Visiting The Forsaken Territory

Its been a long time since I have written with anger. Today I am angry and now as I write this, I am angry. I am angry with too many and as I always, keep reminding myself that, “someone who angers you, conquers you” and today, now, I stand conquered and incomplete acceptance.

The kind of thing that one gets angry about is the essence, the killer, the vulnerability and I have not learnt yet to deal with it. The cause being the result of the effect, the conditional boxes trying to contain me again, yet again, is the cause.

What started since yesterday being told that I should score people less in the tests, followed with people telling me what clothes I look better in expecting to dress up for their expectation, followed by people trying to tell me what to speak and what not to and all that BULLSHIT… by now I am fed up and have learnt from the past that once you let someone tell you what to be, you lose yourself, your own being and this is something that I do not want to go through at the moment. Have traveled well enough and have taken these paths that appear before me and have hated these patterns, refuted it and have lived sans guilt for a long… quite happily, for a very long time since. I hate these conditional boxes and if people want me to fit into one, they might themselves fit into that filth without bothering me. I am complacent and I hate being checked upon. Now people try as they try with other mortals… forgetting the fact that I was neither born yesterday nor do I consider them anything more than nothing.

I hate it when someone tells me what to do. Once again I have always done what is said to be never done and have always quite confidently and deliberately rebelled to break these conditional boxes and now, this audacity by people to imply boxes around me?! Surprising! Quite surprising!

Who the hvjkadha are these creatures to disturb my peace? Wish this was the good old days in the wild wild west when momentary anger can be vented and justice met then and there. I am sure I would have taken a few down or atleast died than lose my liberty, than let people contain me in these conditional boxes. I hate these conditional boxes. It has taken me so many years to reach this stage of complacency. Managed to free myself from many strangling conflicts, so many decisions that had to be taken, so many rules that were broken, so many effortless decisions, so many thoughtless thoughts, so many rebellious encounters and so so much… yet they want me to lose all this? In moments?! Just like that?! What the lkjdap;f? This is not it. This is simply not it. I hate these conditional boxes.

Nothing has contained me and no one ever has nor ever will. Now then, why expect? Who the jhahfoa do they think they are to tell me what to do? Who the nhdfjosgosdjgl do they think they lkashflhqlkf are? Nothing. Nothing at all according to me. What makes them think that I care a rats arse about who the bloody ,dgfaf they are? I don’t. or do I? I really don’t. they can go and live their bloody miserable hajlhfdwq up life and I care less. Have I given them undue attention and importance that they feel that now they can pontificate? No. I seriously don’t respect humans. No not at all. If they think that I do, I am sorry, I have disappointed you and happy that I have. Agjdq you all!

Infact, I despise you all who live with one squinted eye bothered about the world supposedly watching you and another on your miserable self entitled to life long guilt trips. I think you live your ljahfa life and let me live mine and I don’t want to belong to your group. Why pull me in? Why even try? I hate these condition boxes and I don’t want to be there where you can take your already rotting arses and screw yourself there.

Bottomline: Never let people tell you how good you are as they soon have the power to tell you how bad you are too.

The Path So Far...

Coming from a small town I grew up seeing the same people grow old everyday. The traditions, customs, culture and values people make, which often makes people into who they are was installed in me way back then during those formative years I regretfully feel. Whether I regret for it now doesn’t matter; having developed an almost instinct with which I react rather than respond to what happens in my present environment which questions my every thought and move.

Strong, stringent and compulsory mores, morale, and code of conduct I did know and I did adhere to then; more for acceptance than for attention. Everything everyone said seemed to be acceptable and undeniably true with my vulnerability taking a drive on the front seat. Assurance was on the high. All that I had to do to be good enough was to adhere. Adhere to those little conditional acceptance people render us with. Yet what is good enough? And who decides and who lets them? These are questions for which we already have the answer and yet re-question like futile idiots in the pretext of having an intellectual coffee-table conversation.

Isn’t it we who submit ourselves to the markings of others to recheck our position? Doesn’t it bother us when someone condemns us? Don’t we feel guilty when we breach a code of conduct?

This was the situation that seemed like a long time ago, until recently. The day I came out of this place I considered as figurative as it might seem a narrow, mean strip of land urging people to fit into its conditional boxes laid on the dead weight of the people who must have made them, I saw changes. Changes that offered me choices that often shook me, making me feel a misfit in many occasions in various environments. Often to grace the occasion there was a compulsive demand on me to relax, test and let go those values I held close like a lump of dirty piece of clothing tied together in order to wear the tuxedos the elite crowd offered. What surprised me was how different the elite world is in different parts of the world. Values were lost in arrogance rather than ignorance. Many times it was a willful challenge that I endured. Brutality persisted as I had to ignore the guilt in trespassing into the land I was always warned never to enter.

Today I look back and feel that I can be marked a total misfit by the society I came from sans guilt from my side as I stand without any defense or rather a need for one with every turn I took as I tried to test myself in the world of challenges, to be more precise the test of values, encores deeming everything I did in the process either immoral or illegal.

Though I must still confess that values haunt me today like midnight's ghost, as I look back like a child whose candy has just fallen on the sand, quite sad it is to know that I stand belonging to neither world; not to the carefully screening world that made me neither to the scornfully scrutinizing world that challenges. Every step I took in the adopted world in the urban jungle was a fight-a fight for survival I must say. Every step I took was a step closer to criticism and condemn. Often commented and rather compelled to leave behind the values in the same dingy place I came from. In this exalted my performance to find my point of display in every given situation with my constant tryst with nature and nurture. Called to please my audience, a pretender I turned out to be hiding behind masks and more masks and more and more masks-till I could recognize my face no more.

Civility is as cruel as barbarism; the tender line we walk in between them as we take a stand on our way wanting to do something and the way we are expected to do it decides who we are. And often we end up cheating our instinct with compulsive forces acting on our behalf, directing and drawing us to curtail ourselves to packages in which the rest of the world can perceive us to fit into with due respect to their limited knowledge or need to know who we are.

Skin and identity politics and confluence of intellectual risings that erupt as for discussions and self-reflection in the dark alleys in the get-away dens in the lost, inebriated urban world amidst an arbitrating, margarita and scotch-sipping, hookah-smoking crowd of power-seeking mongrels, same as I, further questioned me in different thresholds of chronic dissatisfaction and suburban drudgery, giving reality checks in willful checkpoints I rolled into; only to understand that as one spreads across into a wider space, one gets tiny and feels a sense of belonging to the place from where one took wings; eventually to feel like dropping down dead while soaring high on realizing the fact that having taken off, the identity I seek is already lost in the same place where I seek it in. Values that made me that I questioned, questioned me when I thought I made myself into something beyond it. Hahaha!... Stood I there questioned and questionable… unpardoned by me more than anyone else.

Bottomline: "Trying to be an open book knowing for sure that even an open book opens up to only two pages"-Own