Some ass once said : ‘art never comes out of happiness’ .
That ass was smart. That ass was right. And he was an ass for being right.
You try sometimes. And most times, it works. Your tears
actually didn’t go waste. They managed to fuel some empathy in the target
person and shit was sorted out. But its not always like that is it? I mean ,
not all of us are sob fests. Not all of us are spoilt kids harbouring fake
tears. Most of us are like the Bob Dylan
songs. Crying within an immense solitude,
that which heard from another world , sounds like a beautiful song that gives
you peace. The truth is, most of us are hopeless tragedies.
If things could work out just fine, then we wouldn't mind.
But the cold blooded truth is, it never actually does. Maybe its a just me
being all pessimistic. But if i could make all the things in my head work out in reality, i'd
actually sound pretty close to optimism.
Picture a 'rainbow- farting- unicorn' optimism. I think a lot. Spend 90% of my time
in the bathroom winning an argument i already lost, or saying the things i didn't
say when i actually wanted to.
But little by little , you get accustomed to it. learning to live with disappointments and surprises.
Some of us rescue ourselves. While the rest wait to be rescued. Either way , we'r still sailing in the same boat of short lived happiness and the consistent fear of loneliness.
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