The Bitter Bile

Anger: it corrupts the mind. The mind stops thinking. A darkness grows, slowly spreading in the small confines of the heart. It will hear nothing. It will feel nothing but spite and hatred. These feelings dominate and take over everything, leaving no room to even reach out and try to kill them.

The anger just rises. Getting bitter by the day. No explanation. Just raw bitter bile.

The intimacy of the relationship doesn’t matter. The bitterness was harbouring and festing in the body for so long, that the soul refused to acknowledge anything else. There is no stopping. It grows, the bitterness, till the mind loses sense of anything good. The body will find itself standing, filled with black bitter bile. Unforgiving. Not thinking. Not anymore.

Until one day, the mind cracks. The bile spills out. The soul will rationalize the outburst by saying it needs to cleanse, express and emote. The tongue will wag. Fingers will point. There will be explosion. Maybe minor enough to cause a small burn. Or big enough to kill.

Then comes the calm after the storm.

The whole being, shaking, will question the root of the cause. It will question is it worth going that far in the past. Maybe it matters. Maybe it will heal. Maybe it doesn’t matter. May it will do nothing at all.

Until one day, the right question will be asked, “How do I stop the rise of this bile. How do I put an end to this all?”

And finally plead, “Just make it stop. Please.”


Bright Red Flaring Nose Alert

Struggling to find a healthy channel to tunnel all the unbearable rage spitting out of my clenched jaws. Over all those unanswered messages, the failed tests, the audacity of my own hormones for compelling my own body to disobey me.. Also such unbearable intolerance to humanity’s stupidness at times. It is overwhelming.

This rage heightens my obsession with all the suppressed obsession. Especially my insatiable obsession with the truth. The unbearable desire to break it to people without giving a damn to their feelings, because I feel liberated and assume that they would too, eventually. But not all are evolved. Some like to dwell in their own chimera.

Such coldness cannot exist in my bones for the sake of humanity. But this temptation is too hard to resist. Pure unadulterated truth just spills out unfiltered at my unprepared company’s ears, shaking their core and my sense of existence. I must say, it sounds very beautiful when it escapes my lips with such ease that it seems to simplify things and present them to my naked soul as is. I am sure my company wouldn’t appreciate it the way I do. But at that moment, I effing don’t care. I am comfortable in my skin and pure. At that moment, I do not want to understand the complexity of human need of reassurance. Because, at that moment I’m stripped off all the false hopes and reassurance with the naked truth simply confronting me pointedly in my face. I see no need to deny people of that either, whether they want it or not.

I do agree, many including me at times need the fake assurance to keep the hope alive and keep feeling alright. But at what expense? Isn’t it better to accept what is as is and hunt for the next best thing? We are anyways dying slowly everyday so why dwell? That makes me cold and heartless, so be it.

This is what people would call as the “demon” in me. It will be called a demon by them because usually the misunderstood/difficult  side would be easy to tag as “the evil”. What is evil anyways? Isn’t ignorance and oblivion evil that way? Wouldn’t it be contradicting on humanity’s part to call the truth as evil? Don’t many people demand for truth at times?

Truth. At times a welcome blow that knocks the wind out of my lungs, making me more alive than ever, even when I will be gasping for my breath. An epitome of liberation. An epitome of true form of a person, mask-less, unfiltered and pure. It brings destruction, but with the peace it has to offer. Nothing else matters.

But, once the moment of crazed obsessive passion ceases, my eyes sees the destruction my uncontrolled tongue has left behind. Breaking some people and pushing them deeper in their own oblivion. But does it really matter? Isn’t truth more satisfying? Once they open their eyes and embrace the truth won’t it be more liberating? I sound heartless. Maybe I am.

But, I understand there are norms of society I must follow. I must lie in order to let the faith in humanity not cease. I must be conscious and not let anyone break because of my actions. Even in the course of me being heartless, I must understand my obsession isn’t theirs. Truth doesn’t matter to all, but yet it is demanded with such elan.

Such irony. Such a paradox. Such a waste.

If only I could tame my obsession with truth and actually want to tame it along with my imprudence and my tongue lash. Till then, oh what the hell, I may as well enjoy it. At whatever cost may be.

A Misfit’s Rant

The society, rather we have this inherent desire in us to fix everything that seems broken to our eyes, or on the verge of breaking. Be it a person’s personality or the person’s orientation of nature/character or sexuality.

This is where we misunderstand.

Not everything needs fixing. 

At times we need to see that a person is fine just the way the person is, unless the person himself feels the need to alter something. I am but obviously only considering the basic core, essence of a person.

A person’s nature, or what makes a person is not a sign of weakness that needs to be fixed.

When a person asks for help, but only when necessary does not mean that the person is arrogant or too weak minded to ask for help. There is another way to see it: the person enjoys his independence and the feeling of being able to do things by himself. Why would you want to fix that?

When a person chooses silence and solitude over meaningless late night conversation does  not mean that the person is moody, depressed or shunning the society. There is another way to see it: the person enjoys whatever little time and space he gets after a long day, and that probably this is his way of recharging his batteries. Why would you want to fix that?

When a person is quiet and refuses to share every tiny details of his day or his problems does not mean that the person is egoistic. There is another way to see it: the person is a private person and enjoys his privacy very much. Why would you want to fix that?

When a person is straightforward and speaks his mind does not mean that the person is judgmental.There is another way to see it: the person is choosing to be honest with you and sharing himself with you. Would you rather have the person lie to you? Why would you want to fix that?

A person’s choice of religion, methods to deal with stuff his way, his ideas, his core, his sexuality, his obsessions, his everything is what makes a person.

Why would you want to fix anything in a person when there probably is nothing to fix? Why would you want to alter your friend’s nature?

Like Ayn Rand wrote, “When you force a man to act against his own choice and judgment, it’s his thinking that you want him to suspend.” – John Galt

Just let the person, rather, your friend be.

Either accept the way your friend is, or you are welcome to simply walk away.

My Blind Rage

There is always the other side to everything. This the rage does not see. Rage is so blinding that it leaves all reasoning and sympathy behind. There is no right or wrong, there is just white blinding rage.
There are zingers that you never knew were capable of shooting. It leaves you so selfish that you are devoid of whatever  empathy is left in your bones. There is no right or wrong, there is just white blinding rage.
Nothing is fair. Nothing seems fair. Everyone is on the other side, against you. And the ones next to you, there is blind expectation of them taking whatever your rage throws at them and not utter a word. Listen to all the insults and yet come see you with a smile on their face the next day. That seems fair. There is no right or wrong, there is just white blinding rage.
After some time, the rage reaches a point where it just about had enough of people being so densely unsympathetic that it makes you want to shut yourself down in a room and let all the poison flow down your eyes. There is no right or wrong even then, there is just white blinding rage.
Eventually, the monster settles down. The silent human, that is you steps out. And you look around the debris of destruction the monstrous selfish unsympathetic you that has left behind. There is silence, but the deal was done.
There is pain and remorse boiling inside my conscience. There was the right that I ignored. It was easy to blame it on you and make you the stranger on the other side. It was my blinding white rage of destruction dealing with the end of your mortal existence.

My Graine

Many different personalities, combined together makes one person. And each personality; probably is a symbol of every emotion. The personality becomes an alter, when she goes beyond her emotion. If you suppress her, trying to control everything, eventually, gradually things start spinning out of control. If you do not take care of her, you will be punished with a lifelong pain.

Such a mess it is: both wanting to control and letting go of control.

Life-long commitment with you now.

My Faith in Humanity

All this in a day:
There was this moment when they had sadistic pleasure in watching someone’s downfall, and then was another moment when they genuinely cared for the well being of another human.

But I see more and more of sadism. I see more and more of emptiness.

The balance is not right.

My Rendezvous with iGrow

Just when I was about to conclude with a full stop and declare boredom with this life, I met the creator of iGrow. Listening to the story of her life, made me see the vastness of this life I still have to explore. The arrogance of “I have seen it all” was almost beginning to grow on me because I was not experiencing anything new. Seeing beyond my life and the monotone of every ordinary life, I saw a new infinite.

My Bad

Doing things when sane, when high, when stoned, being what I am in that moment, too spontaneous, making you so uncomfortable with my tongue, that I’m considered too bold for your taste. You love me. You would love to hate me. 

I already said something. Again.


Psst: Don’t you wish, you could be like that?
Be yourself that is, with unadulterated truth.

My Pseudo Adrenaline Pump

I have come to believe that there is no such thing as hate. But there is rage, pure rage. That is the monster in us that everyone keeps talking about. What the monster wants to do is as they say, “The urge to hurt someone real bad”. It is not the urge to hurt, it is the urge to speak out the ultimate unadulterated truth. It just slips out. There is no control over our mind and hence the tongue.

It is like one large shot of adrenaline. It pumps in some weird kind of energy. This feeling is beyond anger. There is infinite energy to climb a thousand stairs and pure lust to be nothing but practical. Pure lust to punish people by being blindly practical by discarding their whims of superiority in silence. Emasculating people subtly off their ego and pride.

It feels good. Right then, it is uncontrollably out of control. Vision is sharp. I feel like I’m hunting and idiocy is my prey. It is enjoyed while the shot lasts. Eventually, remorse follows.

What do you see?

You claim to know me. What do you really see? An image that I project at you? Or an image you project of me at me? All my actions are defined by reasons you say. Now, that is a news to me. Am I getting to know myself by standing out of my own persona, listening to your claims?

In the absence of tone, a silent cry of help embedded in casual words. What did you see? Because, there was another silent retreat.

Fresh smell of laundry. Reminds me of spring, every time. 🙂

Everyone is just like everyone else.

Clair de Lune, is beautiful.
Thank you Debussy.

Those scientists should discover a device that will pen down any thought at our minds will as soon as the thought frequency is thrown out in this space. A device, which will finally catch up with the speed of thought. These fingers seem to miss out and lose many thoughts into an infinite void.

Void. Reminds me of black hole. A super-massive black hole.
Galaxy is beautiful. I should visit a planetarium again, soon.