Stigmatized Yet Alive

Life, when segregated has compartments that are either empty or full, maybe some of them still have some space, but mostly they are either empty or full.

The question is how and why? Compartmentalization is something not everyone can achieve. But it is a feat if achieved can lead to a happy and peaceful lifestyle.

Today, at the brink of subjecting myself to the rath of eternity, I ask, where did I go wrong? What did I do to deserve this? What was that point of no return that I passed without even noticing the warnings for my own Doomsday.

Life is like a thought, sometimes it moves so fast that it passes like one and sometimes it lingers like the other. The constant regression of one’s self will certainly lead to a state of nothing.

The panoramic outlook of life lived and the static chatter of the wrong-doing is all that remains before you to either sort or let go.

But how to do that. When a constant reminder of how wrong you have been and how unprodutive you have lived your life, is right there before you, it’s hard to let go and restart.

When wrong, bad, illogical, unjust and liar are the titles that match your being. It’s high time to rethink and illustrate what you are.

When on the verge of wiping what you believe in, rethink and reimagine, did you think of a life like this? Did you think of the stigma that might present itself on every turn and signal?

Would you want to live a life like this? A life that presents itself as walking on fire and walking towards a life where you grasp for every breath and you cry for every bit. A life where you are stigmatized yet alive.

Memoir of a Lost Cause!

The life we live and the life that comes to us, is entirely different, in case even a single step is misdefined. No matter how much you defy or delay it, the inevitable catches up. This inevitability is something that makes us realize that life can run you out of options really fast. One fine day you have everything, a good life, an unshakable support structure and all the goodness in the world, another moment you are struck by the realization that nothing was true.

A step towards something that makes utter sense to you, does contemplate a different entirety for someone else. The quantum of life has an entire proportion of itself dedicated to fucking up things. In other words, life just needs one single reason to change or sabotage everything up by changing one single rule or equation.

Have I lived a wrongful life? Did I do enough to justify myself and my actions? I ask myself this question every day. Some might call me self-righteous and some might call me moonstruck. But does it matter?

The decisions taken in a micro-second, the path I chose to walk upon, had led me to a constant state of regression. It stays with me, the form of a capital punishment that ends for everybody, stays with me and suffocates the life out of me, every day.

Am I living a lost cause? Did I wrong someone or an entire life? Was I this blind to see that the path I walked on was wrong and I kept on walking? Thinking maybe, I am right?

The places I visit, the things I do, the people I speak with and the operations I take care of, are all the things that don’t matter anymore.

God, oh why, I have this hole in my heart, I can’t fill. I cry out to myself, I dry my sins, I think of times, I was right, I was correct. Its all in my heart, the way I start, the things I do, the foes that go(es). Out in the open, I make no sense, though my heart and mind tell me to go on. I cry and fry myself within the said prims of the glory I once had that dissolved in my sins.

..the end of story…

A subject to question, a will to be lost,
the animation of life, ceased by the frost,

A well to dig, a cliff to climb,
every step getting harder, the soul doesn’t rhyme,

I hath oh had the will to carry,
It all made sense, not now, I just worry,

Rene, seeketh, all chaff, no glory,
all just seethe, it’s the end of story…

Alone to Acquit all

Every sense of sanity lost among the vanities of these worldly affairs. The wonders of joy not lasting, though the subject itself is trivial, the coordination of mind and heart shall trespass the certain code. Starting off the line, made a mark, the downfall though faded it away. I mended it from pieces to former glory, only to stop just a step away from it all.

The holders of faith, disinterested, condemning me, making me sigh on my own fate. The gratification I gathered, step-by-step, leading me to the line, where matter doesn’t matter and fate has no volume. Glancing back and realizing the mistakes, the sins of my vanity, I subject myself to oblivion. No absolution, no shelter, every step on the burning sand, alone. Alone in a world where once each corner had an open arm, an open door, a smile of oneness.

Back in time, though not that back, I lost track of how it’s all played, I walked all to shelter, not to condemn, I talked all to sooth and to abate, abate the pain, the soreness and misery. If deeds mattered, if subjects change, I would still be the same. But the tables turned, fate used as prey, I get a death sentence and rest all got away.

Though the mistakes made it worse, I never knew all I deserved was a curse. A constant downfall is not what I sowed, I sure am reaping it from inside a metal road. Nobody for calmness and all to flames, just to claim and to blame.

Left alone for vultures to rip apart, the silent screams of the haunting self, shredding. Dissolving with the constant persecution of thy self, my reality molded and re-told. Retold to be presented and reckoned as deception. Dejected and rejected, I gasp for breath, cowling for composure, chanting for Justice. I rest with a choice, to walk it all alone, alone to acquit all, all from the heat, the misery, and oppression.

The End of Line

A state of thoughtfulness, indulging parity between peers, a constant regression that led me to where sense loses you. Arguing to stay intact, to overcome the diaspora of oneself, makes it all a gloom filled and saturated mask of life, the mask that will never have what’s needed to overcome the constant feeling of despondency. I walk feeling righteous, yet narcissism flowing through my veins. Yes, I feel narcissistic, why? When you catechize your own self, you get to realize your reality that sometimes might not often be visible.

Thousand moments of happiness and a few of despair, thousand things to love and a few not to care. A rigorous and constant abrasion of life, grinding my thoughts and again making me stand where I never wished I be, I am.

The heaviness of the mistakes, the regret of uncompliant moments, unbecoming of my own self, bewitching once, ugly now, me and my reality both lay on the ground, to be judged and to be ripped apart and thrown away. From a cherished one to an abomination, I became a devil in disguise. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, a sanction from hell, I burn where none would heal, I churn where none would yield.

I walk to justify the unforgiving, I walk towards the summation of my life. Cannot find the start of the line, yet cannot contemplate the end, I walk. I walk to let go of everything and to stop any more of the starts. I walk towards the stop that’s full and leads nowhere.