Flesh

I think I am going to have a breakdown. I am going to either internally diminish in a way that only the flesh remains, or have both my soul and flesh destroyed at the same time. Either way, it spells doom for me.

I have been living on hope for so long that its starting to suffocate my very existence. And I have reached a point where total suffocation has made me realize that I never had any  hope to begin with. It was just wishful thinking on my part that saw the great blooming poison as a way out, and seek it.

Ironic, isn't it. I was advancing towards death with every breath I took. Making me realize that its  not death that calls us, but us. Only some, like me, idiot as they are, run towards it. I like to believe I do it cause I am a coward in thoughts and character. I have no moral standings. I am just a body with a name.



And now all sense is seeping throw my hands like water does. I can not contain the disgust, the filth. It lives and reeks under my nose and in my lungs and I don't know what anything else smells like anymore. It's all the same.

I can't cry either. Not truly. I  may shed tears for hours, but simply shedding tears is not what crying is. My insides scream, but they are too caged by that disgusting smell to be heard. I am growing weak, weaker and tired. My mind has exhausted. The nerves slithering on my brain wilting yet strengthening their dry, piercing grip around my brain as they create pain...

Oh! It pains so bad yet I feel nothing.  I yearn for meaningful pain, now. I truly do.

I beg YOU and you and you to give me my senses back. So I smell again, and feel again. 

The pain is real.


Gone Insane

Someday my ideas will drive me crazy!

I'll be the lunatic who'll become a laughing stock for young and old to mock; for them to point and shove my overachieved sanity for insanity. No sir! I am not wise by a million light years; I am just dumb enough to accept that entire wisdom cannot be achieved by a mere mortal - especially by the likes of me. The paradoxical entireties of our lives have been ever so magnificently (as an adjective only reserved for Him) placed to keep men grounded. As man half flies with intellect and comes back down… trashing down, realizing that all knowledge leads to one entity and His alone, and to one reality: of nothingness and his alone.

Man! Man! Man! You absurd little creature.

You learn to observe, discover and learn, yet with each step in that direction, self stitch your lips into the deep abyss of realization. A realization too profound for not only mine but for any writer, who dares me, to write... to express. I wonder if this is how maniacs are born. If this is how, in the roots of burdensome, roaring liberation, servants of God are born. The silent, the poets, the detached of the society are born.




Finally

Finally, I feel awesome!

I know using the word awesome, being so overused and cliché and so… ‘normal’ somehow cuts down on my seemingly legitimate value. But what the hell, why does normalcy, or especially not being among the ones whose prime purpose is to run and run away from gelling in, and reaching where they are recognized as ‘unique’, such a bad thing?

To be honest, I am tattered. I feel shit. I am making mistakes, more as of late, and am pretty clueless in my otherwise personally self organized life. And ironically, I am just fine.

There is no magic to it. I’ve just learned to accept the many faces of life. I’ve learned to not know the outcomes, as life is as unpredictable as it gets. Still hold onto  being the one who tries, because life being unpredictable isn’t an excuse to lurk around and do nothing, but more of a challenge to get off our butts and try harder. 

It’s just perspective I guess.

I am also trying to realize that there are billions of people out there, all product of some beautiful random combination, who share the same one or more or countless attributes and troubles with me. I am not unique, and I am okay with that. Cause I am from this gorgeous planet, with people I can share, atleast in my universal mind, the idea of being a part of it. And with that comes the idea of peace and faith. People are alike, and they get over things. And so shall I.

I mean honestly, doesn’t the modern idea of uniqueness have a ring of isolation attached to it? And who here wants isolation as a destination? As a mere pit-stop it suffices, but as a destination, it sounds haunting and hollow. Nothing impressive to me.

I am sorry, I wish I could give a speech about how awesomeness springs from being unique. But in my little experience, (packaged with the notion of accepting well constructed counter arguments) I come to the conclusion that compassion, empathy and being humble unites us. In that, we’re one. And it is from that one we are truly satisfied. Even when we feel like we’re twenty feet covered in shit.

 Oh and Happy New Year everyone! :)