The Black Diary is a symbolic segment that is created to tell the secret story of your struggle. This segment is for those brave-hearts fighting their silent battles every day & night. Let the world know your battle because you’re not alone. Few in this world of billions are ready to reach out to help you, or you can just finally let out those negative vibes out.



I lay wide awake on my bed while looking at the rotating blades of the ceiling fan above me. The blades are rotating at a slower pace due to a low electric voltage and thus I could trace the path of one of the blades of the fan as it rushes behind the other as if to catch it only to remain stuck at the same distance away from it. The three blades won’t be able to meet one another ever but will always end up running behind the other.

Staring towards it, I realize the similarity between the blades of the ceiling fan and my life. I run behind many things and whenever I stop to check on how much I have achieved, I find myself back to square one. Thus, every day I start from the same place with an increased effort and then by the end of the day when I lay on my bed awake on one of the days like today, I feel so empty inwards.

Does my existence mean anything?
What is my role in this entire universe?
Am I just here to trace the conventional route like the other sheep and die one day?

These are just the initial questions that summons the tsunami of confusion within me. I have no answers to these questions. I really wish I knew the reply to at least of them but unfortunately, I don’t.  Since childhood, I was taught to be the best in the things I do and now being the best in my lot, why don’t I feel content? Why there is still a seeker within me that wishes to run for more? Why having the best possible secured life scare me? Why this mundane yet opulent destiny seems distasteful? Sometimes, I wish to share these questions with someone else and to get a peek in their hearts. Maybe they also face these questions or maybe they don’t. I did try to ask these questions with my peers, only to be mocked for being so depressing and introspective.  They either felt these questions were unimportant to be even thought of or considered me as a guy who finds negativity in everything. But, then does questioning the purpose of our life is a depressing and a wrong thing or the most important among every other thing. So, I have stopped asking these questions to anyone anymore but for me. I can’t switch them off within me.

I have so many contacts on my phone…more than a thousand friends on facebook…more than five hundred contacts on whatsapp…around four thousand followers on Instagram, but still, I feel lonely around me. Why don’t I feel like calling anyone from so many friends from these social networks…maybe these social networks are making us more unsocial. Even though we can see more than fifty percent of our contacts, online we hardly ping anyone. I certainly keep scrolling the chat list only to reach the end of it, followed by closing the app. LONELY…is the word. I feel lonely even after having everything or everyone around me.

It is not that I don’t party with my friends. I go out for drinks or dinner almost every weekend with friends and colleagues. Though I spend hours with them, I feel isolated in the crowd…dejected by the social status…and empty by the fakeness around me. I want someone to listen or maybe I want myself to listen to what I feel. I remain so lost in the loudness and screams of the rush for the betterment of my life, that I never pause to understand what actually will make my life better. Do I need the things behind which I run every day or do I need to stop and rethink? I know there is an invisible prison around me. I know that its gates are wide open. And I also know that I cant dare to take a step out of it. Why getting out is so difficult when you know you are not locked in that cage? Why does that prison feel safe than what lies outside? Why breath of fresh air seems scary than the stale air of monotonicity? Maybe I will only know if I take that risk of stepping out…

I need originality. I need dreams. I need failures. I need hopes. I need light. I need freedom. Until then I will remain lost in my dungeons.

This is the story of a wailing passionate heart who would drift into slumber with a soul laden with these unending unanswered questions and wake up the next day to join the other sheep…

I look towards the ceiling fan with its blades running behind the other and think will this run ever stop or pause for once?


Read other entries from different people’s lives. Click Below

The Black Diary #1

The Black Diary #3

The Black Diary #5


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