We are not normal.
Its not easy. Its wrong, frightening.
There is nothing fashionable, elite or even distinctive about it.
Its rather an impediment. An underdevelopment. An incapacity. An underdog.
About not fitting in. About living in your own fucking world and your unctuous soliloquies.
About constantly impregnating, processing and indulging in notions that seem so grand and beautiful when you are to yourself, but are absurd in confederation with things and instances outside you… absurd even to you.
About hatching values that don’t hold good outside and don’t realize. And you wait, taking foolish pride in your martyrdom, your suffering, considering your pain exclusive and aristocratic, enjoying it.
About reveling in a cosm that you cant translate to the person next to you, to groups of people you meet, to things, to life.
About finding it incomprehensible and alien, what the rest of your species finds normal everyday things.
About not being atleast ‘the other kind’, but just ‘not of the kind’.
Don’t even think you are special. Gone are the days of ‘special people’. You can’t be special when there are a million more reprobates like you. ‘Specialty’ stands out. You are doomed to oblivion.
U see… u aren’t making a difference… not to the world, not to you.
Perennially, and ultimately being condemned to silent, strict loneliness.
Its not easy. Its wrong, frightening.
There is nothing fashionable, elite or even distinctive about it.
Its rather an impediment. An underdevelopment. An incapacity. An underdog.
About not fitting in. About living in your own fucking world and your unctuous soliloquies.
About constantly impregnating, processing and indulging in notions that seem so grand and beautiful when you are to yourself, but are absurd in confederation with things and instances outside you… absurd even to you.
About hatching values that don’t hold good outside and don’t realize. And you wait, taking foolish pride in your martyrdom, your suffering, considering your pain exclusive and aristocratic, enjoying it.
About reveling in a cosm that you cant translate to the person next to you, to groups of people you meet, to things, to life.
About finding it incomprehensible and alien, what the rest of your species finds normal everyday things.
About not being atleast ‘the other kind’, but just ‘not of the kind’.
Don’t even think you are special. Gone are the days of ‘special people’. You can’t be special when there are a million more reprobates like you. ‘Specialty’ stands out. You are doomed to oblivion.
U see… u aren’t making a difference… not to the world, not to you.
Perennially, and ultimately being condemned to silent, strict loneliness.
2 comments:
I like this post.....looks like a "REALITY CHECK". By the loneliness isn't as bad as it sounds. Sometimes being alone is very insightful.
i dint mean it like a reality check i guess...
probably, just looking from the other side at something i still hold dear...
anyway.. i like it that u like it :)
(ur on blogspot!?!?)
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