.

I'm angry, and I'm disappointed. I'm sure nobody cares, and that's the way it should be. So to no one in particular, I shall not blog.

Just... wrong.

It's true. People are selfish. In myriad ways. They inevitably always want something in return. And it doesn't surprise me anymore. I flinch, but it's momentary. Metal has it's benefits. Except dents weaken.

It surrounds, and sometimes it's not so crude. Sometimes it's so gentle that you never know until you've examined the damage. Or when it hits you brutally, one day. You've to ready, expectant. It's wrong somehow, this constant alert. It takes the pleasure out of things, or atleast lessens it. It makes me cautious, and I tread softly. Almost too softly, and one day I can't take it anymore and go back to striding. And then I recede in horror, inevitably. Sometimes I'm surprised, pleasantly, and it's almost a reassuring feeling. Almost. I hate being aware. Actually I don't. I just hate the ugly truths. They shouldn't be truths. They don't deserve to be. They should be done away with, and I'm not wistful of any sort of utopia. It's just that I know that things can change. Have I not lived that difference ? Am I not living it, in so many ways ?

Bile.

There’s just this feeling that arises from the deepest depths of my stomach. I squirm in irritation and disgust. I’m almost repulsed. For how long? Why can’t I be indifferent? Is it not in my temperament to be so? Sometimes I think I’m too spirited for my own good.

There are moments when I really want to do something drastic. Like shout at someone hard. So that they know exactly what’s on my mind. And they don’t dream of acting stupid again. Or shake people violently hoping that it would rattle their brains enough to get them to actually function. Maybe shouting at people would actually cause them to blink at me even more stupidly, and shaking people would just get them dizzier than they are. Aaarrrghhh.

Ugh.

As of today, I've decided to be less cautious. I knew that people were stupid. That they existed, and in hordes, who were mentally incapable to understand half of what I uttered (which was said out loud only for I hoped they would be intelligent enough to understand) and definitely nothing of what I thought.
I thought it was narrow and elitist of me to think people as inferior to my intellect for they probably knew much that I was completely ignorant of. Also, that it was my human duty to understand why they didn't, couldn't know certain things. To treat them kindly and not harbour any feelings of supreme contempt like some of my friends did. Even if they did not know certain things, who was I to condemn them? I should accept them the way they were, and hope for them to evolve. This was not meant to be patronising in any way. It was just something that warned be from becoming a snob, in any way.
I still believe in most of this, but I'm cracking. Too many people prove to be stupid in too many ways for me to hold conversations with them anymore. It's just the way they think, and how it is so silly that they can't even see it, that makes it unbearable for me to talk to them. I don't even know what to say that they would actually understand the same way I'm relating it. It's this huge gap that exists in our understandings that renders it impossible for us to actually converse. This has absolutely nothing to do with communication gaps or so. It has nothing to do with differing definitions. Crap, it has NOTHING to do with words at all. I mean, unless we're talking about how sunny the day is or which flavour ice-cream tastes better, I can't think of any topic where I would not be disgusted with them. Their responses are so infinitely petty and crookedly constructed that I shrink back in horror. Horror not because of their deformed thought process, but horror for they in no way were lesser equipped than me. It would have been a different matter altogether if we were taught different things and that's how our responses are so uneven; then I would reverted back to what I had always thought true. That I will not, cannot be contemptuous of them. But here, they had the same schools, same teachers, and same kind of environment where I grew. I look to them to be weighed in equal scales as I weigh myself. And find them to be this. How do I forgive them after this? I can't. I won't.




This was written after an especially annoying revelation that came while learning certain things certain people held true that made the author choke and go green, she felt so ill. So pardon her harsh tone. She was seeing red. Tearing her hair out and hyperventilating. Yes, you've got her perfectly now.

Slowly it mounts.

I don't like feeling vulnerable. I blurt out things i intend to keep to myself.

January 6 : I said we will have a fight.
Earlier, i told you how i always manage to convince people that they dont like me. Without them realising my active role. It's eerie, how i'm always right.
"Just a friend" is not enough, you think. To me, it can never be "just" one. You are wrong.
It was as intimate, as you could get with me. You never realised that, did you ? You always wanted more, aspired to grab more. No. Firmly I say. I decide what i want to share. If you have a problem with that, then go fuck off. If you can take me for what i have to offer, and no false pretensions about what i choose not to offer, then, then you deserve me. "I wish that had a consequence" you say. You have the consequence in front of you. Either live with it, or reject it and move on.


When i'm at my most vulnerable, it's curious how seemingly nondescript things help me. Talking about school. Drinking hot milk. With Bournvita. What disconcerts me ? Recalling conversations that remind me of long forgotten things. Reliving some moments and looking at them, now unhappily.


I shy away from people at these moments. Finally, i may have found your cure. Brooding doesn't help, we knew. But talking to oneself, it does, in a way. Then talking to others some. Then ending abruptly and going back to writing. Maybe its still not a cure. A temporary analgesic, like you said.

Why is it that people take my concern for love? I mean, it is love, but not the kind they construct it to be. I love you. I'm not in love with you. Is it that hard to accept it? Is it really so rare? This love? It comes to me as the most natural thing in the world. Does it not, to you?

I will not.

I'm not being condescending. I was kind. Is it so hard to understand kindness? To appreciate it? Is cruelty the only language you understand? Stupid me, i actually cared. But was it? For you, i cannot change.

Pusillanimous

Your words have no meaning.
Are they just uttered,
To fill a void?
To fill the abyss
That separates us?

You ignore it,
Thinking I'll take no notice.
You're wrong;
Yet again.

Your words are a pale echo
Of what they are
Supposed to mean.
You're a shadow
And aware of it

You hide from it
You camouflage it
But you're still a shadow
Looking to be opaque.

Phlegm

I'm hopping mad
Don't you see?
It irks me so
But you don't see.

You, who patronise me
And beat your chest
You, who presume
For you think you read my face
Yes you, who advise
In that condescending tone
I'm thwarting you;
I'm letting you go.