It has been a while since I made my last post. Well, I thought I had my life all figured out, up until I realized that I was in a worse mess than I had previously imagined or encountered. Perhaps, you do understand what kind of a person I am, or may be you don’t. Nevertheless, it is extremely difficult being me. Every time I say that to another person, some think I am vain, some think that I am being pathetic. The truth however, lies somewhere in the middle. I don’t boast about how difficult it is being me or ask others to pity me because my life is difficult. What I pray they understand is that my emotional and psychological make up is such that I am never here or there. I am cursed to believe staunchly in balance and never being able to achieve it. Consequently, I am always stepping in more than one boat and trying to rescue myself when I start drowning, in problems of my own creation.
Consider for example this blog. I mean what purpose is it really serving. Do people really want to listen to a bloke’s rants about his life choices. It is visibly pointless and a complete waste of time for most readers. People do encourage me to write more, I can’t deny that. However, I don’t think they enjoy reading what I write, for the simple reason that unless one’s rants are backed with a purposeful agenda or scandalous gossip, it does not strike that evasive chord of human connection we all wish to touch. I wish I could write a different sort of blog. Something about law or sports may be. I once thought of writing about sports. However, I ended up becoming really insecure about my career choices and the way I had handled my life thus far. I became the doubtful rebel, rebelling against the society which has no inkling of my rebellion, and doubtful because I never saw the advantage in such frivolous mutiny. The point is, I don’t think I have it in me to write about anything more serious or useful than what I am writing about now.
Several of my rare cheerleaders have encouraged me to write and write and keep writing until I get further up in the world and people start to recognize my immense talent. But that’s just it. What if I don’t have that immense talent that people are patiently trying to recognize. It’s another thing that I don’t have the patience to keep writing until somebody sees some use for my bullshit. People will wait and wait until I prepare my own pyre and light myself on fire. If I am lucky they might rescue in the nick of time. If I am not? Well, fuck people. Self-immolation is a virtue.
I think I blame my parents for my confusion. Well, they are not bad parents. But I just wish they hadn’t raised me the way they did. They taught me to be strong. Then they taught me to be moral. They taught me to be polite. Then they taught me to tell the truth. They taught me to be compassionate. Then they taught me to vie for success. They taught me not to feel entitled all the time. Then they sent me to law school. Well, I think I have inherited my confusion from my parents. (Sorry Papa if you are reading this! You know I mean well.)
The masala here is not that I don’t want money, success, greatness or all the hoopla that comes with them. It’s just that I can’t seem to decide which one I want more and which one of the three should I go for, first. For those in the same boat as I am, have faith dear strangers, have faith in your own destruction, for it is coming soon.