The weirdness that I am....

Life is about twists and turns, ups and downs, the good and the bad, and the downright ugly; right? Most of us would like to live out their lives to a point where they can look back and not regret their journey. We, as a species, seem to be endowed with the capability to withstand insurmountable odds and attempt triumph. We have the cognitive capacity to understand abstractions like responsibility, accountability, morality, religiosity and other words with -ity at the end. And certainly, evolution played it's part in deeply instilling the survival instinct into all of us. Everything seems to tie into each other and play it's part in having us attempt to live as comfortably as possible through our path from birth to death. Not everybody likes everything they do during this journey but they seem to have the ability to adopt a fatalistic approach and shrug it off as something that was needed to be done. I swear, the holy God as my witness, I envy you all.

In one of my earlier blogs, I remarked that I might be an oddity stuck in an alternate reality. A good friend corrected me saying that I was an oddity stuck in this reality. And I am. My difference in a sense of self and a basic understanding of all of this started to develop by the time I was in the 6th grade or the 7th grade. I was not the brightest kid around and I knew that I wouldn't excel in academics a great deal. The reason was not that I wasn't the brightest. We all know human beings who, by nature of tremendous perseverance, have achieved great things. I knew I wouldn't excel in academics, or anything for that matter, because I simply did not care. That seems a vague statement and could have the reader's mind catch one of several trains of thought. And it is my intention to impress upon you to interpret it in the broadest possible manner. When I say I did not care, it doesn't mean that I wouldn't have wanted to get good grades or do well in something or that I wouldn't have derived any sense of accomplishment from doing above said things. I mean that whatever i perceived as meaningless, success or failure in the same also became meaningless to me. Small academic successes occurred sparsely and while these brought a little ray of joy into my life, I never managed to sustain them through and through because I always ended up asking the question, "What's the point?".

It might seem a foolish question and one that is borne of immature impertinence. It might also be one of those questions that doesn't really have a fixed answer and the answer is different for all of us. But everyone will unanimously agree that there is a point to everything we do in life. I am yet to find the point or the meaning. Even at a very young age, the thought of enduring drudgery simply to survive till death felt like a foolish notion. Somehow, the omnipresent idea that life was a gift and meant to be preserved at any cost seemed incorrect and devoid of proper reasoning. At that age I couldn't really explain my feelings or even understand why I felt that way. I was detached from my childhood in a major way because of this. Maybe it was because of all the psychiatric drugs I was put on to restore me back to 'normality' or maybe it was because of who I was and the way I perceived existence that I cannot remember more than the most meagre details about my childhood and school. When I try to think about it, it just feels like wading through a dull suffocating haze. Whenever I attempt to recall something specific about my childhood it leaves me with a feeling of utter discomfort. I don't know what exactly happened. To my knowledge I did not suffer any kind of major trauma. The only explanation that I can offer that makes any kind of sense is that I disconnected myself from the world. And why? Because I found it all meaningless. I've been obsessed with thoughts of death since very early in life. I even attempted it once. The thought of Death as a first resort has always been fairly common to me. And when the survival instinct in me kicks in and argues furiously against the idea, my mind always comes back with that damn question, "What is the point?".

To this day I have no answer and I honestly feel it no less than a small miracle that I'm still around to say all of this. This search for an idealistic concept of meaning has led me to destroy almost every single opportunity in my life to progress or do any good, to myself or the others around me. It's like a singular thread of failure running throughout as a result of 'giving up'. I have taken up (and given up on) nearly anything that I could try. I have a great initial fire to do something and days, weeks, or rarely, months into it, I start questioning the point of it and the lack of meaning and then ultimately quit without a thought about the consequences and the long term implications. I barely passed my 10th and the 12th. I abandoned two attempts at trying to earn a degree. I blame circumstances for my first failed attempt but maybe it's just denial at work. Maybe I lost faith in my endeavor and I set into motion a chain of events that ultimately led me to give it up too. I don't know what my problem is. I'd like to think that i'm still searching for an outlet that will let me focus my energy and when I find it, everything will be okay. It's very scary to think of the alternative (and possibly probable) point of view that it is in my nature to lose interest and then quit. If that is the case, I don't know what it makes me. A failure? A loser? A victim of his own mind? Does it really matter? I've been fortunate enough in life until now to always have someone waiting to catch me when I fall. That's not going to continue a whole hell of a lot longer. What will happen when I'm at the end of the road with nothing to my name? I don't know. The fear or anxiety I feel at that thought is never enough to make me reconsider my decision when giving up something. My mind is a scene of conflict and no side seems to be fighting with my best interests at heart. And the brunt of the collateral damage is inflicted upon the people that care for me, my friends and my family. The damage is both tangible and intangible. The people who care for me are the ones that are most vexed with me. It seems nothing short of an impossibility to try and make do something that will end up doing good for me. Injecting positivity into me is as good as trying to stick a needle into a rock and injecting water into it. Everybody tries to help and after sometime everybody throws up their hands and walks away.

I understand how tiring it might be to have someone like me as a friend or a family member. The whole idea of community is to try and help each other through life to achieve something good for yourself and each other. And when one of your ranks has fallen down and refuses to get up despite possessing the physical facilities to do so, it is confusing and frustrating. After a while though, people just give up and express thinly disguised apathy or disdain. Maybe i'll end up in life without a single clue, destitute. And maybe the thought of such a thing happening might be tremendously difficult for you to comprehend. I would just like people to understand that it is not a preferred alternative for me and if I could, i would take any and all steps to avoid it. I just want people to understand that the state of destituteness is much more preferable to me than doing something I hate simply to go through the biological mechanisms and live out my life till death. If I get to do something that I like and it helps me prosper, it would mean that someone somewhere is looking out for me. If it doesn't happen, it just means that He's too busy. I'll just be one more example of natural selection. I do not mean to sound callous or indifferent. I just wanted to express my process of thought. If you think i'm bull shitting and i'm simply lazy, cowardly, or any other colorful word you can think of, that's your call. I'm sure you'd understand that it's a good bet that someone who doesn't give a damn about life or death wouldn't fret a lot about what people think of him. I just wanted to write out some of my thoughts, there is no underlying purpose or message here. Say anything you want, just try and see things through my eyes, that's all. I hope all of you have wonderful lives.

Whispers through the darkness....

I was watching Shutter Island today and it completely screwed my head over. I was later looking through some old folders and found these notes. It's funny how a bunch of words on paper can cause you to relive memories in terrifyingly vivid detail. I was in two minds about whether to post these or not, but then denial of what you were in the past only leads to something bad. Acceptance of your past is a step towards affirmation and validation of your present. These were written a long time ago and may reflect in them all the immaturity i possessed back then. You can ask questions if you want, i may not answer them. You can question the logic or the absurdities, i may not reply. If it feels like adolescent angst, it probably is. Whatever you take from it is yours alone. I don't want people telling me that life is beautiful and any of that New Age philosophy crap. Keep it to yourself. Just read them and tell me what you think of them, if you want to.

Note 1
Those of us on that stand on the edge of the cliff called sanity always have the ocean of insanity staring us in the face. The stench hangs heavy in the air and we wobble dangerously, always pulling ourselves back just in time. Ceaselessly however, the waves of the mighty sea crash down constantly on the seemingly invulnerable structure and the cliff erodes slowly unbeknownst to us. As time passes the ground that always seemed solid beneath you seems suddenly shaky and before long you sink into the sea clinging tightly to all your convictions. You drown to the bottom; your face a picture of screwed up pain and adamancy. Eventually you're consumed and are neither distinct nor visible to those that care to look in. You are no more you. Some of us wake up in the middle of this perilous demise and try to claw their way back to land, only to be pushed firmly back in again. The weight of the ocean crushes you down while you lie there helpless. Memories flow out through your tears. Your mind poisons itself to try and stay alive and is corroded into nothingness. Soon, the shell withers away and no trace remains. Glimpses, musings, and flashes of memory are the only evidence that you ever existed and the fire of sympathy and pity burns them clean as well. A soul is lost where nobody was ever sure if one existed. Nothing changes though. Does the universe flinch if a microcosm within itself disappears? It cannot.

Note 2
Do you know what it means to question your sanity? One of the fundamental foundations of a person's existence and affirmation of the same is the ability to have complete faith in your rationality and goodness of state of mind. Do you know how it feels when that wall is shattered to pieces? We have an operating perception and definition of the world that we live in and the reality that we derive from it. When the acidic doubt seeps through it feels like ice running through your veins. The pain that you experience when you start questioning your own actions is indescribable. The conflict that arises out of a disconnect within yourself is powerful enough to rip you apart. Physical pain is excruciating and causes a visceral physical reaction. Extreme mental pain numbs you and washes away all your feeling. You gasp for a second and then sensation fades around you.
Disbelief takes hold of you and slowly gives way to helpless acceptance. You become the constant in a storm of blur. Hopelessness embraces you and leads you gently away. All sense of purpose and meaning vanishes and the very concept of either exists no more. Oblivion incites a sweetness in you and entices you towards it. Nothing is real. Nothing matters. Nobody cares and it means nothing to you even if they did. Life becomes a bitter smile on a face that has nothing to look forward to. And in your head a silent scream echoes continuously begging for help. Nobody listens of course. You dance in the quicksand. Life lives you, the end comes and then you're no more. Maybe you're free. I hope you are.

Note 3
My pretty delusional world is so pretty. It's breathtaking and I feel wonderful in it. Nobody hurts me. Everybody is nice to me. I am loved. I am respected. I am listened to. Isn't my world so nice? My pretty delusional world listens to me and moulds itself accordingly. My world tells me to stay with it all the time. I am not crazy. Maybe I am. But i'm not. Nothing makes sense anymore. I can't bear isolation and i have to live in it. Freedom is everything to me and i have to live like a slave. I am denied my sense of sanity and pushed to have it affirmed by someone who professes to understand me. What kind of an existence is this? Am I selfish to want to escape? Isn't it cruel to expect someone to bear this torture silently? Why is it that the people who "love" me think that my salvation lies in suffering? Why do i have to conform? Why is normality always the benchmark that i am measured against? And why do i never meet this supposedly attainable expectation? Sadness is forbidden and passive rebellion needs to be murdered. I wish i could opt out of life. Is is too much to ask for happiness or try to take some time to find it? Life doesn't stop for you though. I guess i wasn't made for this world. What is the point of writing all of this? It doesn't help. Nothing ever does. The pills are mild ineffective sedatives, the therapy is a joke, and the support is non-existent. A feeling of betrayal is prevalent throughout and is eating me alive. What can you do when the people you trust don't trust you anymore? I don't know. Tough questions with no answers. A waste of a gift. An unavoidable liability. Something that went wrong. Colorful phrases that sum up my life. What a joke. Whatever.