A Self-Inflicted Loss

Source: vector-eps.com

Source: vector-eps.com

It happened to me again.

All over again, deja vu. History repeating itself.

Just when I thought I had learned all my lessons. Just when I thought that it would never happen to me again, it just did.

No, it wasn’t an accident. Or maybe it was. But it was certainly my own doing. My own fault.

I shattered my world with my own hands.

I did this to myself. A self-inflicted wound.

A self-inflicted loss.

I am the architect of my own misery.

With false pride, anger, hubris, decadent complacency and impulsive misery,

I have broken the glass of my memories, while I could have saved it, while planning to save it, and nothing can put it back together now.

All I have now is regret. Regret, and false solace.

A suspended consciousness.

I’m helpless, longing for somebody to help me… though I know no one can.

At least somebody to reach out to. Though with never the right answers.

There is no right answer.

I’m helpless, but not regretting existence, or probably doing so.

I know nothing is more precious than life, and love of the loved ones.

Nothing is more important.

 

That’s what keeps you going, to let you fight another day.

To let you live another way.

 

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The Mood to Talk

Source: Gary Busey/NBC/blogna.tv

Source: Gary Busey/NBC/blogna.tv

Someone starting to talk to you about something of your interest is like an appetizer really.

Baiting to make you want to go for more.

But then sometimes they withdraw, or have to.

I know this would sound ridiculous to a lot of people, but it is like coitus interruptus, or someone denying you orgasm after stimulation. Or perhaps leaving you with that terrible urge that chain smokers feel when they have not smoked for a while.

Why would stimulating your brain be any different to stimulating your genitals? Also, why does touching or manipulating your genitals get so much attention and doing the same to your brain does not even get a mention?

It’s just there is no apparent release point of this energy, depending on what kind of energy you are dealing with here.

I know not everyone may have the energy to keep up with the discussion, but this is how it works for some.

I would not mind passing out with an overdose at the end of the day, if you ask me.

But someone rightly pointed out to me.

Wouldn’t it kill the very purpose?

Death as Tooth Decay

Source: topnews.ae

Every step we take is a step towards death. We long for it.

Every little action, every biochemical reaction, every poison we take in, every word we speak and get to hear in response to it, contributes to our ultimate, impending demise.

Have you ever wondered what dying and death would feel like?

As a matter of fact, nature has given us several clues into that. In terms of consciously perceiving it.

Forget about seeing the other person die. That is simply too distant for a physical being to experience death, despite the emotional pain.

But after observing the decaying death of a couple of my own teeth, it struck me with how analogous it was to death itself.

It is, apart from the skin, one of the few organs in the human body that dies within the normal course of a human life. That is, excluding accidents and more horrendous injuries from the possibilities.

The way the root hurts and the way it is taken care of is a great example of the transition from life to death.

And surely it is the transition that must hurt the most.

As Woody Allen said, I am not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it’s happening.

Well that precisely elaborates the inescapable predicament.

Life is precious, yes, but the act of dying seems to be the very inseparable part of it.

Dying almost seems like a function of life.

And hardly any other occurrence within our bodies exemplifies it better than tooth decay and extraction.

The ultimate tension, the electric shocks, the soul wrenching pull, when the tooth is pulled out and the ultimate peace and void when it is gone.

Or a tooth can even hang between life and death, even perpetually. Or at least for a very long time.

I don’t know about it and I can’t be sure, but I can tell that it must be representative of a life condition as well.

Or perhaps it is representative of the very condition that our lives are in. You know, the state of somewhere hanging between our lives and deaths.

With our souls longing to be somewhere else than the body, or so it seems. Or perhaps our bodily chemicals hating what we are doing to ourselves or are made to do to ourselves.

A tooth is like a tiny version of ourselves, the one we hardly know or feel, and the one which we can even afford to live without. Which dies away without leaving a trace, and which is replaceable, at least in its function, with a prosthetic replica.

I am not even sure if we can replace people with a prosthetic replica. We do, but not the people we love.

Just the people we need and can never meet or have.

All the Lonely People….

Charlton Heston once said, “The internet is for the lonely people…”

The very first time when I read those words, I was astounded at the discernment of the old man.

In fact, I wonder if this tool, which the lonely people use to hide the saddest fact of their lives, is even creating more loneliness. The question to ask is whether those who were not lonely, have isolated themselves from their world or not due to the introduction of this new dimension in their lives.

I still strongly believe that many people prefer the old-fashioned ways to communicate than the modern technology such as internet and social networking, although they may not be as hip. The only benefit to technology in communication is that it can bridge physical distances. But what about emotional distances?

The best way to communicate is to speak face to face, or even more than that, if you know what I mean. And there is simply no substitute to the human touch, the cure of the human misery, depression and loneliness.

We are hiding behind our elaborate modes of communication.

We don’t reach out. Or feel too frightened to. Something that malfunctions our minds.

We should not complain about how miserable our lives are then.