Friday, March 26, 2010

Paranoid

It was a room which was completely dark. And by dark I mean DARK, pitch black. I didn’t know how I wound up there- it felt as if I was in that room forever, and on the other hand I was fairly certain that I had been somewhere else in the recent past. Kind of like an uneasy calm, you know.

How did I know it was a room? Actually even I was puzzled. I would not deny that there was a claustrophobic aura about that place, which I cannot explain. Sounds silly I know, I mean the very notion offends me as it should offend a man of rational sensibilities, but you can’t have it all your way. I mean to say I just knew it was a room, you know. It’s like that place had to be a room, since the whole point of the setup was to trap me.

Yes, to trap me. You think I am paranoid don’t you? “Laugh at this guy, he is a fucking loon.” I assure you, with all the sincerity my black heart can conjure, that insanity was the farthest thing from my mind. I had no clue why anyone would like to trap me, in a dark room, but I had to face facts. So I decided to face them.
I sat down and started thinking about my life, with a certain detachment I had never achieved before. Incredibly, I realized just how insignificant it had all been. In fact, I couldn’t find a single person who would hate me enough to lock me up in a dark room forever. This was the point I broke down – people swat down mosquitoes, commit suicide, and wage wars, but no one cared enough to hate me!!!! It felt as if I had totally wasted my years of freedom.

Suddenly the darkness started to clear. I mean, it was not as if bright light filled the room, but rather it became less dark. It was like a kind of dirty twilight you know, like muddy water, a sepia toned world. It was then that I fully realized my predicament, for I was an exhibit in some sort of cosmic zoo!
It was a room which had no right to be where it was –as if some sick joker had placed a structure out of nowhere in the middle of nothingness.  I noticed that the room had glass walls, and curious faces were peeping from the other side.  Faces I knew. Mocking faces, puzzled faces, happy faces, foolish faces, indifferent faces, ugly faces, beautiful faces. Lots of faces. With dead fucking eyes.

With a cry of rage, I threw myself at them. But the glass barrier was too strong, too hard. I banged my fist against it, and shouted and cursed, but the dead fucking eyes remained dead fucking eyes, and nothing changed.

They don’t care what I do.

I will go to sleep now. Maybe when I wake up, I will be somewhere else. Somewhere equally horrible.
The minstrel sings,
The land I call home,
It’s not my own, It’s not my own.         

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