My Stockpile of Agonies


The earth and existence

fabricated for perpetually harsh lies.

Found only in this planet, fascinating things that leave you hanging with aw and amazement. The mysteries of a human being, art and beauty are to be found through every dark corner. Every known knowledge, powerful and divine, just goes by. Every known word, nourishing and sweet, just bursting with meaning. The limelight focuses on it; it is the creation of Science, the masterpiece of Religion, the thesis of Philosophy and the biggest catastrophe for every living soul.

Behind every wall, there is life. Life that everybody tries to colour, to put flavour in and to sprinkle with unicorns and fairies and magic and happy-ever-afters. Through everyday, the struggle for survival sinks in deep within our very skins. It burns yet it satisfies our longings.The worry of maintaining this “life” is the worry that kills. Our desire to make this earth proud breaks every bone in us. Ironic, I know. That our passion for keeping up with the fast revolution of this very planet is the one behind our ageing, the one which exhausts our minds and, in every way possible, the source and centre of every problem.

If the Earth would just kindly disappear for a moment, if it would be caring enough to take away our fears and predicaments, time would stop and so as all the beautiful, complicated minds of our anguish. The cosmos would be uninteresting, but it won’t matter because no one would be left to fret upon it being uninteresting. We don’t have to worry about anything anymore because there would be no us, no nothing, no dilemmas, no life. If it happens, I’d be ready and willingly go too.

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