So a lot of people seem to have a lack of hand-eye coordination. I seem to be lacking severely in heart-mind coordination. But then the more mature ones would try to edify that such is the case with so many lesser mortals, why is this moron cribbing. To them I say Fuck You, this is my blog. This is where I cry! This-is-where-yoouuu-diiee. Err, or something like that.
I have a love-hate relation with sanity. The more it tries to love me, the more I hate it.
To further illustrate my heart-mind coordination deficiency, consider this; I have about 8 hours worth of work to do before tomorrow morning 10 ‘o’ clock. So that leaves me with about 6 hours to sleep, eat, shit and do other general stuff, and ZERO time for blogging. This is, if I work for straight 8 hours till 4 in the morning. My brain understands this, ponders over the herculean task ahead and politely albeit firmly, asks me to start working.
Now here is the beauty of heart, it gives a compelling argument appealing to my vanity and tells me how I can heroically finish off the work in a mere 4 hour stretch if I seriously get to it. And how this atrocious work regimen demands an explosion of sarcasm filled blog post. And I give in. After all who doesn’t fall prey to the romanticism of heroics against adversity.
PS I am so looking forward to that Leh trip.
Oh there are so many things I wish I could write here. But then that would make me look weak, naïve, foolish, suicidal and perhaps too emotional for my comfort.
It might also paint me as a diabolical maniac, a callous bastard, a pervert, a schizophrenic and an in general mentally unstable being; also something which I wouldn’t want.
It probably would expose me to the world, force me to stare at my insecurities and remind me of all what I have lost; not a pleasant possibility by any stretch of imagination.
Scariest thing of all, it would let people know what I think about them. What I think about myself. Not pretty, trust me. So I persist, trudging on, carrying the burden of my guilt.
And he just lay there numb, powerless and blissfully blanked out; but only at the surface. Deep down inside his heart was twirling in the sea of unease, drowning under the heavy weight that periodically stifled his soul.
The road ahead was not untrodden by him. he knew the pain, he knew it goes away; eventually. But he no longer had the will-power to suffer the ache. His mind screamed for release, if only he had a switch to block the static. He wanted the end to come soon. So he lay there, numb, powerless and blissfully blanked out.
ever heard to sum random blabbering of a turbulent mind…well i will give u a chance hereby.
see without any risk of stepping into the realm of self praising pompous hard asses, i can safely declare that i just might be the guy with the most sensitized emotional quotient.
yeah believe me and i am sayin this without an ounce of exaggeration…u need less than a pin drop to metamorphosize me from bubbly happy-go-lucky kiss-my-ass teenager to a pensive hermit hidden within the folds of Himalayas…and here is the strange part…the hermit doesn’t necessarily sit gloomily all day lng…as u wud be expected of a bogged down guy…he hides himself in this estranged mist of disenchantment and begins dishing out his own self calculated interpretations of every phenomenon worth talking two hoots about in this world …..