Mid November slumber talk

Nights. Sleepless nights! Dear lord. I hate sleepless nights. I love sleep. It’s temporary death, right? The sleep. The dear dear sleep. Helps you forget your troubles, trials and sufferings (if any) or quite simply aids in lightening your dark circles.

Imagine. Having spent better part of the day out of home, meeting people (I hate most people, they are either pretentious or are social climbers or simply fools who think their own family doesn’t matter but people with better stature do and they gotta get em all goodies. They aren’t really divided into these different schisms. They fall under the same category of being totally unbearable). Do I sound resentful? No. I am just tired.

Imagine if you could just be yourself anywhere and everywhere. Right, that sounds like the non existent utopian world. An ideal. An aspiration. And when I think of all this nonsense, I lose sleep. My darling sleep. Damn. This is a disease I got off of someone who is the most depressed, darkest soul I have had the misfortune to meet. I feel bad for that person. Let’s call the person ‘A’. I did try to help. But gosh. No one can help A. And I think A secretly likes being Dramebaz nautanki who thinks it is going to die by committing suicide. I could have lived my whole life without knowing that. Thanks!

I should have asked if I should write an elegy for it right then and there. Damn. I got sucked into it’s drama. A’s got the perfect life, by the way, trust me. And yet, all it wants to do is cry and mope around as if it is dying. Bah. So annoying. Why can’t it just be happy? How difficult is that? And when someone else is happy, it wants to suck the happiness out of that person. Why can’t you be happy? Just be happy. You’ll like it. If you don’t, it will grow on you. Bloody hell.

Anyway, why is it taking centre stage in my blog post? This is where I feel like killing it. Screwed with my mind, you, you (insert mad rumblings of brain in incoherent language).

See. This is what happens. I think and I think. And I think. And I think some more. And these stupid loops keep forming in my brain. And they go on forever. And I don’t understand why I need everyone to be happy around me. It’s stupid. I mean let fellows wallow in their grief. Why should I let it affect me? But no. No no no no no. I need to go and be their sunshine. Well, not exactly their sunshine. But I have this urge to make them happy. Seriously, why? I don’t owe it to anyone. I don’t. One of these days I am going to join some NGO. I still think I should go to a shrink and ask him what issues I have that I can’t be happy unless I make at least one person happy.

But tell me, why can’t I be a self centred, narcissist biatch of first order? They all seem to prosper. See I love Mark Twain. He gets my angst. For him good books, good friends and a sleepy conscience is the ideal life. It is. Indeed. So it is 3.57 and I have been awake the whole night. But you wouldn’t know that because I have set this post to be published on a later day at a later time.

So anyway, here’s wishing you a happy mid November. Be happy. And despite all the venting, it is nice to make people happy. So go do that. Not strangers, that be creepy. Mwahahaha. Ciao.


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