Yet (Excerpt)

If there is anything that can be said of this life,
it is all the more richer than when I was born
because of the memories accrued
from the pains and pleasures of life.
It is the waiting that matters
more that the event I am waiting for.

The Daily Muck

As I muck through each day in tiredness and dread, it seems the day doesn’t end. Decisions and responsibilities call for my action which seems delayed and not forthcoming. I am only glad I got out of this mess, yet every year, the return decays my confidence, and augment my sorrows and incapacitates me further than I ever could. I am a schoolboy once again, deferring and useless at commanding. The rank is just a burden and shames me, a useless piece of insignia that reminds me of what I am actually worth. I surrender since that is my only course.

Meaning of Life (Part 1)

The meaning of life
Is death
As naked bodies lie
Layers upon layers
In disenchanted breaths
The lewd leerings
Of passer-bys
Their soft, silky sighs
Bears no recognition
Of the embraced dead

Overdue

After the outing, I feel like a total idiot, a parasite living off other's humour. It's like, I am a total stranger, and I wonder, is it worth the trouble? When you ask me, why don't I arrange that blind date, I wonder again, whatever for? Whatever for?
I can't love anything. Not even myself.

One has to find the meaning for himself. Things come and go, but I resolutely hold on to my knowledge. I must find the meaning to continue living, if not for myself, then for others. It doesn’t make sense to kill myself over such little objects of fancy and memory, yet I can’t get over it. And I don’t know why.

I must regain myself, I must. I must overcome myself. I must, I must. When my quaser is within my reach, should I release it? Where is the sense of satisfaction when I am on my path? It is seemingly nonsensical.

Shadowmoor

As day passes into night, and the coin has two faces, so does this entity have two sides. Misanthropic yet craving for society, alternating between episodes of joy and depression, this autistic fellow has given way to that syncophant and jester, although at times regressing into hermitude and the state of wonderment as to how anyone can or should relate to other beings, but it has been a success, if not a disaster. No one should know, and yet there is that urge to tell. I was asleep, yet wide awake and insanely clear-headed. It's a catastrophe and a blessing that this blog gets visited and I am horrified and glad; I have come far, yet has remained in that exact spot I was twenty years ago. This is my bi-polar disorder, not some attempt at poetic skulduggery.

It is a struggle to find myself, and often I land up in that tender darkness which seems so eerie and compelling, and mere moments later, that blighted light of cruelty comes on, comfortable yet terrifying. I am that undecided, and in all probability, would never be.

My friend told of one autistic guy, who interpreted the road sign 'Watch for rocks' as literally, exchanging rocks for a watch, and I am inclined to recall, ten, twenty years ago, I would do the same. In fact, till now, I have some difficulty understanding what humans in general want or the reason for doing it. It's just that incomprehensible. Why can't they say it properly? Darkness draws itself as the day tomorrow waits, or rather, waylays me.