Let’s just get the usual banter of warnings over first. One, if you are here to simply look for the Inktober entry or the photograph entry for WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge, skip to the bottom of the post. Second, if you are a restless reader, like me, and reading some thousand word rants isn’t your cup of tea, you can skip the post. Third, I am just too obsessed with pain and darkness, so do not expect rainbows to shoot out of thin air.
If you’re still reading, then let’s write another chapter into the Diary of a Madman.
My silent friend, do you know that feeling when you feel overwhelmed by listening to someone else recalling their life. I feel so ridiculous right now. I used to believe that I had a bad life. A horrible childhood. Let me tell you, I feel like a snooty little kid who is stubbornly fighting for a candy. My sufferings, they are pathetic compared to the pain I’ve felt by simple association. I cannot possibly imagine the pain she goes through. She. The strongest lady who shared her painful memories with me. I initially wrote shared her pain but then again, I didn’t shared her pain.
We suffer from their sufferings but we do not ease their discomfort. If anything, we increase it. They feel like a waste, knowing that their sufferings are making someone else miserable. Sympathy. That’s the worst word a soul in suffering hears. Life teaches different lessons to each and every one of us.
There is a that feeling, you know, like you’re at the edge of the world, though it doesn’t exist, but you feel as if you are just one step away from dissolving into infinity. A fading nothingness.
What would really happen if you do take one extra step, would all your worries be dissolved or would there be a greater chaos in the aftermath? I never understood the fascination with suicide, atleast not in my young days, but it all seems so blurry now, right from wrong, life from death. All on the edge of the world. A good lie should make you question the truth.
We just got psychologically scarred. Well, I did in that conversation. She had it far worse for a far longer time. I told you this, my dear friend, but I’ll say it again, I’m in awe for you. And I’ll always will be. I do not forget anything. That’s my art of letting go. I hold onto pain.
Married to Agony
Let me share the burden of your words,
Let me share your walk of pain,
Let me be scarred,
For I have my own reasons,
Share your miseries with me,
Share your agony and share your sense.
Maybe we’ll carve a new sense,
A shared sense,
In our limited words.
Should I make it poetic?
Should I say,
The storm of troubled past and
Hurricane of human empathy scarred
And bruised my ever so vulnerable soul?
Would that make my pain less real?
Will the poetry ease or ornate my pain?
No words can soothe them
I’m the sum of all that humanity inflicts on what it creates
Everyone dreads what they can’t understand.
I was torn because I was too perfect.
I was scarred because no blemish marred my beauty.
I was suffocated because my breaths healed the air around me.
I was destroyed because I was a human among demons,
I suffered because I believed
That my love will heal others of their misery.
And so I was broken, destroyed, suffocated.
And yet I stand, yet I breathe,
I’m marred with blemishes,
I’m married to agony,
My word, they left me.
But my unending love,
For those who couldn’t love
What they created, never faded.
I still believe in demonic humanity.
And that poem just made me recall, “The Fine Art of Letting Go.” Definitely one of my best posts.
Now for the official Inktober 2017 entry, today’s prompt was “Sword,” but today, I just had no intention of following any rules. So, I just drew whatever I felt comfortable with. And in addition to one ink sketch, I also ended up drawing a colored abstract sketch, painting, shit, whatever you want to call it.
Now, I could have written another post submitting the entries for WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge, but then, how would I have proved that I am a heretic and I’ll always be? Or maybe I am a self-taught idiot who believes himself to be a genius, who knows? These two photographs were captured on Thursday morning as I was travelling to my lab.
And if you’re still here, my silent friend, you do remember that I have another blog too, right? A blog dedicated to the art of writing. We are almost at the end of our second week. I am proud to say that we have collected some very good articles on two very important question, why do we write and the importance of writing routine. Go check out “The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch,” right now.
If you liked the Inktober entry, do not forget to check out other entries too. I have five more.
Still not satisfied? Well, check out the gallery then. There are more than fifty sketches there.