When I started this blog, I had the heartfelt intentions of giving it a significant portion of my life, partly because I wanted to provide a window to the voices in my head and chiefly because I didn’t have anything better to do with my life. It has been more than six months and it was only last night, when I was feeling so alone that it made me sick, that i realised that I never gave it the promised piece of my time.
During the past more-than-six-months, other reasons have sprouted up like parasitic mushrooms feeding on chunks of my peace and making me more of a writer and less of everything else. All these reasons are in a constant battle for primacy with the mentioned ones. One of them is the hatred i have developed for people. Not some particular person, just people. Like when groups of friends collect like ghouls of regrets and they talk in howling voices that are meaningless and leave you hollow, empty and aloof. Like a lonely bubble floating in a sea of people. And it’s dark too. So dark that the only light that seems to enter my life comes from the embers of my cigarette. That. Those are the kind of people i’ve grown to hate.
The curious thing is that when I see these people as individuals who, from the tip of their head to their rounded heels, I’ve learnt to love and hate and love again, they stir the most primitive yet profound feelings that I concealed, long ago, in the most obscure regions of my existence under glacial covers of indifference.
What do i do about them?
The answer came to me last night in a dream that comprised of sloth, sullen expectations creeping up walls, that seemed endless, towards people frolicking on the horizons that I knew I would never touch. The answer was written on the walls. These were words of a writer that I’m not particularly fond of – Mr. John Green.
“1.Don’t care too much. 2. Shut up. Everything unfortunate that has ever happened to me has stemmed from failure to follow one of these rules.”
I know it was a weird dream and I can’t make much sense of it either but these words, I know for certain, are going to stick with me for a long time. A really long time.
Okay. I again lost track of the main motive for writing this post in the jibber-jabber stemming from my head. Arghhhh.
So what I wanted to declare is this: This blog, which is the victim of my mindless recklessness, is my first child from now on. My little baby. And also, burning carcinogenic sticks don’t need to be the only light sources in my life, machines with colorful display screens can do a far better job.
Welcome baby. (I know I sound cheeky.)