Hm, My Love, I can’t kill myself. Please. Can’t you just come closer and save me? Save me from being the murderer and the killed at once? Closer. A bit closer. A bit more closer. A bit more, please? Can’t you just merge into me and make me feel I am complete?
Imperfection. Imperfection. Imperfection. Imperfection is what I always readily crave for. Being perfect kills me. Like, how a potion of poison kills all of you. The obsession with a perfect thing makes me feel like “am I the only one who doesn’t want to be perfect?” but then, I have a few other fellows for whom perfection is as dangerous as it is to me. Imperfection is the right way to lead this life if you ask me. Of course, you won’t ask me, why would you? I am not perfect enough to answer your question! That is a privilege.
At the same time, it doesn’t mean like we try to be imperfect. No. Who wants to try being imperfect. We don’t try to be imperfect. All we would try is not to be psychotic regarding the perfection theme. If we can be perfect we will be. If we can’t and we know it, we won’t be. We don’t want to try hard. We don’t want to become Bollywood’s Milka Singh or Sulthaan and Hollywood’s Rocky Balboa or Creed of perfection! Nah, we don’t want to.
What is the point I want to put across? I’ll tell you, see: I don’t want to create a maze. I don’t to set up an enigma. I don’t want to sprinkle up symbols in this blog and make you Robert Langdon of Blogging. At the last, I don’t want to talk of what I don’t want to do.
This is all about love. No, I am not talking of this world and universe. I am talking about this blog and the words I am spilling here. It is all about love bro/sis (hey, not you okay, you are not sis, it is for all other girls, please). It is all about love: all this blabbering, all this confusion, all the chaos I am creating is for her. I don’t know what to do and how to express it. I don’t even know if this can be put in a proper order. I don’t know if there is a real proper order for love! All bro’s/sis’s who are reading this, I am not even writing this for you, no. I am writing this for My Love. I just want to talk to her with this. I don’t know how to consciously put all my ideas/feelings in a chronological manner. I am keeping them as I am feeling them. . :
Hm. I am tired. I am exhausted. I don’t want to do this anymore. A place where we would be loved. Hm. That is what we all crave for. I tink so. No? You crave for a Benz, that’s the problem with your evolution, I can’t help it. Any normal and common human like me who is capable of earning 20,000rs per month can sustain his physical body on this planet happily. The spiritual is an other thing, let’s not talk of it and keep the things simple. Now, the most important thing is this: The Emotional-Self. What should we do with it? That’s what i do not know. I am afraid I would go for a compromise because of the society and would kill my emotional self later because it always comes in middle of the things I do: I might not satisfy it and so it makes me sad; then all the people would convince me that the emotional self is something which shouldn’t be considered because having an emotional self is as good as being immature. Then what would I do? Since the beginning I have been fed the lie that being matured is top of everything. So, simple, I will probe myself to kill it; kill my emotional self. Oh my God! Such a havoc. Such a brutal, cold murder! Everyone of us is a murderer, isn’t it? We kill ourselves easily because, there is no need to answer about it to anyone. Hm, My Love, I can’t kill myself. Please. Can’t you just come closer and save me? Save me from being the murderer and the killed at once? Closer. A bit closer. A bit more closer. A bit more, please? Can’t you just merge into me and make me feel I am complete?
When you see an animal running relentlessly for a really long time with its complete power, raged up run more and more, you can half-expect its fall; stumbling all along the path, skirting through the sand and getting its skin torn. Escaping is something like that. We start running from something. We think that running fast is freedom. Suddenly we realise we are falling. Before we can control ourselves, our skin would be torn, blood oozing out of the wounds. We will be wondering from what we have escaped! Hurt? Then what are we after the fall? Not hurt? Hurt will come. Escape is just a delay!
The place where we can stay head high even if we are imperfect is the place where we truly belong. Isn’t it? I don’t know, that is what I believe. The place where people or circumstances would probe us to be more and more perfect is not our place; it is a place of that person who would you be when you are perfect. Not yours. Drunkardly talking!: What is imperfection? Just try to answer me. Not fitting into something is being imperfect. You can call a 5mm Nut Screw imperfect because it is not fitting into a 2mm Nut Screw Hole! No bro. It is just like the 5mm Nut Screw is at the wrong place. It belongs to the 2mm Nut Screw Hole. People will get it regarding the Nut Screws but not humans; nut screws are way more less-complicated than humans, that is why. If we try hard we can understand humans and we can differ human from human very clearly as we can distinguish 5mm Nut Screw and a 2mm Nut Screw.
Not Perfect! No:
I am not perfect now. No, to rephrase the statement; I am not at the place where I belong to. Yes, I can feel that. Where do I belong then? I don’t know and I can’t answer. No. I don’t know for now. But, I want to feel perfect. I want to feel set somewhere. I want to feel that I am not killing my emotional self because of those bad non-emotional, social constraints. Ah! Then is when My Love, I feel like being with you. Being with you like, that forever kind of thing. Then I realise I can’t. Then I wish I can be. then I fantasise being. Then, I wake up sobbing! Can‘t you just merge into me and make me feel I am complete? Can’t you just be like that and make me feel eternal? May be with you merged in me or me merged in you, we can transcend the material constraints of this physical dimension and become wiser than Time, thicker than Gravity, older than Universe and reach the primal reason of the existence? Don’t you think so My Love?
I feel perfect. What I mean is, I feel right, I feel good, I feel like ‘yes, right, this is the place, yes, right, this, I found this finally, yeah,’ when I sense you beside me. Like, when I can see you, when I can smell, when I can touch, ah! Even when I can hear you. I feel that. I am so sorry if it feels too physical and you’re into spiritual or Platonic love kind of thing. I am sorry for taking for granted that you are into the live kind first of all. I just am saying, I am sorry, but I am a primordial human being. I am as good as a primitive roaming in the modern world. I don’t know the meanings of all those after-human and beyond-human things. All I know is holding your hand and wondering how it can me feel perfect.
Till I find such a perfection, I don’t think I can be pushed to the edges of imperfection and get turned as a perfect human. No. I don’t want to.
Hm. Done. I think I squeezed myself. So many unsaid things would be there, yes. Yes. But I believe you the theme of it. You got the style of it. You got how they will sound if they are said. They would be heavy, they would be unmeaningful, they’d seem dark, eerie, creepy, weird, psychotic and may be, redundant. But they would be filled with roughly coiled love of mine towards you My Love. yes, love would tint all my words when I talk thinking about you. All the words, tinted with love, just because I talk about you. You, My Love, you, yes.
So. . .
Can‘t you just merge into me and make me feel I am complete? Can’t you just be like that and make me feel eternal? May be with you merged in me or me merged in you, we can transcend the material constraints of this physical dimension and become wiser than Time, thicker than Gravity, older than Universe and reach the primal reason of the existence?