Crepuscular Vision in the Dark

Many a times do I find it impossible to escape the desolation that fills my body as I traverse through the multitude of people in my life and the profusely populated avenues of where I wander day after day, a particularly sad note to begin with, yet the statement remains as it is, a bitter truth. Every day I grow inevitably tired of the facade that everyone so effortlessly upholds, concealing motives, emotions, personas and far more. After a certain point it becomes almost painful to uphold that plausible personality and that sense of self which is deemed socially acceptable, a standard so mercifully set by those around you, for you.

A kind of internal deterioration ensues when I finally drop the pretense and see the entire picture for what it truly is: a dark cruel world where existence is nothing more than a lonesome singularity that slowly, but surely implodes onto us leaving us eternally distraught. I can assure a stray reader or two that this seemingly rampant nihilism is not born of a derogatory attitude towards life but merely an individual trying to embrace realism and step down to say that despite the miracles that people claim to surround the happenings of one's journey, it would be foolish to avert our gaze from all that is wrong and all that is mortally crippling.

Morbidity is so consistent that it becomes astounding how everything can immediately revert to the base state of being bland and dim. It is not necessarily by choice does one arrive back to the point from whence we started, we could be surrounded by people bustling with energy and conversation, watching a funny movie, having a pleasant family dinner but always, always come back to that lone alleyway in our decrepit minds, completely devoid of any sense or purpose. Crippled by this reverting state of mind that does not appear to loosen its grip on any of us, at long last, we surrender ourselves to the ideology that it can all only go so well for so long before its time to return to monotony.

Fortune is such a widely assumed misconception that continues to be an established entity where people do not dare question the endless misery that humanity is constantly surrounded by. Does it not frustrate anyone beyond the point of exclaiming 'Why me?' , why not ask 'Why so?' Why not for once disengage on questioning our personal circumstances but stop to wonder if there ever will be a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow of morose hues. Now now, by this time it might be an understandable assumption that these are naught but ramblings of a poor afflicted soul, I could only hope to reassure you that these cryptic accounts laced with a sad undertone do not come of emotional turmoil , but of a deep seated confusion as to why there never really is an answer to why some things are as they are.

Sorrowful times are as frequent as they come in those relatively short but excruciating times during which we are absolutely pummeled into the ground by the never-ending amount of hurt that cannot be quantified in terms of how deeply it would go on to affect our minds such that only in the future can we truly see to what depth those 'trying times' had cost us, in terms of sanity that is. Is it that you get strong enough over time to better withstand the strife that life brings down upon or is it just a point past which we are just numb to the after effects and just accept the tragedies that befall us so.

Crippling, is the feeling when you know that one of the most fundamentally universal things that every human shares is at the end just suffering, many a time do we find ourselves at our wits end , trying to muster a reason from somewhere far beneath, something to keep us moving forward. Sometimes, its just sad that we have to sit and wonder what to be happy about. Isn't it so ironic that whilst a frown or a face of sadness bares all of its emotions out in the open while a smile can hide something so monumental beneath it. Do we fancy ourselves masters of disguise where we just embrace a futile in effort in making what's in face dissuade what's in mind.

A shudder would escape down my spine as I gaze into the burdened eyes of a a fellow man that refuses to let on for a moment that his mind is crumbling on the inside, day by day. The mental corrosion that swallows me and my fellow man in it's depraving maw is sometimes a welcome sight when we grow tired of dreading the grief that will come along eventually as a counteraction to the time in which we were allowed to withhold our worries. Balance in the world is viewed as such a sanctity that everybody is grateful for but that supposed blessing merely an assurance that the agony always comes back.