s my life in the most simplest terms I could find. I hope you’ll excuse me while I walk away into ALASKA in my mind. I think I need help.
(Don’t worry, I don’t need actual help but maybe I do? I don’t know. Tell me in the comments if you think my dreams and my lifestyle needs help.)
Please excuse all the Helps.
To some people, it will sound stupid and that’s alright. But under no circumstances are you allowed to think that this is even the tiniest bit funny.
So, let’s start with the story.
We had a box full of CDs and DVDs and electronic components and etc. So, I opened it in hopes of finding an external webcam. I didn’t find the webcam but I found something better: Cassettes! And a cassette player with it! (They were my dad’s.)
It was love at first sight.
The player didn’t have any batteries and I resolved to get them. But I had to put that resolve on hold until the next day because no shops were open.
The batteries were keeping us apart.
The next day, when I did get the batteries, my beautiful cassette player betrayed me and didn’t work. I, literally, cried (and before you tell me, no, it’s not wrong usage of literally). All my hopes of the cassette player were dashed. I looked so desolate that my mom left me alone for the rest of the day and the work she would normally assign to me was assigned to my sister. Which didn’t lift my spirits, if you were wondering (which you were not.) My dad told me that we would get it fixed after the pandemic stabilizes.
With our modern age of internet, I searched up how to fix cassette players. I learnt a lot about Cassette players and their workings and cassettes. But since I’m a beginner, I didn’t dare try to fix the player.
No matter how much betrayal you face, you still wouldn’t want to hurt your beloved.
So, moral of the story, never ever ever fall in love with cassette players, they always betray you.
I can’t take it. I just can’t take it anymore.
Physics, the one subject I love. Today, in the online class, we were taught kinematic derivations and their applications and I got it but I didn’t at the same time. ‘Cause I understood it but if I was asked to teach it to someone, I couldn’t. And I know, I have the internet, my biggest resource. But I’m just so tired of trying to learn things on my own.
I ask questions, my teachers tell me that it’s not necessary to know this stuff in my age, I ask for more examples, they tell me to stick to the examples given to me. I’m just so tired of working so hard for marks. And when I get 100%, I’m not happy.
I’m tired of learning being limited and restricted to only the pages of my textbook. But I’m also tired of trying so hard to not let my mind get limited.
I cry while I write this because I’m going to school, to this special section for intelligent students called I section. And I don’t feel intelligent. Everybody in my class goes to this extra coaching class called FIITJEE. Every single body except me. And in 9th grade, they learn about 10th grade stuff. Everybody knows more than me because of FIITJEE, they like to study in their free time and I don’t. Deep down, I just want to feel intelligent and I’m not. I’m such a fraud and I feel pathetic for crying. And I want to study in my free time but I can’t because I don’t like it and the same time I preach a lot about learning. I’m just so tired of exploring, breaking boundaries but staying in boundaries just feels wrong.
And I’m trying, very much but it’s not enough. And I know that intelligence can’t be quantified but I can’t help but quantify my intelligence against others.
I wanna stand out but I’m tired of being the different person, the other student.
I’m tired of nobody getting me while I’m proud that I’m so original that no one gets me.
I wanna be productive but I’m not. And I’m tired of feeling unproductive.
I restrain my thinking, I follow the trend, and I don’t feel like myself. I think too much, try to be different, I get tired.
And call it a paradox or whatever but I just can’t anymore. I just can’t.
If overthinking was a sport, I would win every single time. Or so my friends tell me.
I’m famous for being unable to multitask. For example, I absolutely cannot talk and write at the same time. But, my friends/peers can. That’s the thing. They can multitask physically. I can multitask mentally. Don’t know what I’m talking about?
Okay, so basically, all overthinkers think simultaneously. It’s hard to describe. Like, right now, I’m overthinking about overthinkers and how I’m one of them, while also overthinking about school and academia, while also overthinking about supernatural, while also overthinking about poetry ideas, while also overthinking about the lock-down, while over thinking about one direction, etc. You get the drill. With overthinkers, you can’t just overthink one thing at a time, you have to overthink about multiple things at the same time.
And that’s why overthinkers worry a lot. Give me anything, any situation, I can worry to the point it gets ridiculous. Every word someone says, overthinkers can analyze them to the point it wouldn’t make sense to a normal person.
For instance, I keep thinking about this one phrase my English teacher said, “Think correctly.” It bugs me so much, ’cause English is a language of interpretation, no matter how literal or ridiculous, and there is no “correct” way of thinking. Ethical, yes. Correct, no. And I can bet you, my classmates probably don’t even remember that my English teacher even said something like that.
I asked my friends, “when you think of me, what’s the first thing that comes to your brain?”
And one of them said and I quote, “You are a worrier. You may not like to or maybe you do, I don’t know but you worry. About the most trivial to the most signigicant of things.”
Another one of them said, “You are an overthinker. You think a lot, analyze every single thing. Also when people say that they get the other side/story of the situation, they don’t. But you do. And you understand people. And people don’t realize it but you do understand them. ” To this, I asked her, “Then, how come no one particularly likes me?” She said, “You understand them, the truth about them. Some people don’t want to hear it. Also, understanding people doesn’t mean that you connect with them. They might not like the fact that you understand them.”
Dear normal people who don’t understand overthinkers,
we never realize that we’re overthinkers. Until…we do. And then, we overthink the fact that we’re overthinkers. (People who claim to be overthinkers usually aren’t. ‘Cause ovethinking is not as cool as some like to think.)
We’ve been told we worry a lot, we over analyze the tiniest of things, etc.
If we meet a new person, we analyze their clothes, their most evident quality, their behavior and body language, while thinking of what to say, how to stand, some good jokes, while thinking of statistical probability, physics, poetry, the universe, while thinking of that one embarrassing moment that happened years ago, while obsessing over music and aesthetics, while having philosophical revelations, while thinking of what to wear. (Disclaimer: THIS IS JUST AN EXAMPLE.)
Yep. That’s the life.
People think it’s something we can stop. As if, it’s not a part of us, just like our eyes or our nose. People think that we just have to stop thinking. If it were as simple as that, overthinkers would not exist. Sure, we can choose what to think, but we can’t choose how much we think.
Overthinking is something we can’t help. The tiniest of words, the tiniest of intentions have to be analyzed or we won’t find peace. And people don’t realize how something they did unintentionally eats away at us. Some times, we’re honestly surprised that our heads don’t burst from the overload of thoughts.
There are things that we’re over emotionally and yet we still overthink them. There are also things we’re not over emotionally and we overthink them too. Ovethinking is not a choice.
But one thing, you can count on is that usually, when we make a statement, we have (USUALLY) thought out all sides of a scenario, even the most unlikely opinions and then shared our take on it. It’s not called being argumentative (as many teachers like to call us). It’s not called arguing for the sake of it. We like to think of it as a clash of ideas, playing around with them, finding new theories. And yes, it might get annoying, but that’s our playtime, so please bear with us.. (To be honest, school is playtime for us. True learning is done from life.)
Regards,
the overthinkers
The price you pay for being born an overthinker is being devoid of the power to truly let go. Because, what you think of, you haven’t let go of, not really.
(A brain to heart talk)
I am a person who feels too deeply and yet try to follow my brain. Most of the time, I think, I succeed.
I have been described as cold, unfeeling as well as overdramatic, attention-seeking. Two, competely contradicting terms.
I’ve made it clear in my previous posts that I’m a huge lover of art. But what I’ve not made clear is my love for physics.
I have no idea exactly how this works, but when I’m, say, writing poetry, it’s like, I turn off the rational part of me and the artistic and feeling side of me comes out. And when I’m researching physics, or, just solving problems for the sake of it, I sorta turn off the aesthetic side of me and just operate on my analytical side. It comes to me naturally and I’ve never given it much thought.
When this happens, it feels like I’m two different personalities. Contradicting each other. And yet existing. And the worst/best part is that no side of me is dominant. I’m just very confused about myself. I’m pretty sure it’s not multiple personality disorder (I hope).
So, in general life, when I’m with my peers, I’m an overthinking, quiet, awkward, clumsy, private, introverted person. That’s cool. Until I went to this competition, there were these people who thought independently, made intellectual conversations, and just got me. Then, a completely different side to me showcased itself (this only happens when I talk to adults who know that I’m more than capable of making philosophical, political, intellectually stimulating conversation, like my dad, for example). I was called extroverted, confident, and very sharp in that competition. Those were my kind of people, I felt. And I didn’t have to fake or make any effort to continue the conversation.
I feel like I don’t really relate to people of my age group (this is applicable only to the people I interact with on a daily basis).
I just feel weird, I guess, realizing that I’ve been changing personalities, without even knowing that I was. My love for art and my love for physics, the irrational and rational side to me, they’re conflicting, dual, and yet, they exist. I don’t care if I’ll go crazy but I want both of my sides to thrive.
The point of this post? Honestly, I don’t know.
Figuring It Out... 
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