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Everyday I stream myself,my most public self to humanity thinking that they would care. In moments of excruciating pain, I look into a mirror, filled with tears, with blood running dry out of the wounds , i smile. During those moments, i frequently stumbled upon the endearing realisation, that, even I don’t care. I cried without sounds and broke myself out of the mirror, decided to kill myself and then laughed a lot.
I decided to kill the entire world.
The mistake is to live, to stay passive to this world.We stopped holding hands,we stopped crying, we stopped sleeping on each other’s lap,we stopped looking into each other’s eyes,we are creators who missed the point of creations,we do things simply because we can and yet we do things toprove there’s always a point. We forgot to walk slowly along the stoic passage of time,we are stagnant,we are somewhere when here,now we are trapped by yesterday.We don’t exist,only you,me and others exist.
Everyday I wake up to look into live screens or dancing letters of a book and then subside onto my bed to have thoughts about everything.The everything includes somethings that I know and somethings that I have never seen or understood,and then smile at the very meaning of meaning itself. Alas,what a life I have, I would welcome myself to the world of meaning or in other words,the world of nothingness. I would play a scene with my thoughts, we will be looking into our eyes, smile at each other,finally we will try to convince where we are and the meaning of existence. I would strongly oppose the definition of self,existence and thoughts, then the alarm would remind me that its 7 am in the morning and I would doze off from world of thoughts since its time to embark to the life of living beings. Welcome to the story of nothingness or the story of everyday man who has the luxury to think.
Roses roses, will you fall,
Crumble upon the weight of the winter
Screaming and screeching away from the dead
For it will weep and tear us
Into the valhalla, meet with us
Feast and mourn for our lost self
Spend our life in stories of vain o slain
Yet I am here, to ask you
Roses roses will you fall?
In the dwindling wind, I teared myself up
To watch the world crystal clear, Blurred,yet the aberrations
Oh so meaningless in its charm and change
Sounds less and sun dead,
I walked the aisle with no hands to hold
For in the dwindling wind, there is no I or We
There is only wind.
I am a living being, I am a mammal, I am a human being, I am cognitive, I am Indian – the effort to project our identity to collective forms seems to be a basic feature of our survival. The collectivism promoted by the social setup or individualism supported and nurtured by certain societies , the society seems to have some sort of collective identity in terms of religion,race,color or some attribute based on which we form collective identities.
It might be a natural decision of an evolutionary species to keep in check the radical growth of disorder in our society thereby keeping in control the predictability associated with our system.
The identities ,the crisis associated with identities, and friction between various collective identities can create various different patterns of human society.This is observed by an individual when he plays his role in a group.
The collective identities can provide an individual some kind of role which will allow him to perceive an end to journey. A kind of elegant full-stop to a poignant poem and falling for the pit is every poet’s dream.
The ever-changing role and identities in an individual can bring about radical changes in one’s behaviour .