bickering of a mad woman


  I don’t really know if its normal at all to think the way I do. For a start I’ve been saying my name aloud in a room alone for about half an hour and wondering ‘does that sound the way I think it sounds?’ There is this big ball of air in my chest that I’m unable to swallow and my head is so full of vacuum. I won’t say its bad but its quite different even though its not the first time its happening.

  I don’t remember my first day at school. But, I do remember when I could not wear my bag that morning. Oh yes, I remember that pretty well. Now to think about it, its been like sixteen years and I’m sure, to many people, I still don’t know how to wear a bag. The point is, two decades on earth and I don’t even know what am I doing. I’m so lost. All good things I have in my life, what did I do to deserve that. Besides, does it matter what I deserve and what I don’t. We all know how its going to end. It’s not the thought of death that makes me uncomfortable. Its the count of endless and meaningless days that puts me off. Maybe its just this time. Its just these days that are making me go nuts about things. Nonetheless, everything seems so hollow. Every conversation, so meaningless. Every effort futile and every reward so worthless. Thousands are born everyday and thousands still die everyday. They live and they have lived. What for?

   There might be no reasonable answer to these things but how can you go on or find motivation to do anything at all when you so clearly and obviously know that ‘we are born alone and we die alone. The rest is illusion’. I don’t even know who said it and somehow, that too like so many other things doesn’t matter. I try my best to stay positive and find something good to keep myself going in the right direction. I just doubt what is the right direction. I am very much capable of thinking about one thing though. That is, a six feet deep pit that is waiting for me all the time. And that’s just not it. The next thing I think of is cannibals taking me out of it. I hope I’m not good for their taste. I so hope I make them vomit. 

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2 thoughts on “bickering of a mad woman

  1. hey it’s okay..

    and I understand it man, although I cannot say that I can exactly know what you felt or are feeling, can we ever? But then shit happens then its past and there’s a lot more shit waiting for us, what I do is, try to lock up all those good thoughts with that person, a friend and when things change, the person dies for me with all the good hanging around. But then memories do what they do. Hurt.

    Everything sounds like a setup, every effort futile, every game prefixed, so what are we doing here?

    Well all I do is sings Mraz’s song then
    I tried to live my life and live it so well
    But when it’s all over is it heaven or is it hell
    I better be happy now that no one can tell, nobody knows
    I’m gonna be happy with the way that I am
    I’m gonna be happy with all that I stand for
    I’m gonna be happy now because the boy’s going home.

    The boy’s gone home.

    I hope what I said made sense, it seldom does

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