Sometimes, I wake up and feel blue for no reason. Not the kind of blue that comes with a storm or a bad day—no, this one lingers quietly, like an invisible weight. It sneaks up on me, and suddenly, everything that used to bring me joy feels distant and irrelevant. The things that once made me feel alive—hobbies, people, even the comfort of a familiar routine—just don’t matter. I’m trapped in this endless loop, where nothing excites me, and the only thing that feels comforting is staring into the void, for hours, for days.
It’s funny how comforting the void can be, right? But there’s something about doing nothing, staring at nothing, that feels like home. Sometimes, I escape to the roof at night, stare at the stars, and listen to those old 2000s Bollywood melodies. They remind me of simpler times, back to a time when life didn’t weigh me down, back to a time when I wasn’t “battling the interior ghosts.”… The music takes me far away from this world—into a place I created for myself, where I’m alone, where there’s no one to compete with, no one to judge me for not being enough.
That’s what it feels like most days—like I’m not enough. No matter how hard I try, I’m always stuck in this never-ending loop of feeling inadequate, like I’ll never be able to break through. It’s like walking in circles, trying to catch up to a version of myself that’s always just so out of reach. And the longer you are trapped in that loop, the more you feel like a failure. You lose the energy to brainstorm, to create, to even care. Then that feeling spreads—it seeps into your bones, numbing everything. It’s like my brain has shut down, my senses dulled. It’s hard to even feel alive, and I’m spiralling deeper and deeper into a black hole of numbness.
I’m trapped in this cold, isolating shade of blue that I can’t explain or escape. I don’t even know what’s happening to me anymore. It’s this gnawing sadness that keeps clawing at me, but I can’t cry, I can’t scream—I’m just… numb. And it scares me because I don’t know how to comprehend what I’m feeling. Or maybe that’s the problem: I’m not feeling anything at all.
I wish I could feel something, anything. But instead, I’m left staring into the void, hoping for some kind of release, but knowing deep down that none will come.
I know when people try to reach out, when they cling to me, hoping for some kind of connection, I pull away. I put on that mask like I don’t care like their presence is just a nuisance. It’s not that I don’t want them to care, but the more they stay, the harder it is to hide how broken I am from inside. So I push them away. I act indifferent, even angry at times, hoping they’ll leave me alone—because maybe, in the end, that’s what I’m destined for… solitude. I know it’s annoying at times, the way I pull away, the way I shut down. And I’m sorry—sorry that my existence is so frustrating.
I know they’re just trying to help, but I’m sorry that I don’t have it in myself to go with grace. I don’t know how to stay or how to face it all with dignity. Therefore, I crumble, I withdraw, I disappear behind this mask, pretending to be okay. Maybe I do it to protect myself, or maybe to protect them from seeing how broken I am inside.
But forgive me if that’s not enough. Sorry if being around me feels like a burden, sorry that I can’t seem to be the person they need me to be. I wish I could be more—more present, more open, more capable of handling everything. Because honestly I also don’t know—how did I go from growing up to breaking down?
And I don’t blame them because even with music, even with my favourite melodies under the night sky, there’s no escaping the loop. I still feel like I’m walking in circles, always falling short, always behind. And this feeling—this disgusting, gut-wrenching sense of inadequacy— never truly leaves me. I’ve been on my knees, wishing for change, but the prophecy always remains. It just stays there, gnawing at me, reminding me that I’ll never be able to break free.
And it scares me because I don’t know how to comprehend what I’m feeling. Or maybe that’s the problem: I’m not feeling anything at all.
So I stay quiet — trapped under that blue shroud, where numbness has become my constant companion. It’s as if my sensory organs have shut down, as if my brain has stopped processing emotions altogether. I wish I could cry. I wish I could feel something, anything. But instead, I’m left staring into the void, hoping for some kind of release, but knowing deep down that none will come.
And maybe that’s okay—because in this void, in this numbness, I can finally be alone. Just me, the night sky, and the echoes of melodies that make me feel, even if just for a moment, that I belong somewhere, even if it’s far from here. As you are on your own kid, you always have been!!
For more such heartfelt pieces, check out Her Campus at MUJ.
And if you’d like to explore more of my world, visit my corner at HCMUJ—Drishti Madaan!