When I Die

Something Stupid

     Talking about this seems like a joke. You know, the kind that makes the listener smile, and the speaker cry. I'm having a mood swing. A terrible, terrible mood swing. And the worse thing is that it's not because of any drugs [I've never had any]. It's my brain. It's fed up. I want to run. I want to sleep. I want to go hide away into a dark corner. I want... nothing. I want nothing.

It's like a headache. I can feel it in my head. Except that it doesn't pain. It's like all the blood is rushing into my head, wanting to explode, just like a bubblegum. Nothing feels right. It started yesterday afternoon :

I switch on the TV, and see all those sick movies, where everything's right and everyone's super rich and happy. I listen to music, wondering why these super rich guys are singing about their misery. How in Gods name can they be miserable???

I almost go downstairs, and then wonder what's the point in it. I go to the bathroom, and almost turn the shower on, and then decide against it. I take my clothes off, and wear them again. I pace idiotically in my empty house. And then, like it always does, anger seeps in. I don't know what I'm angry about. But I am. It seeps off, as I begin to wonder if my being angry is going to help. I wonder if suddenly tears will pop out. They don't.

I try to read a book, the words seem to drown out. I try to play my guitar. Nothing comes out. Nothing. The sound used to comfort me once. This time it doesn't. Sit by the window. The cars flash by. Flickering lights. Burning torches. My funeral.

I wonder for the nth time about my existence. I wonder why I don't just slash my wrists. Too much pain, I tell myself. I don't want to die painfully. I'm a coward. Or maybe I just don't want to die. Yeah, that's probably it. Remember that old song which goes 'I don't want to die, but I ain't keen on living either'

I go into the kitchen. Open the fridge. Peek in it for sometime. Slam it shut. Eating won't help. I bury myself into the bed. Feel suddenly uncomfortable. Sit up. I put a leg up. Play with my toes.

I boot up my PC to play a game. Change my mind, and shut it down. I start it up again, thinking of coming to writing.com and doing something. Then realize that I don't have much internet time left. Shut down again. Pick up the phone. Forget why I picked it up. Slam it down. Boot up my PC again. It won't connect to the internet. Just as well. Just as expected.

Try to study. All I see is the stupidities and mistakes of the jerks who called themselves scientists. All I see are my own stupidities. The doorbell rings. It's some salesman. Try to listen to him, half paying attention, passing time. Slam the door on him. I don't remember what he was trying to sell. Oh, wait, it was some kind of gel that was supposed to slim your stomach by five inches.

I try to smile at the absurdity of the situation. Poor man, I wish I was 'bulky'. The salesman could've made a sale. I run my fingers through my hair, messing it all up. Walk over to the toilet. Pee. Flush. It doesn't. It's empty. Wait till it fills up. Flush. Water gurgles down. Come out. A bird sits at the window. Stare. It flies away. Just as well.

Phone rings. Another 'friend'. Wants my drawing sheets, so he can copy them, and get by without doing any hard work. Oh well, doesn't matter. I wish I was like that. I wish I could take the easy way out. Open my little drawer. Relive the past with the things in there. Stare really hard at a certain picture. All of us brotherhood, along with that girl, goofing around. Its my birthday pic. The same birthday after which everything... lets say everything changed. Another picture. Grandmother. I love her.

Look at the clock. Its 9 in the evening. Another day gone by. Another day with my best friend, emptiness. Bell rings. A 'friend' at the door. She wants to know if I'd go with her and a few others to a movie. Been long since I saw one. Been long since I went out at all. But they're going on the day before the one on which I've got my project submission at college. Curse college for the nth time. Curse fate for the nth time. And then begin cursing anything and everything.

Silently, slowly, have my dinner. Might have tasted yummy some other time. This time, tastes like rotten flesh. Wonder again about my future. For some weird reason, bang the plates very loudly in the sink. Just like the melodramatic scenes in the movies.

Pack my bag for the next morning. Shove my squash racket into it. Wonder if I'll get even half an hour to play the next day. Go sit on the terrace. Stroll around on it. Go to the edge, stare down, wonder if jumping would solve the problem. Probably not. Might end up with permanently broken bones, unlike the temporary ones that granny used to gift me with.

Look up at the sky. Starless night. Clouds all over. begin wondering about a certain conversation I had with someone over here. Wonder if there's something missing in me. Wonder why I don't think of the size of a girl's butt when I look at her. Wonder why my hormones don't work overtime. Wonder if I'm impotent. I'm not. Doc said so. In his words, "Perfectly normal."

Yeah, Right.

A car drives by, loud music blaring from it. I feel like screaming. Not worth it. Silently come down, change into shorts. Lie down in bed. Stare at the wall in front of me. Its empty. Keep staring till my eyes begin to pain, and become watery. Pretend that they're tear drops from crying. Wipe them off, realizing they're not because of my crying. Because I'm not crying.

Wonder again about where I went wrong. Wonder about what the others did to have their smiles and what I didn't do to have none. Wonder if my role in this world is to be a pathetic jerk, yet again.

Sleep is impossible. Stay awake all night, staring at the wall. Just when sleep is about to take over, today, the alarm rings. Time to get ready for college. Straighten my shorts, scratch my scalp, go to the toilet. Come out. Brush teeth. Have a bath in four minutes. Can't stay in longer. Being late is not permissible. Slip some clothes on, have a hurried breakfast, walk away to college. When I get there, its empty. Deserted. No one's there. No students. No professors. No one except the caretakers and the sweepers and the non-teaching staff.

I ask one old caretaker, "Where is everyone?"
He replies "Were they supposed to come today?"
"Well, Aren't we supposed to study here? Don't we need professors for that?" I answer, in my usual pissed off, wise-ass tone.
Gives a mocking grin, and replies, "Well, colleges usually stay closed on sundays."

Duh.


Perfect. Just perfect. Wasted the one day when I could've slept nicely. Walk home in a dizzy anger. Get hit by a sudden wave of fear, as I'm reminded of the bomb blast that happened so many lifetimes ago. Darned angry. Strip off my clothes. Snuggle up in bed, butt naked. Sleep wont come. Keep trying for two hours. Still wont.

Get up, have lunch. Boot my computer. Log on to writing.com. Type this entry. Post it. Read Email. Load up IM. No one really online. Go check my other mail. One little one from Ronnie. She's coming to Bombay sometime soon. Thank God for that. About to log off, wondering how this day will turn out.

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