The Night That Exsanguinated A Nation

"Your professor, while a very nice man, is a sneaky son of a bitch. The reason he could never get me up here to talk about the process of writing is that I'm not sure I have much to say about it that could benefit you. I still find it all very mysterious, years after I wrote my first book. And I'm not sure what it is that compels a person to play make believe, even after they're an adult. My favorite book is a collection of short stories by Raymond Carver called What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. And in the closing lines of the title story, Carver says ' I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone's heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making. Not one of us moved. Not even when the room went dark.' And I think that that's what writing is. It's listening to that beating heart. And when we hear it, it is our job to decipher it to the best of our abilities."

And there it was again, the sense that humanity is being judged from lightyears away, through a kaleidoscopic lens, sending the reflection of our deeds back to us in a distorted, somewhat perverted image as we hold on to our tiny little existence in the universe for dear life. It's funny how things turn out. Desperation makes for strange bedfellows, and mundanity makes for unintentional replenishment of creativity in the minds of the devolved, as if being guided by a force beyond our comprehension, desperately trying to make its presence felt to a race that isn't quite ready yet. It is when the fields are empty and quiet when the lightning strikes and burns it to the ground, igniting the coals to build the foundation of civilization. For all the ones that don't quite grasp the concept of writing, the lightning strike is metaphorical and it symbolizes change. Change never comes to times that go fast and progress. Change comes at a time of morose, morbid stagnation and it keeps the mind from getting too comfortable. Afterall "comfort zone" is an invention of mankind to justify calling themselves lazy or cowards. In reality, we as humans have no bubble that we can encase ourselves with and get away with it. Because the bubble pops exactly when you get just comfy enough and it crumbles like a house of cards into the pyre of reality; a pyre that is abused, insulted, and violated by humans as we try to bypass the trial by fire deeming our own selves to be better and worthy of surviving as part of a dying race. I say dying race not as a population, but rather as a perpetual process. We aren't "destined" to die the moment we are born. We ARE dying since the moment we are born. It is simply on a higher plain of existence than the one our brain functions in, demoting the concept of dying cells every second of a human's existence to a mere biological process. But cells dying every second and being replaced isn't the same as other biological processes. It isn't something the body does on purpose to sustain itself like the digestion, pumping blood or breathing. It is simply a corporate world where the obsolete are replaced by fresher, younger flesh. Brings a whole new meaning to cutthroat business. 

All this and what do we focus on? Which Backstreet Boy is Gay?... Alright, I know I am old and that not a lot of you guys will get the reference. But if all we do is focus on the vanity of other humans simply to feed our own vain shell of a happy life, then what are those cells worth afterall? Your body, at it's core is desperately trying to keep alive a sack of potatoes rotten inside out for a sliver of a premonition that it could one day achieve something significant by the metrics that it has set for itself and other sacks. And somehow our worries grow shallower and more vain, Man becomes more and more of a parasite with every passing day, as we realise that man was always rotten, we just didn't know. While I stand here trying to persuade people that not all man are bad, another man is engaging in an unforgivable act against the law, while another man chooses to blame the victim and yet other men focus on celebrating the independence day because WE ARE PROUD OF A COUNTRY THAT HARBORS SUCH SCUM. Aren't we? I understand that democracy is about freedom and liberty. But if you really think about it, some people just aren't worthy of being in charge of their own actions. Because when assholes like that are allowed to run free, chaos ensues and besmirches the fabric of humankind forever. And it's not like democracy is working out great anyway, is it? 15th August, 2024 is not a day of patriotism, it is and must forever be remembered as a day of mourning...