Yet another lonely night basking in the glow of the laptop screen in a dark room. I need to get into the mood for spewing out the mental excretion of my words. So, I need some angry music to roll. "Planets Collide" by "Crowbar" will do.
If emotions are like prisoners, my mind could be the equivalent of Guantanamo Bay where they could be tortured and violated. I am slightly amused by the mental imagery of my conscience water-boarding the bottled emotions in my head. Screw this; the song I was listening to is already over. Time to turn up the nostalgia knob and return to my teenage angst filled days of listening to "Morbid Angel". I can imagine you already regretting reading this far to only find a pretentious jerk dropping band names in this puke of text already lacking coherence and any ounce of substance. Returning to the walk beside the stinking Bagmati river of my emotions, I find it hard to describe my state of mind.
The near half-decade of my time spent in the land of the free has been a journey filled with moments ranging from liberating to downright depressing. But then so does every other Nepali pretending to chase the notion of the American Dream™. However, my personal experience relies mostly on the people I have encountered. One of the major stars in the sitcom of my life I recall is the girl who pretended to like me but inadvertently utilized basic supply-demand economics of Nepali male:female ratio to ditch me for another dude without offering even the humiliation of a proper break up. Maybe that was the karma for the few times in the shady college town club drunkenly grinding with female strangers before meeting her. The years of being friend-zoned by girls for being the nice guy however seem to carry no points. The guilt of carrying the baggage of futile attempts to discover a soul mate can only be cured if my acquaintances could discover and despise me, the author of this blasphemy. I would be doing great injustice if I leave out the wonderful individuals who expressed genuine friendship and kindness despite my general indifference. On the other hand they have enslaved me in the realization that I will never be able to repay their debt. Ultimately, I find myself overpowered by self-loathing which is stronger than any act of kindness or treachery.
Time is the only thing that truly matters in the grand design of the universe and even that seems to be slipping away from my hand like sand escaping the nooks and corners of a lightly clenched fist.
Last edited: 15-Dec-10 04:50 AM
