Alcohol, Abhorrence etc.

How would you describe yourself if you had to? Honestly? As if your life depended on it? Well, my life is not at stake here but I just love to play the game every once in a while. You know I am crazy like that. Someone once pointed out that my most admirable trait was my honesty. Later the said person retracted from that statement for all kinds of wrong reasons. But the fact remains. I am honest to a dangerous level of self destruction. I have lost people in the past owing to my undying stubbornness of submitting myself to my inner demons. 

Lonely. Depressed. Suicidal. Vengeful. Borderline alcoholic. That’s what I am. Every day I wake up and see that in the mirror while I brush my teeth or put makeup on. Nowadays the abhorrence is even greater in magnitude because I fucking hate my hair, which I ruined all by myself. Just like my life.


Let’s face it. I have depression. And what makes it worse; it comes with a general loathing towards people in general. Even after spending more than a year in Darjeeling, I do not have a single friend here. A handful of friends that I had made during the initial months, I managed to get rid of each one of them. And guess what? I have no regret. Because I truly, madly, deeply HATE people. Even those old fuckers who are always worrying about me, I have blocked each and every one of them. Hanging out with a bunch of old fuckers does make me want to kill myself even more.

There was a time I used to be a vain, miserable human being. So when some people (fucking losers, but in a different way) would ‘praise’ my apparent darkness that they would find attractive I would bask in the glory of my ‘talent’ and let myself succumb into that delusion little more while those people were busy enjoying their happening life. I am still miserable. Less vain. And hence I can see how hypocritical those people are. So if your vanilla, dormant gay ass found me deliciously dark, it’s time you go fuck yourself.

I don’t know if I am turning into an alcoholic but these days my only motivation to go out on a holiday or walk an extra mile during those worse-than-hell work days is to get a bottle of alcohol. Even if I am not drinking I like to steal a glance at my unopened bottle every once in a while to help me get through those miserably long days, or what I call ‘life’. most of the nights I go to bed half conscious, watching other people, perfectly happy, surrounded by family and dogs and still drinking. I fall asleep hoping I never wake up again.

I am always walking on thin ice these days. On some days I am somewhat alright. On some days I am downright self destructive. On some days I am shopping like a nutcase. On some days I am loathing my big, cool pile of clothes because I have no place to wear them. Because I live in a hellhole. I hate this town. I hate its people. I hate their faces. I hate their language. I hate everything about them. Including a general lack of intelligent quotient. Which I think comes free with the entire race.


Talking about hatred, I hate my job more than anything. On some days I contemplate quitting and going into a kind of self-imposed exile. Sometimes people suggest taking leave and going to Calcutta to spend few days with my parents. And that’s probably the biggest joke. Whenever I go to Calcutta I come back a little more insane. A little more suicidal. Not to mention the first thing I do after entering my pathetic apartment is pour myself a drink and swallow it more quickly Shiva had swallowed the cosmic poison to save the universe from going irrevocably extinct.

Last but not the least, it must feel awesome to be someone's first priority. It must feel awesome to  be someone's most favourite person. Well. I am not the most favourite of my own parents'. And given the way those eyes stare back into mine in the mirror every morning, I am not MY favourite. Maybe in some other life when I will be done paying off for my sins I will be able to look into my eyes and realise, how amazing it feels to have some true love in your life.

Not today.


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