No, This Is Not a Writer’s Block

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they ask themselves – where is the end of the road? Or…what is the road??…I think I am dealing with that moronic stupidity called Quarter life crisis…(someone told me that you could sum up all your problems in that one single term…’Quarter Life Crisis’)…

My forehead is loosing hair…I am scared to comb my hair these days because I get to see my bald pate whenever I do it and its horrendous for my eyes…

..I had a verbal argumentative fight with someone’s mother and father where the mother declared that it was someone else’s fault that someone got rejected twice from somewhere and it was not their fault that that someone became what someone would be afraid to become…so mother knew all about it…father also knew about it… that whatever someone thought life is, it’s definitely not like that.

..I have almost failed in every attempt.. and now I am failing to make attempts as well. I am scared or lazy or both.. to make an effort. It feels like a time wrap, plot of an ugly sci-fi movie, where the protagonist is stuck in this loop, he could try doing different things but the beginning, the end and the middle, always stay the same. Its like half of your lower part of the body stuck in the quicksand, the moment you try to move your legs, sand sucks you a little bit more, all you can do is look up at the sky, smell the sand and hear all the noises, you can shout as much as you want but your voice knows, your eyes knows, even those strange noises also know that nobody is coming to pull you out of that slow-sand which has been ironically termed as ‘Quick-sand’.

…I used to run sometimes but now running scares me. Running used to make me reach places but now reaching places scares my soul, ‘it’ asks me “what are you going to do when you reach there??” I tell ‘it’ that its good for the muscles of my legs..’it’ just grins and say something like – “Running with shackles on, makes a lot of noise and noises disturb the dogs on the sidewalks”

..Off late I have started thinking like normal people who are scared of loosing other people’s attention, scared of being left out, scared of becoming a shadow of their own shadows. Someone said you look like you need a little mental therapy and a full-body massage at the same time, I kind of liked the idea and the mysterious concern but I chose intoxication and the boredom which comes with it.

..I try to read more these days, thinking that it might give me some knowledge but at the end of the day I am that same maligned buffoon. I still make the same mistakes….It is very depressing..if I sit back and look at myself in the mirror I just see a guy who is getting bald and old and who is nothing more than a dumb blabbermouth…nothing special…just another cheapy from some boulevard of losers..They say, ‘All the middle class dreams, when they collide with real life, they just crash and fall like ashes’..and then the person who thought that he had dreamt about something, he gets confused cries “what was I thinking?”.. I read somewhere, I think it was bukowski who said that the world is ruled by those people who give chances to other people..so in a way, your life is always dependent on those people who have the power to give chances..I don’t know what all I am saying and I don’t think I have a point here Mr. Camus..but few days back one of my friend casually asked me – Life is tough eh?…and I didn’t have anything to say to that..

“I conclude! I conclude!
My dearest dust, I can’t stay here”
–  Theodre Roethke

Signed

A (dot)

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8 thoughts on “No, This Is Not a Writer’s Block

  1. Blood-Ink-Diary says:

    Superb manifestation, you write well (as if you need my validation! lol). keep penning. Cheers.

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