Cold's here, again

All the light is turned off. What appears is a faint shadow of the tree on my window pane, and I can't bear to look at it. Months ago, in a similar time I had written something called Misanthrope looks for Misanthrope. But that's not true. A Misanthrope doesn't look for a Misanthrope. She doesn't look for anyone. A misanthrope is always lost in narcissistic despair. And what scares her/me now is the faint traces of daylight that have entered the sky. Yes, day light scares me. It tells me that though the day is still away, the night has almost come to an end. And if I don't get sleep in the next few minutes, I probably never would. I start counting minutes and this chase inside my mind, puts sleep further away.

The best part about winter is the long nights it brings along. They give better alibis to people who want to hide behind their ownselves. To dream longer, to stay away longer, distant, pretending ignorance and convincing themselves of it. The one other thing about winter is the easy anonymity it brings along. I could just hide under layers of jackets and sweatshirts, pull a scarf over my face and walk down into unknown streets, without the fear of being recognized. But the one fucking thing bad about winter is that it's so fucking cold. It doesn't let me do anything but hibernate, and sink deeper and deeper into my apparently non-existent sorrow.

About what, I don't know. I might just figure it out if I wanted to, I have enough of degrees for that. In my domain, everything almost is supposed to have one logical reasoning. And if it doesn't then well, chuck it. But the issue is that I don't want to. It's quite an oxymoronish thing to say, but may be, just may be, I do not want to be happy. Yeah, that could be it. Because you know, nothing, practically nothing makes me happy for a considerable period of time. And I would rather not fake being happy, it's like faking an orgasm. So let's be sad and let's be me. My foolish pursuit of happyness has been so volatile, and I have been so capricious that sometimes settling for a status quo seems like the more reasonable option.

I never write about beauty. It's been my controversial thing and it freaks me out why haven't I ever written about it here, in the ten million posts I have published since the beginning of time. I always thought, I would be too biased to write about it. Beauty or rather the dearth of it has screwed my entire life up. And that's why I have a lot of bias against it. And I never wrote a word about it fearing that my bias will drip from almost each one of it. But now, I guess things are different. At least, they should be. I am much older, have been through a lot. I have lost some of my bias, some of it yeah. In the process of losing the rest of it. And this cold, this biting fucking cold, makes me want to write my perception of it, beauty hah! So write about it, I will.

7 comments:

nOt anyone you know said...

* A misanthrope is always lost in narcissistic despair.And what scares her/me now is the faint traces of daylight that have entered the sky. Yes, day light scares me. It tells me that though the day is still away, the night has almost come to an end. And if I don't get sleep in the next few minutes, I probably never would. I start counting minutes and this chase inside my mind, puts sleep further away.*

your posts always have this sense of deja vu'. ALWAYS. i can picture myself writing something sad and happy about the rains, something just as oxymoronish.

Soumya said...

Your posts reflect my life, word by word..

Each word you write, each feeling you describe, I've been through it a million times.

I don't know if its a pleasure to know that there is someone else who is going through the same thing as you are, but its weirdly comforting.

Thanks..

Surya Prakash V said...

Recommend "the bell jar" and poetry of Sylvia Plath - brilliant as brilliant can be.

Her shades of grey blend into unrelenting darkness and she seems to stand alone in her brilliance.

I dare say no one made their sorrow look more beautiful than her :)

aria said...

"may be, just may be, I do not want to be happy. Yeah, that could be it. Because you know, nothing, practically nothing makes me happy for a considerable period of time"

I know. Only that, you express it profoundly.
I agree with Soumya's comments.
whenever I read you - am at loss for words coz almost everything written here is sooo 'me'!

wildflower said...

VB
the emotions that visit you when it's cold depend on who you're with..and if you're alone you write like what i've written.. when there's someone for warmth, the case is a different one..

Soumya
It's reassuring and disturbing at the same time for me..to know there have been others who've been thru stuff like this :|

V
I'm a fan of Sylvia Plath myself, so much so that I couldn't bear to read The Bell Jar..

Aria
hmm..we are one of a tribe and our tribe is one of its kind!

Surya Prakash V said...

Felt good, knowing that. Her genius is perhaps how she transformed those that caused her experiences into symbols of brilliant expression with such honesty. She stunned me to silence when I read her. I love a beautiful mind.

wildflower said...

You love a beautiful mind :)