I Walk Alone...

Have you ever got the feeling, that you are an apparition among these people around you, that when you look behind you and find a hazy and blurred space which in its entirety niches you, and a small window on the far end siphons whatever social conformity you are managing, the other world, everyone's world, the sanctuary... Wierd relations. Wierder feelings. The pall of exclusivity, not out of ignorance, self evasion or worst of all, condescension. Just the retreatment of yourself in yourself, that you feel at home. Nothing to care about, no barriers, no answers, no questions, no explanations. If its parochialism, then I am one, a racist. A Nazi whose state is self, the Jews are the scorned and hated sophists, who would be Bachau-ed on any obtrusion. Not a megalomaniac, not a recluse, I am, neither am averse of anyone around me. But sometimes feel that the world simply isn't worth it. Bastards evasive to reality, evasive to pragmatic stupor, of their worth, speaking out of turn, out of hierarchy...out of narcissism. Those mindless self assuming bigshots who don't have an ear for sensibility, who plunder humans for undeserving attention and importance, and those 'humans' lacking every bit of empathy and honor are tempted to manufacture a camaderie of stupidity, a congregation of fools, a conglomerate of the miserables. Worthless.
Not that I overlook all the good in the world, not that I am not at the askance of sanity, but the seperateness which is existent is something I revel in, its my fortress. This eternal phase is the love that I have for someone, some story waiting for its characters, where only I am the audience, not that I have any pretentions, any paucity of tolerance in me, that I want the best, I don't even deserve the mundanity... but I am what makes me one, what I am. I am not stating it, not proving a point. Its my world. I would rather be locked in myself than be a part of something, someone, I am a part of me. Just lay bare on the floor where I am one with the nature, the rawness that I am born with. I have tried, literally made myself upto people, made them feel better, made myself a agreement to some hypocrite's definition of a man, a "social animal". A loner, is assumed to be imbued with self doubt and complexities, but people who read this and have known me know the way I am, I defy the defintion. Those people, who have been so falsifying with their worth, with their capabilities, that they flabbergasted me with my efforts, its not sad, its not shameful, its disappointing. People who still stand unto their mirthful lives, which is totally devoid of anything worhwhile. But what has kept me deferring to this social activity is the presence of some very special people who are there not to talk to, not to reflect, not to spend time with they are there to marvel, to appreciate. I learn from them. Which ever path that I may tread, I have the emboldening gifts of their company. But then is the teacher teaching that to learn is to die, that it is something done by dead minds. Yes. my teachers in life taught me to think. I have been considerate to mingle with people's harebrained jingles, and that was not intended to rhyme....anyways. I have got my basics. Basics of purpose, where I am the hunter, the overlord. I do not intend to control anyone. I don't have an agenda, no commitments. I would rather watch this widespread realm of the rat race, stake dimes on those creatures working thier wits out in lust for mere ephemeral comforts and in the process are squandering their swarthy fates. I will commit. I will fight. I will love. I will be hated. But I will say my mind. I wont be there to please people, to squander their senses of their dispositions, to pamper my motives out of them.
Each event shakes my hope, my desperations, to be a desperate, to be the average conformist, the sluggish guy who langurously lives through challenges, I have made an honest effort to behave like an average, mundane being who has his cup of worries, often self inflicted. In my near past, I have been a captive to problems which are second nature to the disposition that I posses. I was a wannabe destitute. I don't loathe people, I am not one frustrated person who has had enough with his spells of success and is now just awaiting death, wasting away in the process. But in this city of the mindless where we all have our goddamned baggages to wad around with. Flummoxed with the simplicities of life, when people scrutinize the eternal, express their ineptitude for a higher living, I chose myself, no group, no organizations. I cry for deliverance. The shackles to which I had the key are stripped, which were to pacify the depressed to revel in finding another excuse for their upsets. And they now adorn those same dilutes as they haste in securing the key with the ferocities comapritive of the devoring hunger for meat ina pond of piranhas, which I toss in their multitudes, and dont even look back at them in their delirium. My pointless quest to unearth the cartographers to this world just ended, or rather given up. There is no one,no one who walks along, no one to look at no one to share with. I walk alone. far away from the madding crowd, of which I was such a involved part of, or so it seemed...

Just a while ago...

I dont know if I should post this, this musing may be a stark interpretaion of any sadism or high dudgeons or whatever that may be in your mind, or may just doom me. But what the hell, is this world worth any concern. I am being myself. I rest assured.