Only questions.

What gives a person the right to act superior to another? What gives them the right to act so selfishly that they wouldn’t think twice before stepping on shoulders to get forward? What gives them the right to cause endless hurt just because they’re hurt themselves?

Why do we have laws that protect such people and such behaviour? Why do we allow this superficial behaviour to exist and there’s not one thing anyone can do about it? Why build structures and regimes that empower these people who don’t have the right to be in power? Why have no accountability for actions? Why have no remorse and penance after walking away from destruction? Why do we turn so dead inside, we might as well be plastic? Why is there no just punishment for actions that cause harm and hurt? Why is there no payback without consequences? Why not say something to my face rather than hide behind a cowardly keyboard? Why not face the music? Why hide behind your false illusions of power and security?

Why are there so many questions? Why aren’t there any answers?

Towers and pedestals

It’s an image I created.
An illusion I built.
Spend enough time
And it diminishes like silt.

I built every tall tower
And placed you right on top.
And they kept getting higher
The limits just won’t stop.

And in the end it was all fake
A game I played with myself
Building blocks and monuments
To worship her majesty, herself.

The higher you got, the deeper I fell
Till the time I became invisible.
You couldn’t see me far below
Admiring you from beneath your pedestal.

Lipstick and cigarettes

The drunken haze of last night washed over me repeatedly. Like waves at high tide. Surrounding me. Drowning me.

Gasping for air I breathed myself back to life. The haze continued. Memory failed me. I recalled nothing except my sense of regret. The whiskey glasses sat right where we left them, half drunk. The cigarettes lounged around the ash tray, discarded in haste, caressed with the touch of your lips with light lipstick stains.

You were nowhere to be seen. My clothes strewn about but yours nowhere to be found. The front door was unlocked. A small note lay on the kitchen counter top. You were gone. All that was left of you were the lipstick stained cigarettes.

Romantic movies

I like watching romantic movies. I don’t know what kind of an impression it makes but it is what it is.

It’s only in a romantic movie that the guy and the girl overcome all odds and find a way to be with each other. Life has different rules there. Careers don’t come into play. They can just abandon everything and drive off into the sunset. The past doesn’t matter. Because by the end of the movie, the guy wins her over after making her realise its time to move on. life doesn’t get in the way. A road is carved out of nothing and all they have to do is walk that path.

People hate such movies. They say it doesn’t show the truth. Who would want the truth? Who wants to watch more lying, cheating, backstabbing and gut wrenching heartbreaks? I’d rather watch these two come together and find a way to be with each other. It’s the only place left where love has a chance to blossom, even if it is scripted. A place where things actually go according to plan and good things happen. A place where true happiness exists.

There’s none of that here in the real world. We won’t let it breathe.

Loving you

Loving you
is who I am.
It’s what I do.
It’s a part of me.
It defines me.
It’s a disease
I live with.
An unforgiving curse.
Relentless and infinite.
Spanning vast horizons
Of my mind.

Lowered expectations

I find that people generally tend to disappoint. But if you expect them to disappoint, they do quite well. So what needs to change? People? Or our expectations?

The path to happiness is following an expectation vs time curve where time tends to infinity and expectation tends towards zero. Lower the expectations, the happier you’ll be. And the sooner you reach that lower threshold limit of expectations, the sooner you’ll be happier. However, if you expect to be happier, you aren’t really following the curve are you? So I think we need a third axis which tends towards increasing magnitude of happiness. Now that is a variable and tends to fluctuate based on a wide variety of factors. Some days you just wake up wanting to superman punch someone in the face. No reason for it. No explanations. Sometimes our hormones create an imbalance. But I suppose that’s expected. So if you expect the unexpected you rule out the unpredictability of it all. Like a double negative.

So the curve now marks you on the time vs expectation vs happiness scale. Time doesn’t stop so it keeps on going. And we know from before that lower expectations equals more happiness. But we have also learnt that happiness is a variable and can’t be predicted. Now, how do you tame a variable? By throwing it into situations where the outcome can be predicted. For instance, alcohol makes me happy. However there’s a point of no return with alcohol where happiness suddenly turns the other way and leads to regret and bodily malfunction. people can make you happy too but only if you don’t expect it.

So, in conclusion, you expect the unexpected with yourself and you don’t expect anything from others. I suppose it all boils down to your own expectation of the world and figuring out how to deal with your variables. There’s something here. Needs more research. I might be on the cusp of a breakthrough. Maybe even a Nobel prize.

End of session. Returning brain function to normal.

Dream #2

She got into a fight with another car on the road. She was driving and someone had crashed into her after jumping a red light. Me and another male friend were accompanying her. We protected her against the particularly unruly demeanour of the other guy. Eventually we left the scene with plenty of onlookers still gathered for amusement.

We reached a club. She was walking ahead with her friend. They rushed inside while I was still climbing the stairs. The music grew louder. The air grew thick with repugnant cigarette smoke, sweat and alcohol. It was way too loud now. Too loud to even hear my own thoughts. I reached the doorway. Flashing lights inside, people dancing, drunken laughter. I looked one way, then the other. I couldn’t see her anywhere. She waved at me from a distance and I caught a glimpse of her wrist tattoo. She beckoned me to come and join her. But she was already too far. And she had her friends around. I never really fit in with her crowd. And I always became invisible in the presence of other company. I signalled that I was fine right here. She turned and went back to her group. Still standing, I looked one way, then the other. Alone in a crowd, I thought to myself. As always.

Dream #1

I landed in the Ulsan district of South Korea after catching a flight from Seoul. It was mostly uneventful, the inflight entertainment was mediocre to say the least. The food wasn’t something I’d voluntarily eat. Had a constant battle for arm rest occupation with this determined old Korean lady. I kept nodding off and my head bobbed vehemently waking my up each time. What else is a person supposed to do on planes? I like how I can fall asleep multiple times on a plane but I struggle to catch a good sleep when I’m on the ground.

It was snowing outside and I hadn’t prepared for it as always. I’m a terrible packer and I always miss out in things I eventually need because I pack light. I wrapped myself in whatever warm clothes I had summoned. I hadn’t booked myself a hotel either. I figured I’ll stay with her once I find her. She had flown in from America and this was the closest she would be to home in a long long time. I didn’t think twice and hopped on a plane to come and see her. This was my only chance. She had left some instructions about where she would be staying.

I walked, shivering in the snow, watching a kitty make tiny paw prints. I was now starving and had no idea where I was. I fired up my maps app and it pointed me towards a building. When I reached nearby, the direction of the arrow pointed upwards. Too cold and tired to question this, I began climbing the wall and reached the tiled roof of the ground floor apartment. There was a smaller structure built on top and I went inside searching for some food after making sure there was no one inside. The air was saturated with the aroma of chicken soup. Oh I would kill for some soup, if I could find it. But I couldn’t. I looked everywhere.

A door opened and I hid behind the counter. A man walked in with his friend. Both had their hands full of provisions and they got to work. One man lit the burner but it wasn’t a regular burner. It gave off an orange flame. The burner then started rotating and the flame turned blue. He placed a wok on the burner and got to work. That’s when they saw me.

I explained what was going on and lucky for me they understood English. They offered me their food while I told them my story. “Have to be there when your friends come to visit, right?” She was more than a friend. I had a special corner reserved for her in my heart. I wanted to see her again. But I was lost. The other two merely nodded their head and ate their soup.