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This Messed Up Mind Of Mine

The road to self-destructopia: PART II

I traverse a barren wordscape of my own creation. Faceless wraiths call out in sweet serenading crescendos urging me to walk off the cliff sides. I’ve been tempted before and I still am. I learned to live with this hunger, this painful void. Maybe a part of me did step off into this black gaping bottomless grave that I’ve tried to fill up with thoughts and actions they call unholy. 

The road to self-destructopia: PART I 

I dunno exactly when I swerved and started a journey on this unmarked road. Everything was as it should’ve been, but maybe it was all too right. I neither had a voice, nor an opinion. I obeyed most of my life. I listened and there was always a worm tugging at the back of my brain saying, “maybe you should make the decisions.”. I never had a room of my own, let alone a life I could be truly independent in. 

True independence is not a cup of tea for the generic or the intellectual nor is it a choice the former and latter would make. It’s a place some souls find themselves in one single pale morning- an unexpected limbo. What they make of it is an individual choice for those mentally conditioned to ignore the bigger picture. For the rest of us, who can’t be blind to the futility of it all, it’s purgatory.

To be continued…

Engraved by sheer rage, a flicker of the elusive fire of teenage rebellion,
Strong words, though clichéd, were spoken, etched.

Too precious those words, to reside on mere paper. No, a knife for once shall be mightier than the pen.

Fleeting conversations twixt strangers carried out in ink that aches to be wiped off.

Years go by, those books of wood that tell tales not tall, but simple truths-yet soaked in pain, hunger and sorrows of forgotten years of a neglected age, remain author less.

They scream “reminisce!” ;Silent laments are seldom heard.

Like echoes and everything transient,

They fade away with the clock, hand in hand.

-shunya

Messed-up-mind-of-mine

To set things straight, I’m merely talking to a computer screen. I don’t expect anyone to lay their eyes on these combinations of letters and words strung up like every other blog post on the internet. No, this is me just ranting in a room that’s populated by a semi-social voiceless mass of flesh and blood with a mild OCD. I’m one of those who enjoy their space at the end of the day, the said space-enjoyment not necessarily restricted to the said hours. I like being alone. I like staring at the rest of society as a separate being and at myself as an appendix is to a human body. I’ll update this page as per my convenience and I wont be sticking to a concrete schedule. If anyone does happen to read all this and in some reality does happen to enjoy it, good on me, good on ya. Ciao for now.

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