Disillusionment. Disintegration. And then trying to put the broken pieces together. That has been life for me – over the years, I have dreamt rose-tinted dreams, and some rude experience or the other has snapped me out of them. They scruffed me, the experiences – their sharp nails digging into my tender, inexperienced skin and shoved me right back into the stark reality where the blush was replaced by gore and blood.
The stench suffocated me, the shards made me bleed till I would scream in pain – and after a while, I would heal and again, yes again, grope for my pink shades – wanting to dream, to live.
I would cling to people – would let the ‘sorted’ facade slip for a while and give free rein to my emotions, be the madcap I was, laugh raucously, eat uncouthly, dig noses (ew, did you just say?) – they were people who meant the world to me, friends/family – I didn't want to label them – no, they made up my ‘world’ – no tag was enough to describe what they meant to me.
I would cling to goals – my ambitions, ones that are supposed to fetch me money, recognition and the whole crappy lot – the ones that get you noticed. And attention is something everybody likes – and I love it till date, I love it when somebody laps up all the shitty philosophical stuff I dole out, the one that makes me sound all so ‘grown up’!
Goals – I lacked the zeal to make them happen – and so they remained what they were, goals and nothing more!
And now a week of introspection and I realize – time to put away the glasses and look at the world and take it for what it is – where people take to facades and shun rawness – and you can either allow that loneliness to fuck your mind or let it be the oasis to dip your soul in!
Disillusionment complete. Disintegration complete.
Time to cage the madness in, eh?
