The question that has been looming large in my head is why I am not able to write. Write something, anything, just simply write. Actually vent it out. The more I thought the more I couldn’t get myself to type down into gibbering words on the keypad. Finally gathering whatever little ounce of determination that had been stored in some remote part of the mortal remain that I still have, directed them to write down something. And it just so happens that just typing down the reasons for the long absence is enough to stretch up to 100 words of the English language (104, to be precise and 113 till this sentence closes). Phew!!!
Questions and answers. I make them, and get lost in answering them. “Why” being the most favourite starting point of course of the numerous questions.
Life went the crazy road. I’m still being sane. Apart from the regular enticing indulgences of killing myself to end it all. Yes, sorry to disappoint many with these sadistic approach but I just thought let me just be truthful to myself and to the fact that actually saying it out loud may actually stop me from thinking more about it. Killing myself is not the only thought that crosses my reveries but the mere idea of just giving in to the demands of the craziness that life has thrown up. Now, “crazy” is just a very polite way of saying how fucked up the situation is.
Apart from my pseudo-optimistic self and others who try to console, do throw in bubbles of hope which do reach me, but I miserably fail to store them safely. Only if I knew how to store and use them like medicines whenever the going gets tougher and tougher.
Khair, the story of cribbing can go to extents that it might not be tiring for you to read but tiring for me to explain to you as well. Thing is when the going gets tough, no matter whether you get tougher or not. You sure learn a lot about people and their being “friends” with you. So, here’s me ending the cribbing and finally able to post something on the blog.