minus

If some had created this, they would have destroyed it for what it is now.
Perhaps, they are waiting for it to destroy by itself and find it amusing.

burning the bridge

Wish I can go into a trance. I cannot bear this cruel transformation of my potent self into an ordinary being. I cannot watch my self surrendering to stupid clauses of reality. My world of dreams and fantasies fades when I am subjected to the mere practicality of things. I cannot let the ways of reason kill my person. I strangely remember my old ways of being stubborn and it has transformed into an obsessive compulsion of doing things perfectly.

To be nobody but yourself in a world that is doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight.

What is the difference between the rider and the horse when both are equally powerful?

Instinct.

déjà vu

the mirage: Above all can and must, there is want.
(the mind)

mild One: What does that mean?
(the soul)

I can and must do something, but i do not want to.

Truth is, you can't do it. Don't give reasons.

It does not matter if I can or can't when I don't want to do it.

In that case, you can do something that you can't if you want.

Yeah, whatever. I don't know what to do with my life, shall I put an end to this?

You are a loser. You can't even face a couple of problems.

Like I said earlier, I don't want to. I am sick of deaths, delays and disappointments, they are the only things happening in my life.

You'll be a bad example.

There is no necessity for me to be otherwise.

People will think you are a coward.

I don't care even if they think that way now.

You don't want to do anything, but that doesn't mean that you have to end this, you can just be.

Yes I can. But I am confused. There is an inch of dust spread on my table and I am doing nothing about it.

You need change.

I need something. I am sick of everything. I want things to work out my way with no obstacles.

That is an Impossibility.

I know and that makes it more irritating.

Do you remember that you said 'The moment you decide to kill yourself, do it immediately, because you are no longer worth living' ?

Yes I do. I never imagined that I would become the you in there. I feel really bad that my life is turning out this way. I do not know what has happened that is changing me. I did not want to change with situations. I do not know how I let go of things. I do not know what I want.

You do know what is changing you. You do know that you can get a grip and you know for sure, what you want.

Yeah, I know what I want, where I want to be and how. I even know how to get there. But I do not know why I am not doing it.

...

Are you gone?

No, the last I included me.

Every I includes you. I feel guilty for having betrayed you and having failed your purpose. I feel bad, for you'll repent choosing me.

You haven't betrayed me, at least not yet and I am not going to let you do it, although I admit, that was a nice way you tried to end my contract.

Lol.

And I don't repent having chosen you, although I didn't have a choice.

Without shame, I'll take that as a compliment.

sea

The anchor searches for solid ground, the ship gets steered by the winds and currents. I look for rays of hope from some distant lighthouse. As the clouds bring memories, I am reminded of people waiting for me at the shore.

The sea has become my home, as I flow and ebb with it and go places without reason or direction. I have given up the purpose. I have lost the intention of finding land. I am neither happy nor sad in the sea. It crashes waves of inspiration from all sides of the ship, pushing it forward sometimes and rocking it otherwise. I have become tired of reading the skies, looking for stars and finding directions. I have grown sick of learning from my mistakes. My chances of finding land are minimal, my future looks bleak like the mist forming weird shapes at the horizon.

I feel grateful and guilty, for the sea and the sky which tried to show the way, for the lessons learned that went in vain, for the people who wait for me at the shore, but I have decided to float along, go to places where the sea takes me and drown when it calls.

timeline

Bliss of Clarity
Constraints of Saturation
Addiction to Depression
Blow of Pandemonium
Infection of Loss
Contamination by Influence
Vacuum of Indolence
Obscurity of Destiny

thoughts

Self Self Self
cursive, poems, seventies
exhaust smoke and rain
rain on earth
disappearing road
light
touch me not
relativity
rain against trees
Chopin, Brahms, Liszt
large glasses, gloves
free flow
sky turn
flat soles
stop line racing
the soul
high beaming on oncoming high beams
petrol, sound of engines
renaissance
moon
turbo whistle
dark
romantic age
acceleration
rainy mountains
trance
slow
painting
rotation, revolution
stripes, lines
bass thump
thought frequency
depression
inspiration, influence
creative
intellectual people
art
reflection, reflecting
arches, walls
ignorance, saturation
truth, deadlines
black and white
shadows
waterfall
empty
speed
horses
colours
rails, train windows
dew
long corridors
focus shift
names, titles
sync
mist
messages
losing the self
searching
mildness
mild One


The number of questions is always more than the number of answers.

I feel incapable of doing things that are to be done.
I am misplaced, grateful and desperate.

I am hunting for inspiration.
I have grown out of waiting.
I crave for change.

My future is vague, but signals keep pinging.
My emotions have reached a level of saturation.

I have no reasons to live nor any to die.
I have no reasons to explain and no necessities to probe.

My life is a one way road to a dead end.

now

Two years have passed and still I haven't moved. Things that I had to do shadowed things that I wanted to do. All I have done is few hours spent now and then, listening to myself and then the plunge into the grinding routine, into the vortex of spinning madness.

And today, even though I have all the time in this world, I am not moving. The thoughts of promises made, challenges thrown and dreams lived through are tormenting me. The very thought of the mounting number of dead deadlines is enough to kill me.

When I try to figure out why I'm static, I get a million totally unreasonable and irrelevant reasons. When I probe deeper, I find that the reason I'm not moving is that I'm not doing. I'm not doing things that are to be done.

Maybe I do not like what I have to do, maybe I'm not comfortable with what I have to work, maybe I'm totally unsure how it is going to work.

Including these, I have very few options.
I must become someone my soul directs or
I must start something to cater to what my heart wants or
I must work with options open for me right now and then later figure out what can be done.

I have decided to forget all the lapses and the aeons of delays made. I have decided to start tomorrow. If it is not tomorrow, then I shall consider myself unfit to survive in this world.

time to flee

I wanted to be the personification of constancy. Now, I am almost a personification of change. Changes driven by influence, which are short lived, dumb and irritating.

Influence plagues me from all around. It pours me into vessels of strange shapes and finds it amusing.

In this phase of agitated volatility, I desperately search for inspiration, something or someone who can hold me down so that I can stop changing.

For now, I'm grateful to all that inspires, for they remind me who I am every now and then, though not for long.

A word from some m or h shifts me from suicidal thoughts to something less intense.

Surprise showers, wind, the piano, poems, they spend the wasted hours of my life and turn them into something worthy.

I wish that I find something that I can hold on to forever so that I can be rid of this disease and be myself, until then, it is time to flee.

summer showers

It rained. It was like meeting an old friend. I realised that I should start counting the days I inhale the fragrance of wet earth and the wind when it rains, because these are the only days I live.

and...

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects.

Pablo Neruda

searching for the past

The evolution of this mind began with constraints, control and silence. It was fresh and untested. Things seemed simple and thoughts flowed with clarity. Emotions were reserved, words were filtered and messages were crisp. The field was large, the grass was green and the rope was short.

This too shall pass.

Life was too perfect that the mind got saturated. Things started to seem complex. Saturation made the mind to look at things that way. Art and music drove the mind and powered the soul. There was nothing else to consider and nothing else that mattered. The mind learned to ignore insignificant emotions and the soul endorsed its own obvious existence by magnification of creativity and imagination. The mind was drowning in inspiration. The paths laid seemed to go nowhere. Theories proved nothing to none. All there was to do was to float like a leaf in a storm. The mind began to get addicted to this state.

This too shall pass.

The mind then never knew what pandemonium was. There came a halt to the blind journey. The mind came to know what it was. It shook the soul out of the mind. Pandemonium was all about questioning an assumption and proving it wrong, again and again. Pandemonium was all about revealing a truth undramatically. The mind refused to accept the lesson and waited for answers, but time is a wise teacher. I lost myself.

The events formed a pattern that the mind identified. Every time I tried to lose control and slip into depression, some unpleasant event came my way, warned me of pandemonium and every time I overcame the addiction, things went on pleasantly. Though I felt addicted to that state and though I felt myself completely in that state and though I belonged to that state, the fear of pandemonium kept me away from my den. I started looking at things in simple ways. I kept my mind uncluttered and looked for inspiration. I talked more. I felt stupidly happy. I did ordinary things. I did them so frequently that I almost forgot who I was.

This too shall pass.

I stood near the open doorway of my coach, mountains flew past, trees disappeared around the corner, the gravel was a blur of gray and black lines. The wicked rhythm of the rails, the wind combing the hair and the pure speed of the engine munching down miles in seconds was all that I needed to remember my old ways. Addiction resurfaced.

Pandemonium. Come kill me.

This too shall pass.