A Little Less Pain





“You need alcohol and marijuana to make your life worth a page full of story.”

 

It was a cold rainy night when my ex-girlfriend labelled me as an outcast and a junkie and whatnot to justify her resentment and her reasons to end things with me. It was a bright summer day when they told me that I would end up like a broken glass. But then, isn’t it what y’all think? We, the disgrace and the cancers for the society, drink because we have to find an excuse to give cause to our breathing. We smoke, for our lives hold no gravity when we’re in our senses. We’re cursed; we’re dead, inside and out.

 

To all, who believe so, I condemn you. I say, you have no right to judge, for life seems gracious and generous from the pedestals you sit upon. If life is beautiful for you; it is the same if not more for us. You get broken and you surrender to the tears and look for sympathy. You repel us, for we both can’t fight what is beyond us and so you stay strong and we resort to a few disgraceful moments of insanity.

 

Why, you ask? What, you exclaim? For some people, there is absolutely no way out and so they need an escape from their lives. Contrary to the popular belief, there might not be a way where there is will. We need to get away from the real world and resort to a world of fantasy, a world of no pain but ecstasy.

 

How would you know, I ask? Condemn Bob Marley and Madonna, would you? Kill the broken, won’t you?

 

There is a greater reality in the arms of a hidden truth, far from where your minds can wander off to. A reality, where no broken one dares to think about the wounds on his soul! There is no need to pray for the agony to go away; it is a beautiful reality of love and euphoria concealed behind the veil of an insane world.

 

Sometimes when I get high, I think about the women I have loved and the women I’ve lost and all I can remember is that how beautiful they are. If I were sober, I’d sink in my woes and probably give up on the idea of love and sob like a poor old woman.

 

I think about how my mother used to feed me with her hands until I was twenty and how she used to feed me the almost perfect sized small bites because it is still hard for me to swallow bigger bites. Her death kills me when I am sober because the thought that she might be in a better place, is too beautiful to get attracted to a sane mind.

 

I think about how in the final moments, a man must be happy and how fear would finally leave him when he gazes upon death. Or probably, how even for a smallest of the moments, a prostitute might be happy that she need not degrade herself anymore, even if it is for a brief eternity. Would you think of that? In the right state of mind? Would you?

 

I believe that when death comes and touches me for the first and the last time, I will have no regrets. I have lived my life sane and insane, and in the divine light of the almighty, I can say that I cherish the half when I wasn’t sober. When I wasn’t dead, it reduced pain; it gave me joy and hope that someday it’s going to be all right.

 

I have the right to be happy, don’t I? I have the right to live, don’t I?

 

We, the disgrace, won’t stand against you like you, so proudly, do for us. We won’t hate you; neither will we ask you to lick our wounds and mend your opinions about us. All we want is to live another day in a world where sometimes, love seems to favour the broken. All we need is for you to realise that some people aren’t strong enough and that they have nobody with their arms open to comfort them. Some people don’t hate the world. They just hate living inside the reality.

 

Some people might like to watch the world burn but we; we like to burn our senses and fall in love with life all over again, even if for a moment.

 




Curse the broken, fondle with their pain and suck the spirit out of their hopeless hope! It is not us who need to live, it is you! For once, I want you to know that you will never be the same without us.

 

I, not within the confines of my sanity in my world of dreams, write this to preach love to all the lost souls! Someday, when death comes to you and asks you to wave the final goodbye, you will feel pain. And in those righteous moments, I will be there to ask you something, but not before I ask the death for a right to do so.

 

“Do you want to live the life you lived, again, but with a little less pain?”

 

Statutory Warning: Smoking and consumption of Alcohol are injurious to health.

 

 


Image Source: Flickr.com


 

 


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