Rage!

"Perfection is a myth.Its an unconquerable fort. It does not exist. Its an illegible utter from a swaggering person's foul mouth. Words like 'perfection', 'best' never existed. We just coined them to enhance our standards. To outdo ourselves to deliver better outputs. To excel selves & our peers."

(The above phrases are for my brother from the same mother. rest of you skip to the below lines)

A lot of shit has been thrown around from shotguns with their triggers being my close people who literally matter to me. Alcohol sessions started hitting back on me in an outrageous manner. This post had been the victim of my procrastination and finally, it had to come out. So here it is.

There is this shit which is recurrent in my life. It just squeezes my intestines inhumanly whenever it attacks me when it is least expected & I am least prepared to confront it. It totally compels me to do all insane stuff & spell out all crazy words that go on to ruin the next few days of my life. The most amusing thing about this one is I was never directly responsible nor involved in its occurrence. This really has been testing my patience and perseverance levels for a year so far. I wonder whether the directly involved would ever feel a pinch of badness about me being affected unnecessarily, again & again.

Life's going pretty slow, besides being ridiculously gloomy. The prospect of looking forward for tomorrow has vanished a long back. The same Moon Star with those royal tea cups, same old school friends with whom I could actually make an attempt to strike a yap session.

This continuum of tangible frames attached to each other rolling aimlessly till now require a real throttle to jolt back & forth, so that it picks up some pace, leaving behind the intricacies which bother the most.

Been in a super pissed off mood since morning & felt this had to come out. Been through more pissing contest of proving 'who's-more-pissed-off', the last night. That just sucked.

Aye! But somehow it feels sensible at the end of the day to keep to self feeling bad about things that really matter (in turn putting in some deliberate effort to bring in some change at the end) rather than getting drunk jobless-ly, finding a cat on the road, getting it drunk with milk & eventually letting it shit on your own pants.

Soon! 

To all of them, who complete us!

There is this buzz of 'finding-someone-for-selves' going on around me lately. People are getting ready to fall in love. At least, they started being welcoming. I've witnessed a virtual love pair finally joining their hands after 6 whole months of separation, a communist identifying the need to have a partner & a liberal desperately waiting to fly off to embrace the love of his life.

When being in centre of these happenings, a question surfaces. Why is it important to have someone with whom you want to be as transparent as naked? Is that a result of chemical reactions in our brains? Is that the inevitable flow of nature? Or is it the culmination of both? I choose the last one though.

One day or the other, you realize their need. Surely. Those deliberate efforts to find the love of your life. I found mine, a year ago. It defies your dedicated trials you threw to achieve anything, so far. It makes every other thing look tiny and minuscule. It grows out to be magnanimous.

Even a 'apparently-super pissed- with- his-love' bastard would actually miss her & cry when he's drunk (at least). She's not in town. I tried to make fun saying I am granted holidays but I feel her absence massively.

I can understand how hard is it for Sandy. They suddenly occupy the prime priority in our lives. That's so surprising (here I am not trying to convey disgrace to parents at all).

You go to obscene lengths to see them happy. Some friend of mine takes a bus silently to travel 700 odd kilometres to spend a day with his queen, some fella tries to swallow his sadness caused by his love's absence by engaging himself with books, one occasionally identifies the need to have a partner. I write about her whenever I miss her & can't talk to her.

She made me buy bouquets of red roses which I never thought I'd be so close to being romantic & actually buy them. I never thought that giant penguin would cry with his head hung down & his tears getting mixed up with his beer.

Its wonderful how they make you do 'crazy-to-you' things & still not regret  a pinch about them, instead drop her back home, stop for a cigarette on the way back home, light the cigarette, smile over the portrayed stupidity & yet resolve to repeat them more often to seen them giggle.


To Love, hats go off.