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.

Deluge

It's the season of torrential rains, as I struggle to keep afloat, wave after wave of work come crashing down on me. And the flu is just icing. How can I ever clear my load? No exercise, no studying now. Just tuition and marking. The misery of life.

The Blue

Welcome to the Blue. The Blue is a state of mind where you have no qualms, no restrictions or delusions about your existence and your path. Your state of mind controls everything and works only in your interest.

Where the Red and Black is a state of unbridled violent cruelty, the Blue and Black is a state of passive, disinterested cruelty.

The pure Blue is that unafflicted state of maturity and epitome of power and knowledge. Welcome to the Blue.

What a show!

What a show everyone put up. Almost everyone behaves in the conformist way and the outcasts get lambasted. When did color become an issue? Why must everyone be that atavistic? Color is an exemplification of my philosophy, my character, and to change that is the equivalence of depriving me of my self. I shouldn't be giving it up for the sake of petty traditons.

I dislike it, but now, I hate it. No wonder they say a person can really affect your perspective towards an issue.

Yet again

Drudge begins anew
I thought I knew
That life is a bleah
Not being here, not being there