Maybe it’s not necessary for us to have everything we want, no matter how much we push for it sometimes ironically destiny doesn't favor the brave or even the feeble. People around us feed upon our reactions. Why provide those parasites a source of pleasure? Maybe, it’s just us who are wrong. Maybe Hardy was totally right, when he believed that our fate is in the hands of an evil power that never lets us better ourselves. But what about others then? Do they feel the same way, when it comes to them, like we do? Only if they understood, only if they felt what we feel, only if they were able to bring out the best part of us, but aren’t we alike when it comes to understanding? Tempted by our demons, flourished by the lies we feed upon, living our lives as if nothing matters. How far can we go, without the ones we love, without the things we love and without the theories we believe? What about those regrets we reminisce when we look back in time and see how we have messed up our lives.
Suddenly, they whisper in our ear “mark my words, lies are everywhere, refine your search and nurture your site through discrete optimism or not”, could it possibly be true? What they said, what they whispered instead. Could it harm our ego? What if we were able to love forever and what if we weren’t? What if we taught someone how to love and what if we taught someone how to live?
Learning that you’re different from others is easy but realizing it is an uphill task. When losing the ones we love or the ones that loved us once, a thought strikes the key note of the plot of our life, we discover that all we went through was for nothing but disenchantment. We hear them once again, “You’ve lost the war. Who cares? Prepare for the battle”. What if we were unable to fight the battle, what if we had already lost everything a long time ago? What if the spell has been caste already?
But then again loyalty is repaid with disillusionment too, isn’t it? Turning back the pages to the draft pad of our conscience, there exist those differences which we created. This strangeness itself is bizarre, the demons laugh, oh well! Maybe it’s just the way we were socially conditioned when being socialized. We pause, continue and then pause again. Trying to figure out every fucking time we confront damage, maybe the hatred has been injected by our own loved ones, deep under the skin right into our bones.
The guards are up, we can’t let anyone in now can we? Weren’t those three wonderful days better then the regretful life we’re having now, acting strong, being tough, hurting more and more as life brings us closer to realities, avenging people, killing feelings and making others believe that we are worth nothing but gnawing ginger. The answer to the entire smoldering thought of ours wouldn’t result in an ecstasy rather it’s better when left unchecked. They didn’t say “fail and forget” they said “fail and revise”, which is why we leave the thought to flourish for a little bit linger, to seek an answer which would satisfy our soul someday, when figured.