I constantly try to ignore the comparisons between the fake them and the real me. The pompous display of “Everything has been figured out” is so deep that even my whole conscious mind of realness just dips into it to its bottom.
I try not to imagine the gargantuan amount of fun and fullness their lives contain…their Insta stories are highly stacked with photos of expensive diabetic snacks and those luxurious elusive clothes that make my “Buy 1 Get 1 Free” t-shirts a bummer.
Their symmetrical jawlines and perfect hair kind of drags me down to my insecure cute little tummy and insanely rough hair. The number of relationship goals these guys have cannot be matched by my denial of getting into this whole adult version of my somewhat adorable childhood. I mean who doesn’t wants to get loved as long as you are small and can get whatever you want just by making it sound super important.
The highly secretive world of ours, that is our mobile phones, are getting smarter and faster with each passing day and with the addition of filters and cameras lenses, we forget to look at the mirrors. The plane grey mirror is kind of alone now, with its reflection getting drowned in its own surface.
Do you know what I have figured out?
That we are in search of something quintessential, something deep, something familiar or someone close. We are in need of some love, some affection. Something so common but seems so stupid to us that we feel we are better off alone in this harsh world than to demand some pure love from others.
We are, in general, alone.
I seem to remember a quote by Charles Bukowski, “I wanted the whole world or nothing”. I cannot figure out the meaning of this. Maybe it’s one of his depressing thoughts of doom. But the thing we can consider is that life is nothing like we have planned for, the niches of time and life don’t intersect each other at any point. The delusions of happiness and tragedy are alike, it starts with the mind and ends in our head. So, to be happy is just as simple as being gloomy.
Maybe life has treated you a little rough, the rain seems to get you, the tears leak out of you.
But you know the sun can be bright one day and the night will be less dark, and you can just smile at the bright white stars.
Your scars are beautiful, so are you, the thoughts of despair will be over, just hold on, hold on to someone you knew.
Put your hands on your chest and feel the heart glow, glowing in its invincible pride, the slowness of his movements cannot be compared to its demise, just as you cannot be dead when moving slowly on the curved paths of life.
Akash Rout is a jolly old fella who writes non-fiction as well as fiction. He is known for his rebellious yet subtle form of satires and humor. An aspiring stand-up comic with a science background. So, give him a break, will you!