Clouds, black and white, twilight

Life – A rogue turn and the promise of more to come

This life has turned into a series of unfinished scribbles, old routines, disillusioned hours, and a promise of more to come.

Jane, I’ve to give myself a hundred reasons just to get out of bed. The dreams have evolved from random whatever to hellish nightmares.

It’s an interesting turn of events, Jane. Not that I am surprised it has come to this. There was always a promise of more to come. There still is.

Jane, I used to have a bland personality. I wouldn’t care about the social interactions or the small talks of the learned ones. I was shy, awkward, scared, unfamiliar, untrained in how to act in situations and circumstances involving people. And I had accepted that. That’s just who I was.

I didn’t have to think about my actions, I could predict my next moves with my eyes closed. Every time. That’s the thing, Jane. I was predictable to myself. I had control over myself.

But, lately, things have changed, Jane. That predictability is gone. I have turned rogue on myself. There’s no control over my actions. What am I gonna say or do? What am I gonna scribble or jot down? There’s no knowing anymore.

I’ve turned rogue, Jane, and it has given birth to a certain kind of excitement, passion, intensity inside of me. It’s enchanting, vibrating, like a current running through my body. It almost feels like I am having a seizure. Like an invasion right into my soul. It’s a feeling of thousand orgasms, Jane, albeit momentary. But, at that moment, I dance to whatever tunes it conjures up for me.

Yes, Jane, sometimes I jump, sometimes I dance, sometimes I scribble down random words and sentences that transform into lawless poems. I am scared of this feeling, Jane, but I still love it. It’s like an uncontrollable rage where you lose yourself to blinding energy. It makes me feel alive, truly, and possibly saves me from jumping deep into the abyss.
I love it, Jane. I am scared of it and I still love it.

But, things often get a little dysfunctional, Jane. I am not talking about out there. I am talking about ‘in here’. Right inside this fucked up head.

I would love to tell you how I feel exactly, right now, right at this very moment, Jane when everything gets jumbled, muddled, and thrown into disarray. But the thoughts, they keep overlapping, sometimes twice, thrice in a split second. It’s impossible to pin one down.

The feeling, the mood, the zone, they change so swiftly, so rapidly that I am a mere spectator, standing on the outside, trying to comprehend the volatility and fickleness of all of it.

Of course, the trying only brings me more failures and disappointment with a deep bag full of anxiety joining in the fun invariably. It’s such a pleasure!

But, still, I try. Despite the failure, disappointments, anxieties, and frustrations. I try. Because there are still a few moments when I am human. A normal, sane, honest to God, human. And, apparently, this is what a sane man does. Struggle, survive, repeat.

And then there are times when I move beyond all of this, Jane. When I’ve been pushed from the edge of my sanity a thousand times and the willingness to get back one more time has faded out silently in the background.

At that moment, there’s nothing else left to do but to jump into oblivion or turn into something I don’t quite understand yet. It’s not up to me as the survival instinct takes command and the second option chooses me. I believe you’ve met my other side, Jane.

It’s not a case of dissociative personality. There’s no Patricia or the beast fighting over to take control. I am always conscious, always aware of him taking over me. I don’t resist, but, I enjoy it rather.

The potential of my evil is limitless, Jane. But, I am in control of him, always. I let him take over me, but I always have the strings. It’s my beast, my demon, my devil, and I use it as my muse to comprehend the mysteries of life.

But, don’t you worry, Jane. I won’t let him take over me. Not yet. There are moments when I am still sober, still human. There are moments when this life still has some meaning, a willingness to struggle just for the sake of it.

But, Jane, there’s only so much you can take before you give in. There’s only so much you can suffer in this life, Jane, before you start enjoying the evil…

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