Despair

The sense of relief that accompanies the falling of a pretence is so overwhelming that it takes an entire sentence to express that joy, when a yay would have sufficed.

The road to perdition is surprisingly short. But then the human mind is so inflammed with suffering that perdition seems to be a better option than alleviating it. And the despair that the effort of eternal damnation brings is much akin to that what suffering brings. One is thus left wondering whether the fall to the depths and dwelling there is better than burning the insides hollow. And much of the despair lies in the fact that our journey here has been short. What awaits us is much longer. The end always seems near, but its long drawn out, and hell its not even funny.

And that journey I have taken, to the brink and back, and have survived to tell the tale. And this piece, which should have been condemned, now finds its way into the mind of another. Where ponder the reader shall, why indeed has this not been condemned.

There is hardly any joy left, except those that are short lived. Going away is an option. Coming back, I really dont know. Going away from what, and going away to what. 2 things that keeps me firmly planted. I know that over time, everything fades away into insignificance, how soon and how much are pretty much a function of how we choose to conduct ourselves that point forward.

And I know that this conflict that should have gone away, reflects somewhere on my balding countenance. It has found a friend in sarcasm. Perhaps a reflection of the traquility that is missing.