An Investigation

Oh jeez! I feel so wasted. And in the bargain, I think I need to re-think – umm not re-think. I think I need to take a good look at the friends I term as friends and throw some out of the window.

In other words, I need to overhaul my friends list.

You see I befriended people merely because at the time when I was to befriend people, I wanted to be nice and sweet and admired and loved by all.

Not anymore.

I did so much for them and did so many things because of them. Things that I would never have contemplated were they not to put them in my head. I had sex out of wedlock, I began to watch porn, I tried to find humour in crass lewd, third-rate films, and I forced myself to laugh at jokes that I never ever wanted to.

I did so much and what did they do for me? Well, some gave me a ear and a shoulder to cry on when my boyfriend ripped me apart and left. And that same set did make me reason out with myself whenever I quarreled with  my family. These I admit were and are true friends. And they are not the ones who encouraged sex out of wedlock nor introduced me to porn.

The other set – the one that just shut up and kept silent when I was awash with problems is the one I want out now. They are the ones who insist on being around only in happier times. They drink, smoke, leer, lech, and just because they read a few intellectual books term themselves liberated. I think that’s the most scandalous representation of liberty and that has been my opinion only lately. Earlier, I did – like a blind fool – think that all what they did constituted a ritual that freed an individual of restrictions conferred by society.

By George! What a fool I was to think so. The only reason they did all that they did was because they were addicted to being happy and did not want to confront the most intimate of feelings and emotions at all. They thought themselves (and they actually are) inept at handling all that and I was so blind, I did not see the obvious!

Anyway, at 30, I can see all that and more. And I don’t want to have anything to do with that pack at all.

I am better off with my books, my music, my movies, and the select few – my family including – who know me and want me in their lives for what I am.

Monologues

What’s the meaning of life? I don’t seem to understand it. It seems as plain as a plate starved of  lunch at times – bland, no expression on itself, and not in the least ready to make any conversation.

I have often tried to find answers to understand my existence. But they always elude  me. They giggle and show promise of a solution from afar. And when I near them, those very answers pretend to feign an ignorance of my question that is oh so irritating.

Why do we live here in this world, really? Why? Is it because we chose to – at some point in our lifelines way back in the past? Did we ask The Creator to let us alight here for we thought Earth to be a dazzling star of happiness from afar? Were we that daft to not realize Heaven is far better than Earth and that we were taking it(Heaven) for granted?

You see once I start to think of these questions, they just arrive a dime a dozen into my thoughts and populate it so furiously, I have no way to cope with all of them at once. So in a fit of desperation I just shoo them away and try to occupy my mind with something else.

But they come back you know – one by one. Some wander into my reverie in the evenings when I am in the bus on my way home. Some make me toss and turn once I am all weary and tired in bed for the night. And some – the most irritating of them all – hit me in the head as I make my way back to office in the mornings.

Sigh! This is so tiresome – thinking about it – about the way I think about it all. I wonder why I have to think so much. Perhaps I have a fit of epilepsy in such matters – well, wrong choice of words, but then what should I term this whole thing that eats me up so much without so much as giving me a chance to comprehend its presence, its existence?

The End

A bright new day sailed in this morning. And with it it brought me the realization that my boyfriend that was has moved on and I have to move on too.

I spoke to him yesterday and we were sailing smoothly till we began to talk about sex. I as usual rattled off whatever I had been doing. And then I pointed out that I never get to know his exploits at all.

Well he explained that he thought I get all jealous of his sexual escapades and so he was refraining from telling me.

Well, I said, now that I know he doesn’t like me emotionally and sexually, I had might as well hear it from him.

That was a big mistake. BIG mistake, really.

He had slept with two people after we broke up and according to him they both were worth the wait that ensues after you fix up a sex appointment.

With the first man, he had sex thrice on the same day and the moment I heard that, I turned white and went cold.

With the second, he loved every bit of it and then came the news that this second guy was the one he had refused to sleep with when he was dating me.

All this was told to me with an eagerness of a child exploring a new world without any idea of the havoc it can cause should its explorations go wrong.

You can imagine how I felt. I was in a total state of shock.  I still managed to say I must move on given the fact that he had, already.

And then he threw a bomb. He said it would do me a whole lot of good to see a shrink.

I refused and I told him I’ll handle it the way I want to.

He said okay and I had lost all intention of talking to him anymore.

I was in a state of shock and was thoroughly robbed of my senses. Yet, I managed to say I need to sleep for I had to come to work the other day. And so saying, I hung up.

Well, it’s the end – definitely the end. There can be no sequel now whatsoever for this chapter. I don’t love him anymore, I hate him for not even realizing the harm and devastation he caused, and I never ever want to speak to that rotten piece of flesh anymore.

I Mind The Routine

I have a job. And it pays me well. I have work to do. And it keeps me occupied well enough to justify the pay. But, every Monday, I just have to wake up and whine about the routine that lies waiting for me all week.

It’s a bland routine, really. I go to work, work, then travel back home, bathe, dine, and then sleep. The next morning, the cycle begins yet again.

Ever so often, I feel I must run away from this routine. I feel I must run away to a snow-clad valley and settle in a cottage by the river there.

It’s escapism alright. I know it is. Who – with a job that pays – will want to plonk it all and run away?

Well, all said and done, I think I must run away someday. At least, then I will not say I did not ever run away!

The Journey Has Begun…

There are moments that induce me to sit alone at times. So I sit alone. I go blank in my head and sit and watch anything that is in my line of sight. The other day, I sat staring at my toenails. They had grown into delightful half-moons and my toe seemed quite happy with them. There they sat like tiaras on each of my toes and I felt too lazy to shift my gaze from them.

As my eyes participated in this staring session, my mind started to occupy itself with thoughts about my faults, my deeds gone wrong, and my reltationship that left me in shambles. These days my faults and my wrong deeds seem to merge into my relationship. So actually, I was thinking of one thing only: My catastrophic relationship.

Half the time I cannot understand why it ended so badly. The other half, I feel stupid to let myself think it was a relationship. And the times I am not thinking about whether it was or it wasn’t a relationship, I keep thinking about why I did get into it in the first place.

I wander in a little self-pity then. I throw caution to the winds a little later and wallow deep into the cauldron that boils with sympathy for me. Naturally then, I start to hate myself for falling in love and being such a fool in love.

You see the feeling comes and goes and as it walks in and out of my being, it pulls my moods in all directions as well.

I oscillate from being elated to being down in the dumps to feeling completely bland to feeling like a mass of concrete about to be broken to bits.

Love and a disastrous aftermath can be rather gruesome. And even worse is the state of those beings who let themselves be their guinea pigs.