It is painless. But then I think about a lot of people. A lot? No, may be only a few. Akshat was right when he said “ it is better to die young, full of promise, than to live a life of mediocrity”. Shantanu ‘just another guy’ Srivastava is something which is a fact. It doesn’t change even if he knows everything there is to know. In fact, it amplifies, magnifies, and accentuates the suffering many fold. Why the fuck am I not talented like Sachin V. or Akshat G.? Why the fuck am I the only one who lost because destiny didn’t deal him a better hand? I always said to myself that I am a nice guy. Ha! As if I had a choice! Had I been really, really gifted, I would shut myself up for days like Sachin V. and people would still worship me. Had I been talented like Akshat G. , people would wait for me to say something, anything. Then I try to fool myself by saying that I have absolute honesty but then, as I said, I am just trying to fool myself. How many times have I lost? I have lost more than that. I HAVE LOST COUNT. Is there a warm hand to hold?
I am interesting. I am the most interesting man I have ever known. It draws a lot of people towards me. But never, ever, have I felt lonelier than being in the midst of an enthralled audience. They like me. They sometimes miss me. Some people say that they care about me. It is hard to believe. Or maybe I am being melodramatic. Papa was right, I shouldn’t have read Camus, Sartre, Freud, Dostoevsky, Schopenhauer, etc when I was 11. Now, they all have come back to torment me. Listen you stupid fuck, you thought you cracked the code of life? Well, well, wellllllllll……., lets see you figure it all out. And trust me, I can’t. I love someone. She is unattainable. And eventually, she will fall for someone who is more of a man than I am, because I am always in love with one person. Me.
I am destined to be fucked, over and over and over and over and over again, by this, this, vacuum that I have inside me which can never be filled by all the words in Wikipedia, all the theories broken down and analyzed in a matter of seconds, all the witticisms, one upmanship etc. I am the shithole of self love, the epitome of self loathing; I am shit, in its purest form. I am a wasted, fucking life which has no meaning. Fuck, I really think that, when I die, people will remember me for exactly 8 seconds and pull a serious face and will move on to unwrapping their lunch kits to announce to the world, aaj main poori laya/layi hun.
And its not their fault, I am just an anecdote at a party. I am a t shirt quote. I am just a story to be told to drunk friends. I am just an episode, which has no repeats, because, how many times can you put a show on air which has no viewers? I am the lowest form of life. I am nobody. And I knew it all along. And I knew I couldn’t do anything about it. I knew it. And I go through hell every day.
To borrow Arriaga’s famous line from 21 grams, HELL IS RIGHT HERE.
Please forgive me if I suddenly die. But then, I know, I won’t. I am just plain unlucky.
1 comment:
first of all please get over from it...as this is the lowest form of your writing.. well, confusion, confusion everywhere...as I am not very much aware from the situation...but is it war between talent and honesty?or a comparison? or u r just suffering from an emotional atyachaar??well its good to love urself because its an everlasting affair and it also minimises the chances of getting ditched/dumped etc...hahaha but this is something to cheer up urself...reality is cruel and it demands changes...so gear up...maybe its signal from destiny...but what i can gurranty is ur greatest quality...yes ur absolute honesty...this is something which is not found in abundance...this is the reason which makes to keep ur chin up...so carry the torch and enjoy ur dignity.
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