I believe I have lost the will to write. I would go so far as to say that I have lost my voice altogether. I don’t know how I have found the strength to start writing again. You see, I am one of those people who suffer from the intermittence disorder. It’s not a really a medically recognized disease, but it’s a real pain in my ass. Well, for all I know, it might be nothing at all; maybe just a figment sparked by my post-social delirium (post-social referring to the state of immense listlessness and unbearable boredom coupled with thoughts of bloody suicide or at least a shooting spree at workplace). So what I mean is that I suffer from the ailment of being inconsistent, non-committal and frequently fickle, whether it be a matter pertaining to my relationships, my career, even my psycho-sexual tendencies. What I am saying really is that I can’t decide which way to go; if I decide which way to go, I will probably change my mind immediately after I start upon the chosen path. In essence, I am what they call in colloquial idiom, a grade A “fuck up”. Well, not to worry, you are no better either or at least I hope you aren’t.

If you were clever enough to notice, you would have observed how I wasn’t even able to stick to one idea, one thought in the preceding paragraph. I started with how I have lost my voice and ended up shoveling some shit about being inconsistent. Ironical much? Well anyway, let me admit. This is not about losing my voice. I haven’t lost my voice. I had just convinced myself that I was a better writer than I actually am. However, after spending some time with fellow beings, I realized that I am not as good as I think I am and probably not even good enough to call myself a writer. Yeah! Yeah! I know, I know. I must believe in myself. I must think so that I can become. But at some point of time, you gotta realize that nihilism is not merely an ideology, it is actually the truth about who we are, in this world and in our life time. And we aren’t much, to be fair. We are petty and we lack talent. Boo fucking Hoo! Sorry to burst your bubble, but if you are reading this and think it is the shizz, you probably won’t amount to much in life. You are probably worse off than me. Your existence therefore, is dispensable. But I digress. This is my introspection, not yours. You would probably die if you had one. I am having mini heart attacks myself. But that may also be because I am like really fat and I am typing too fast (those of you who laughed at my self-deprecating joke, suffer from the Oedipus complex and probably don’t know what that means).

Where are my literary manners? I am all over the frigging place. But who gives a flying fuck? (I am sorry Papa if you are reading this. I believe I am abusing too much. But I think you wouldn’t mind). So to sum it up, I am not too sure why I started talking about whatever it is I was talking about. Let’s just say that I am not too keen on being where I am right now and as a result, I am pained enough to write this baloney. Adios! Whatever…

P.S.- Those prissy little fuckers who are nitpicking my grammar and my sentence formation- you know who you are…Yeah you do.

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