07/03/2014 by Siddiqui Fayesal
Having levelled my palace, don’t erect a hovel and complacently admire your own charity in giving me that for a home.
What do you know about working hard to get out of your depression? Nothing. If one were to ask me why I go through thoughts that pull me down I’d look at them and scoff a reply in my head that’d make them go red. But, in the real world, I keep my mouth shut. I don’t speak. I clam up. It’s not because I feel weak and tired. Tired, maybe; but never weak. I don’t know why I get these days where the slightest activity is a bane. All I want to do is get away from people.
It doesn’t happen, especially when you add parents to this situation. It’s not even their fault. Poor blokes. All they’re trying to do is lift your spirit. Little do they know that the more concern they shower on you the worst it gets. Then, to stop them, and this makes absolutely Zero sense I swear, you get mad at them and tell them to leave you alone.
One would believe that this angry outburst would help one feel a bit more alive. But, no. It makes it worse. Guilt assails you. You’d rather kill yourself with a blunt knife in your back rather than go through that guilt. The funny part is that you knew it’ll make you feel bad; you still went ahead with it. Poor mum was trying to lift the veil and peer inside the soul of her son who wasn’t his usual self…
And, guess what, you hurt the one person who you shouldn’t have. Of course, guilt brings along with it, in the usual fashion, the disaster of the impending after effects. How will you try and coax a smile on her face while still burning from the rainbow of emotions inside you? How will you try and pick one emotion, the weakest emotion at that time, mind you, and surface it to your corporeal self and transmit it out to the universe deceiving everybody?
You will try, won’t you?
Despite knowing that your mum, of all people, will see through the pathetic attempt at the charade, you will try. And, take my word, most probably you will succeed. At least you’ll be lead to believe that. But, if you scratch the surface and ask yourself an honest question you will know. We all do it.
After this you will turn around and your smile, that lit your face in triumph after your mum smiled back, will slide off your face like…like the fresh belly spilling out the carcass of bovine; like virgin rainfall on the tomb of your loved one; like the slow descent of a falling mountaineer.
You will crash down. You will drop down back on the earth that you belong to. And your irritation will return with vengeance. The only difference between the falling mountaineer and yourself would be the sweet permanent slumber of death. Yes, the descent would be painful for the mountaineer; not for you.
Because you knew you belonged at the bottom of the rung. You knew the high, the happiness and the jovial laughter sessions that lasted miniscule lifetimes were temporary. You knew that those “Hey, guys, let’s go for a drive” were nothing but intermissions for the real deal; preparation for the return trip down to the lowest rung.
When you’re back, you know that life has finally caught up with you.
Happiness? It’s an illusion. The quicker you know it the better.
Love? It’s doesn’t exist. The love that we know is nothing but Lust gift wrapped in the hide of a dead animal; or sometimes plastic. The point that I’m trying to make is that we’re prone to attraction, not Love.
Love at first sight? Yeah, right!
We know nothing about Love and Happiness. It is not what we think it is. Humans are incapable of Love in the truest sense. Happiness is always temporary. It never remains by your side no matter how much you slave for it. It’s exactly like the uppity humans who make a glass house in the midst of a slum and dole out loose change as charity. We’re scum. We haven’t been wired to attain Moksha. It’s a utopian idea of bringing humans to the level playing field of Gods.
Not possible, mate.