Nothing really matters

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Ultimately, nothing matters.

All these efforts you put in to make your life happy, your loved ones content – just burns down one day, in one moment’s brisk wind, and then the ashes pile up on you and you choke. Mercy, never comes. What comes is a fourth degree burn, looking at the watery eyes and a face in so much pain that your soul writhes. Yet you are a creature of habit, a slave of conscience that is bound to make mistakes. And ultimately those mistakes form your hell, your doom, whatever you call it.

Better snuff the lights, man, it’s getting too bright in here – said nobody, yet at times the scorching rays of the sun char your skin and you can’t protest. Not because you’re mute – you’ve given it all and you’ve come short. The end result is that you’ve become such an asshole that now the world you built around you has thrown you out to the dogs. You, you alone has to fend of the harshities of life now, all alone, watching your loved ones in pain because of you and then not because of you. Both of them hurt equally, and make you bleed.

Ultimately though, nothing matters. You’re but a cosmic mistake, a blatant blasphemy on this speck of a planet, a vile scoop of soul sundae. Your arguments are invalid and out of date and shape. The long walks through the shopping malls through jungles of amused people makes you realize that they don’t matter either, that they just exist as background noise, to give your story of imperfection some color and a palette, as do you for their novels. Friends are just as convoluted messes as you are, some fake, hiding under a facade, and then some that are truly lost, believing they can save a drowning existence.

But you’ve already drowned. The tar is in your lung, the rotten carcass is already showing. You’ve just put on a new coat. You’re already dead, you just don’t know it yet.

My head becomes lighter, my visions dizzy. The water drops, warm and still poisoned with feelings – from the eyes I am watching. Those eyes mean everything to me, but I know in the end everything is going to consume me, like love does, and leave nothing but dust.

I’m slowly walking towards nothingness, and she is too.

Going back to the roots

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There was a storm. A vicious cyclone that smashed into the wooden houses and rattled the roofs. Children hung to their parents, shivering fervently — and parents prayed and tried to hide in the lap of a bigger being.

I was outside, embracing the madness.

Four years back, I had seen my grandfather pass away in a quagmire of events that evoked a frenzy of emotions in me. In a week, my grandfather was reduced to a memory from a perfectly old human being. I haven’t seen many deaths in the family. My only memory of a death was of my grandmother, my mother’s mother, passing away right after the results of my board exams came out. At times, I saw her picture, receded in one corner between the idols of Laxmi and Saraswati, a smiling profile, and thought of how futile our lives were. Four years back, when I saw the lifeless body of my grandfather slowly being pushed towards the furnace, people crying around me, time froze. In that frozen frame I was looking at the entire slideshow called human life, from birth to its death — and realizing that it hardly mattered how we tried to escape.

We all were destined to fall, one by one.

That shouldn’t give us a source of depression, though. It is just one of many things we can’t change, and the best way to tackle them is to live a life truly worth living. Even if you’re not living your life to the fullest, make subtle attempts to change one part of your life, doesn’t matter how simple and small it is. It may be getting a pet. Or a wacky hairstyle. Or getting back to things like nature, poetry, books, good music, good food.

Simple things matter. And speak out, for your sake, and for everybody’s sake!! You’re only making matters worse for yourself. People can’t help you if you don’t let them.

I am finally starting to understand depression, and the more I realize it, the more I figure out that it is not a taboo. That it can be defeated. That this fight should never stop — no matter how futile life is, no matter if we all one day end up as dead as the dinosaurs, we will fight against depression.

Lives need to be happier. Let’s do it.