nessnote
Kanalga Telegram’da o‘tish
somewhere between brainrot and peak wisdom i post a lot about my current obsessions (which change way too often (lowkey a photo dump as well)
Ko'proq ko'rsatish527
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Ma'lumot yo'q7 kun
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Postlar arxiv
527
it’s 2pm in the afternoon, and i still haven’t moved from inside my blanket. there is, objectively, a lot i could be doing. subjectively, it’s cold, and the blanket offers a level of comfort that feels difficult to abandon. exams are over, which should mean freedom, but instead it has produced a strange inertia. scrolling through my phone has lost its appeal. apparently procrastination only feels thrilling when there is an exam looming and guilt adds momentum. i want to read physical books. i’ve been reading on my phone, but it doesn’t satisfy the same sensory need. the issue, as always, is money. i am exhausted by the constant awareness of money, by the calculations that precede every desire. i am tired of wanting things and then having to justify why i shouldn’t. to be very clear, i don’t have money, and i’m tired of that being a defining condition of my choices.
there’s a christmas carnival happening in the city right now. i want to go, but ofcourse no money so no fun. i also wanted to record something, to start an instagram account and post. but i stopped myself with a familiar phrase, "not yet". i think i need to work more. i don’t think my writing is where i want it to be. so that is a no-go at the moment too.
527
the print quality is super bad. gotta return these now. i was so excited for their arrival man. i thought i would read these in the semester break but i guess not.
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and on a random morning you get to know that he has a girlfriend. the random day happens to be an exam day. you will want to cry but you won't. you will blame yourself for falling so hard. you will try to accept it and move on.
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chugged a glass of chilled water with sore throat and runny nose. kal subah kuch post na karu toh samajh jana-
527
i fell asleep with the news still breathing in my ears, and the world followed me into the dream.
it was not night there, nor day. i stood on a plain made of ash and paper, old laws crumbling underfoot like dried leaves. above me rose a great invisible presence. it pressed upon the air itself. this, i knew without being told, was the government.
it was never meant to be this way. in the dream, a forgotten truth trembled like a half-remembered hymn that we were meant to be the sovereigns. power was once supposed to flow upward, like roots drawing strength from the soil. but somewhere, the current reversed. now it pours downward in a cold, merciless rain, and we stand beneath it, palms open, throats dry, asking for permission to breathe.
i walked, and the earth changed as dreams do. the hills appeared shaved down to stubble, their ribs exposed. they did not cry out. they were too old for that. they only watched me. dust rose from them and entered my lungs. with every breath, i tasted the metallic air. the sky wore a permanent bruise. even the birds had learned to fly low, as if ashamed of the heavens.
people moved around me like shadows. we did not look at one another. each of us carried an invisible tag saying "expendable". we were dying the way pests die, swept away in corners. and the great presence above us did not turn its head, for it had none.
i wanted to ask "why is it so difficult?" the question rose in me like a wave, but before it could break, it dissolved into silence. the dream taught me that questions do not travel upward. they sink.
as i woke, one thought clung to me, heavy as smog "maybe it will change. maybe it won’t. maybe we have come too far down this road, and turning back would require a courage we have forgotten how to practice." perhaps the tragedy is not that change is impossible. but that we keep choosing to sleep through the moment when we must wake.
