Freedom from Freedom

I always had done things in my own way crushing the hopes of my dear ones. "I" am the only most important one to me. Though I generally hate myself, there is that unabated and probably extending love for myself deep within. It has grown up like a mountain and now I am not able to perceive anything beyond me. It has become a block that broke the transparency between you and me. I need a guide for sometimes I doubt my little rascal for the highs and lows it takes me to. Enough of the play! I'm tired and need some rest. So I seek that guide who would probably set the child in me to its discipline. But then it pains me to prefer the guide to my rascal, who is no one but me. I am suffering from narcissism. I know my disease but not the medication except that utter humiliation I shall be put into. This is the problem of having excessive freedom but I am scared to give up my freedom, which had come so easy from my family. That is why, I keep postponing the task of relinquishing my freedom to an uncertain amount of time. This time, vexed with me, somebody set the clock for me. A month from today! Probably, I am going to be a puppet. See, what a fool am I? I thought of making you my puppets and you turned me one even before I am on my job.

A month to live, as I want to. I'll be freaky and will be doing things one on another, for I don't have much time to waste on the formalities. I am in hurry and please run along with me if you care a piece of me.

Con Game

Why this fistful of heart never gets ashamed of it's mischief? It's a rascal. Though I order it not to move about for it is sick and bruised, it would slip through quietly limping on the sly. It tells me bunch of extrapolations and exaggerations of truth and would force me to believe them till I give in. Finally, I give in for I, myself can't do otherwise. Yes, I'll be happy but soon I see you all from no-where. I see Hamlet in each of you. I see Santhi, Rakesh, Praveen, Cnu, Sowmya and even Anna. I am scared to see you sighing at me in rage "Frailty, thy name is woman!" I hide my face and would hurriedly look for that little rascal who put me to this humiliation. But it is not again in it's place. I mumble to it peeping through myself "I plead you to come forward. I am not here to punish you. This time, I beg you to play your tricks and tell me all your sweet and absurd stories to save me from this moment of disparage. Please do stand by me.. my sweet little thing. I lack the courage, of which you have plentiful." But it leaves me to my misery without an answer.

Drowning...

I keep up my insanity irritating the people around for no reason as if I have a long-lasting grudge on them to be unloaded. Every time I do something to them, I suffer acutely, but then.. they too would suffer and that is a sheer pleasure to me and it would even out-balance my suffering. I love to see them notice that I am not just nothing, but could inflict them in the worst way and spoil their day if I want. I know, I am falling down morally but I don't care, if it can give me the pleasure of suffering.

In-spite of all this, life has suddenly become interesting and I curiously watch it every moment with my chin in the hands. I think, I am dangerously in hope. Perhaps, I'm hoping on this hope like that Dostoevsky's drowning man clutched at a straw thinking it to be the branch of a tree. :)