Joker and the Thief.

Let go of that anger. Let go of that pain. Let go of that dejection that develops and grows inside you when someone breaks your heart. When things don't turn out the way you expected them to. When your hope is shattered, though diminutive. You want to, so desperately, destroy the agony it causes. So destroy the cause of the agony. Destroy your emotions. Emotions are for the weak. They make you vulnerable. So susceptible, to the malice intended by the society. Just how extremely sad are you when, for example, you break up when your love for the one held no boundaries and confinement? You feel like ending the agony and self-pity. So do it. Destroy your heart, before someone else does. Spit the anger and enmity out, because it shows nothing but vulnerability. Be a monster. A cold, heartless monster who everyone loves. Who's acceptable by the world even if he isn't. Who lives, even if he's dead. Be that one person, who no one and nothing can break. Take pride, when someone calls you weird. Calls you a freak of nature. At least you're nothing like the pitiful millions of them. Be cold, be heartless,

and put a smile on everybody's face.

That 70s Show.

I lived through one of the best days ever. Dark Knight Rises, of course. Bloody brilliant. The movie is at its best, and so is Christopher Nolan. And the post-climax gives birth to this faint hope inside me which indicates there's another movie going to be added in the chain. I hope it does. I liked Dark Knight better, though. It's probably the Joker effect. How I love the guy and his spontaneity. And just so that the fags who say Dark Knight Rises is better than Avengers know, it's not. Remind me who got a weekend opening of $207.6 million, yeah? And then rub it in your face yourself, 'cause I'll be busy counting the fucks I don't give.
And the fun doesn't just end there. I made friends with these two retards who came along for the movie. One of them loved the movie. Needless to say, she was the cooler one. The other one insulted the movie. And then she said something else. I didn't hear 'cause I was busy looking for my chainsaw which was crying to slice up a fresh head. Dammit, I couldn't find it. Good on her. But she's still fun. Both of them are. And then it all ended with the awesome Venky's Chicken 'n Cheese burger. Sumptuous thing it was. I feel uncool saying I like a Venky's product.
I don't even know why this post is named 'That 70s Show'. I guess I just love the show. It's hilarious. Go watch it. Bye.

Carnival Of Lust.

Imagine we're all living in a world where everyone is a song. No people. Just songs everywhere. Even your parents are songs. You're any song you like to be.
I was in a bus today, going to my college. And there she was, that sexy son of a gun. Burn It Down. Shit, I'm serious. You'd get a eargasm listening to it and earjaculate in your pants.
I'm in love with the song. There's no denying it. It's just bloody perfect. The beats, vocals, everything. And it's not just me who says this. Billboard does too.
When you download it or listen to it today, or whenever, just put your headphones on, and close your eyes. Don't do anything. Just think you're doing something. Make your mind think you're thinking. I don't know if you understand. But if you do, your mind will do anything with the song. And I'm not shitting you. Mine created a whole video in my head for the song. It was quite appropriate. Just saying. Bye. 

A Walk to Remember.

So it comes down to this day,
the word cannot be refuted.
The time you lived, up and running,
with God it shall be disputed.

It started, all, a year ago,
relishing our anniversary, you fainted.
In my arms, you had a painful smile,
I'd kill the Fates for what they'd painted.

Unconscious in your room,
the cancer relentlessly maturing.
It was hard to look right at you,
and imagine the pain you were enduring.

I didn't want you to stay alive with the pain,
but the medic wouldn't listen.
They kept you going till this day, now,
so that you, I wouldn't be missin'.

Your corpse scandalizing me in my thoughts,
I shake my head off of all the illusions.
While I'm holding your hand and comforting you,
the last thing I want are intrusions.

We walk the meadows and gardens outside,
you unexpectedly throw me a kiss.
You fall in my arms and bid your goodbyes,
I know this walk I'm going to miss.

Sympathy for the Devil.

And just as my blog strikes 666 hits, I feel different. Is it my mind? Is it something else? I don't know. Is it the detestable darkness inside of me which is showing itself? Is it all the Supernatural episodes I watched so passionately coming to life in my head? Probably not. That makes no sense.
Then what is it? Why do I feel so impure, yet so invulnerable? Why is my mind playing these cryptic whispers inside me? I have this urge to erase all the colours from my sight. I want it all to be shady and grotesque. I feel like watching an existence getting torn to shreds. I want anarchy. I want annihilation. Acres of land getting beleaguered, right in front of my eyes. I want people to run around, screaming for their lives, while they're muddling their way through the bloodbath the demons have caused. I want a fallen angel to guillotine all the creatures that exist. One by one. Slowly. Painfully.
But isn't that what you're doing? Isn't that what all humans are doing? You fight for everything. It's a cut-throat brawl for anything and everything. Whether it's the grades at your school/college, or for a fucking ticket at the train station. How many times have you exactly let it go if someone has taken a place in front of you in the line when you were waiting for a even a minute more than him? Have you? Ever? I doubt it. You're living in a world where you are the demons and the fallen angel who guillotines the creatures and causes a bloodbath. The same bloodbath, in this 'humane' world is the tears and dreams you and your fellow mates have shattered, of someone else's who deserves something more than you, but was too unfortunate to get it. I am one of them. But I'm speaking up. What about those who can't? You're bored by now, and you'll exit this blog, and get back to the gruesome world where humans are barely human. But have a heart. At least act as if you do. And let someone get in the line before you if they want to, for they may have something way more important to do. That person will thank you.
You're probably thinking it makes me socially unacceptable to portray my motive behind this post in such a sadistic manner. But I don't care. I was labelled 'socially unacceptable' long before this.

I just don't want you to be labelled the same.

You, Yourself, and the Mirror.

You've always been searching. Searching for a friend, girlfriend/boyfriend, whatever. Searching for someone who understands you, reads your thoughts before they're transformed into words. You call them your counter-part.
Did it ever occur to you, that you are your counter-part? That the one you're scouring the planet for, doesn't have to be in the shape of another being? You squander all your time searching for someone who doesn't run away, doesn't back off when he sees the abominable darkness inside of you. So what's the harm in believing that you are the same person? Does it make you feel lonely? Lonely is just a word. It's made by the people who failed to connect with their soul. There is no such thing as lonely. Tomorrow, when you wake up, start believing you're all you have. Start believing you don't need people to understand you, except for one. You. And see how the world around you changes. Don't rely on anyone to share your thoughts. Be strong enough to decide for yourself. And if you're unsure about what you're supposed to do, scour inside of you, instead of outside, to find someone who can help you. Look into the mirror, and instead of seeing the despicable being, change your perceptions and awe at the making of someone who is so similar to you. Let the essence of your soul course through your veins, to all parts of your beautiful being. Be in your body, not only in your head.

"Find ecstacy within yourself. It's not out there. It's in your innermost beauty. The one you are looking for is you. You just don't know it."
                                                                                                                    - Anonymous Outlet

Depths of Darkness.

Where would you stand, with all that might?

When it’s him who conquers, based on your fright.

Exhausted in bed, strewn by midnight,

That’s when he comes, and smothers you tight.

Yet in the morning, too unfortunate to be dead,

You still wake up, abandoning the bed.

Disinterest building, the words are said,

‘Good morning’, you say, with apathy you’re fed.

He prepares your obituary, while you conquer the world,

And lays out the master-plan, while the cappuccino is swirled.

Thoughts pacing through, you’re unwillingly quiet,

That’s when his plan ends, with you being obiit.

You’re about to sleep, and he shows up,

He relentlessly stifles you, you drop the coffee cup.

When it hits you, the nightmare, you wake up screaming,

‘Son of a bitch’, you say, and realise you were dreaming.

‘He’s gone’, you think, with your intestines frightened,

‘It’s my mind’, you say, with your senses enlightened.

You’re unaccompanied next night, ‘cause he’s preparing in his lair,

So that next time he can bring you a darker despair.

Fall.

Fall, if you think this life has nothing in store for you.
Fall, if you think you will never be able to make a dent in the universe.
Fall, if all that ever made you stronger was failure.
Fall, if all you ever cared about has turned to inconspicuous dust.
Fall, if you've thrown away everyone close to you.
Fall, if you believe the disdainful alter-ego in that broken mirror is the only one who understands you.
Fall, if the odious and despicable demons in the dark do not frighten you.
Fall, if the only voice speaking to you are the cryptic whispers unbearable to the world.
Fall, if elegies are the only melodies left in your life.
Fall, if you believe the light will incinerate your eyes if the clock ticks once more.
Fall, if you're repulsed by life and too unfortunate to be dead.
Fall. And don't expect to meet the end.

You don't want to..

The Man Who Thought Different.

I went to Crosswords today. Was bored as hell. And another thing. Sick of fiction. Crosswords usually has these 'Top 10' best-sellers in a section, mostly somewhere near the entrance. So I started browsing through the section, with a number of books hypothetically brawling for my attention. Most of them were biographies. Aamir Khan, Shahrukh Khan, Rahul Gandhi, Steve Jobs. Due to my recent oh-fuck-I-didn't-get-into-any-college hassle and because of my amblyopic vision of undetermined future, my Dad advised me to 'find myself'. "Don't let your soul rest", he said. "And for that", he said, "you'll need to read Biographies of people who have risen out of the grimy rubble". So I did just that. Actors' lives didn't interest me much, and I had no zeal for a politician. So I settled for Steve Jobs. I decided it'd be a good pick 'cause I didn't know much about the guy, anyway. So I opened the book. And as I read past the first word, I couldn't stop. An inspirational story of an adopted college drop-out, who loved to mortify people in public, simply because he believed whatever they did could've been done better. A vegetarian Buddhist, who travelled to India in search of enlightenment, but his restless soul didn't let him find any. So he went back, built the Macintosh to start with, and gradually changed the world. He used to go to conferences wearing nothing but boxers and slippers, for crying out loud. Guy had the balls. I'll give him that. But he was a fucking visionary. I didn't think the book would have such a significant influence on me, but it did. Some liquid dropped out of my eyes when I finished reading the book. No, bastards, I wasn't crying. It left me wondering, with just one question pondering restlessly in my mind, and which I'm asking you right now.

What have you done to make the world or anyone around you, remember you?