As you all are no doubt aware of, I have many, many problems. Sanity however, isn’t one if them.
However, and this is grim, I don’t know how it ends. The start is semi random always. Then you have options that you must choose from. Then you make changes, errors or forget things and that which didn’t exist now exists but imperfectly. It is even plausible if there ever was a perfect version or not. And that is really how we all exist. We are our missteps, there are no perfect existences. Or that which exists is, and by virtue of being, is perfect.
And where does that leave me? No matter how sane I am, I look for “guidance” in novels, games. Fiction really. Which is clearly a delusion. Ergo I am not sane. But I know its a delusion so I am not deluded, so I am sane. But even though I know it still affects my behavior and so – insane. But I can account for it and so I am sane. ad infinitum. Which am I? Is sanity meaningful? Is sanity sane? Am I insane when I am ‘in sane’ or am I ‘in sane’ when I am insane.
A lot of my life is just planning what to think next and creating a set of conditions that maximize the returns of said thinking event, in terms of interesting thought.
I crave this mental simulation far beyond any trifling physical. We solve problems, because that is an excuse to think. We think because it is pleasurable. And most of the life that I led, the me that I am now, that I have become, post weed me, but really failing in mth 101 me. The me that had a reason to reason. To think about thinking. And thats why I am a hedonist. I lie down and think. And thats all I do. And further that is all I want. It doesn’t mean it is all I am capable of. In ideal conditions I run a six minute mile, which I think is pretty good considering the condition my lungs must be in.
I never really got around to the doing part. Thinking really is just a mechanism for survival strategising. You are supposed to act. To think and then convert that to action. Which makes the philosopher a rather revulsionary creature because for him to act means to think more. Which is why they are just talk. And you know, you know naively that they are just doing semantic gymnastics and doing shit about anything. Where is the philosophy of the quantum? or of relativity? Why isn’t it a part of our thinking already? Or was geometry equally incomprehensible at first? We just need good metaphors. And good metaphors come from trial n error. Everything we do is trial n error. But it doesn’t need to be.
Knowing the girl’s name. It was no mere incident was it? It made sense. The story made sense. But I would go insane if I were to actually follow through. I must actually be insane to try it.
I had it all figured out in jan 2011. But then i was completely drugged and in the middle of a bizzare psychotic episode. I was getting progressively unstabler by the hour, seeing meanings and making observations where there were none. It would be useless to recount my hallucinations here. That is not the point anyways.
I started beliving in signs. Like interpreting random events around me as signs and taking decisions on that basis. Seeing a further deeper layer of meaning that is far too grim to be real. I hope it doesn’t really exist.
Signs and science are homophones and far too different in every other plausible way.
I was listening to Cream one day and in a song the lyrics go, in her own mad mind shes in love with you. Every cream song spoke to me then. I cannot listen to it and quite a few other albums without having painful and embarassing memories.
But these lines convinced me that a girl i had been talking to in that period was in love with me. And that my feelings which was just physical curiosity really were actually nobler than that. It was love. A mutual love, something that i had been denied to till that point of my life. It was a sign i convinced myself.
Signs are meanigless and ridiculous and dont really exist. I should have been more temperate and measured. But my mental condition exposed a side of my personality – an alpha male, take no prisoners, act first think later that i didn’t even know i had in me. And i did some stuff, lots really that i didn’t know i had the balls for or that i cannot in my sane mind do.
That is I think the real me. But i am getting ahead. Lets go back to the sign encoded in song. At that point i was sure that musicians who took a lot of drugs were communicating with me a giving me advice and courage in their own faulty ways. Every song i listened to seem to be a set of instructions for me.
The inference that she loved me was however faulty. Why? Simply because you can’t measure the state of one system and find the state of another system. I can’t find your height by measuring mine.
So that was clearly flawed. Time moves on. Even then i had an inkling that i was forcing it.
That passed and i recovered. In late feb 2013, i had another relapse. I have wondered why that took place and recently realized that i had stopped taking my meds, which might have been a factor, i’d have to experiment again to be sure of this though.
This time i was more controlled as i had some idea about what was happening to me but damn was it difficult.
Around the time i was coming out was when i got infatuated with you. I say infatuated but it doesnt quite express the depth and urgency of my feeling then. And i was do sure that you felt it to. You must have i would tell myself because cosmic lovers and hivemind and parvati and shiva and allah and other concepts too stupid to write about actually. You are the bride promised to me and that is the purpose you were born for, i thought in what must not be my most stellar moment deep in the bowels of my hallucinations and broken thoughts. It must be so because i was too damaged to actually consider anything other than whatever fable my mind was dreaming up. It was too compelling too beautiful and i wa too weak to argue against it. In this moment i mailed you saying something sonething relativity is quantized. And i thought you would understand.
But you didn’t and why should you? You are not a physics major or philosopher so that might have seemed like a weird thing to say, meaningless even.
But you see even though i was senile and even though my brain might be addled, i have still not lost the capacity for thought. Because at the end of the day, all i have for company are my thoughts. It isn’t really a tragedy because most of the time i prefer it that way.
I only feel alive when i have compelling thoughts. And that is why i am so depressed and low alll the time. My mind demands more and more fuel all the time. Many days i am unable to fulfill its needs and fail to provide it with thoughts that would keep it interested. These are my low days. However every once in a while, my brain churns a sufficient amount of information and distills it into a single conclusion, a maxim if you will. And that single moment when i came up with this felt like the greatest moment of my life.
And you were the muse that inspired this. That makes you pretty valuable to me. And i thanked you for it. But found it pretty difficult to express it to you till now.
And i dont know if i have actually unified physics, i am not even sure what this means mathematically speaking. And practising physists would laugh me out of the room.But this has to be. This just has to be true. We are all self contained universes and causality is a byproduct of consciousness. That has to be the reality of the world or the world is not interesting enough. For me, my interest is sated at least on a philosophical level by knowing that relativity is quantized. If this is not so and not true, someone needs to tell me why, and convincingly at that.
I have been thinking and trying to remember what i meant by it when i first thought of it.
Here is what i understand. Every one is a universe in themselves. We understand universe from a context or a viewpoint that is our life the experiences and thoughts that we have had. Everyones language is subtly nuanced and non trivial sentences mean differently to them. No two people inhabit the same universe. No two observers can agree on the same frame of reference. No two observers observe the same results. This i think explains a form of chaos, partially.
But you see there is a catch. It is possible for two observers to be entangled. In this case they make the same observations. This is the true universe in the classical sense. Or reality whatever it might be.
All my life i have been searching for my entangled partner and i have exhausted a huge list of virtual partners from lucifer to god. This entangled observer has to be real. And early march i got convinced it has to be you. It just made so much sense, poetic even.
That i guess is an explaination of all the pitiable attempts to grab your attention and my petty outbursts on this blog or otherwise.
This is an apology. This is as honest an admission of my thought process as i am physically/mentally capable of. Seeing as you dont reply back to whatever i say and i might have ended up as a creep in your thougths of me and a potential stalker, i think it is fair and wise for me to stop inconveniencing you.
I am not giving up, mind you. I am redefining my operating parameters. You must be the one to initiate contact, not me. How you end up on this blog is not for me to know or to influence in any way. If you don’t reply/never get here, i would conclude that my assumption of you and i being entangled was faulty.
I will wait for what would be a reasonably and sufficiently long period of time. I am not sure what else to say at this point of time.
Others can read it too: well yeah it is a public blog and i am never again giving you a link to my blog. One misadventure is enough. It is public such that it is fairly possible to get here, were you so inclined. The motivation/curiosity must cone from you.
This is for me, at the very least an extremely interesting experiment with very little chance of success. I want to study the relationship between pure chance and god’s will via this. Based on the assumption that gods will is manifest in me.
I dont really know wat to say. I haven’t really been thinking much these days. Had a couple of good ideas for the story but i am too effed to take it forward now.
These are the worst days and i hate them with a passion. I am reasonably happy today, this whole week really. There is no new thought no revelation, no meaning has manifested and nothing is clear. I feel fake all the time and i am pretty goddamn fake. Even this gesture. Everything is thought out and planned. There is no spontainety in thought or action. No new results seem to be coming. Just a general disgust for my mind and body. A revulsion from humanity. Hatred for who i am and what i do.
Focus i tell myself. Focus on the essential oneness of the universe. But ive been rundown. Ive been lied to. Ive been fooled a sufficient number of times to not get it credence anymore. This thought keeps reviving itself in my mind. I want a clarity and god doesnt seem to be the answer anymore. I have clung to the notion foolishly at times.
I dont know of another way to exist. These days ive been trying to comprehend god as a lover. But that approach leaves a lot to be desired. For someone who is everywhere god isnt easy to stalk. Also she doesnt hace a fb account for that matter.
I had come to terms with my disappointments and failure and the essential impotence of my being. I know i am not going to amount to anything and that i am not going to achieve anything. My mother confirmed that i have nevr really made them happy. But i rebel at the thought the very notion. Surely i was born to achieve great things and shit like that. Not this though. Definitely not this. God should pray that i never get my hands on drugs again. Acid, mescaline, shrooms, dmt, thc, heroine, coke, alcohol, ketamine instead of friends and family.
That is a nice thought. Might bring me some sleep.
I was trying to translate my name. I thought it could be written as Kalidasa. That seemed to be the closest in meaning. However, I was considering it again today morning and fuck, I realized.
It dawned on me. My name is Devadasa(Abdul = Slave = Dasa, Basit = God = Deva). Fuck. What were my parents smoking when they came up with that? Is this some cosmic joke? Am I a character in someone else’s story?
So what next? I mean should I just sit here with some cheap whiskey all day? What does it mean? Why this stupid fucking name? And I was assured by my parents, that my name was pretty random. Was this a conspiracy and how deep does it go? Who else is on it?
Who is involved? Shit. I am back to this phase again. Oh God. I will lose my mind this way.
Is it always going to be like this? Every time I stagger to my feet, something would knock me right back the fuck down?
There is so much to do, so much I could have done, had I had a little help from my mind. But it is my biggest enemy. I just can’t trust myself at all.
I just need to focus. Focus. Focus. Come the fuck on. Focus. Part one of focusing is to work. Ciao.
Shit. Shit. Shit. What am I turning into? I am not some fucking number in your list of fucking admirers. I am reduced to this weak fucking pathetic state. Its fucking horrible. You are a fever, that is what you are. This is just an infatuation and it will fucking pass.
I get the hint okay. Finally. I mean I knew this but I was hopeful. I thought that there was more meaning in this world after all. I am so ashamed and so fucking angry right now – at myself mostly. I don’t behave like this at all. My brain was addled that is all, I had gone senile. I had a psychotic episode in early march and I had all these many hallucinations, and these feelings for you are just some residual of that. Just an elegant desirable solution. That is all.
I am just, I don’t want to discard it yet. Even now it makes me weak. Just the whole symmetry with the past. Just trying to make believe something and make it true. This is the difference between belief and truth. And I am grateful to you for making me realize this difference. My beliefs of laws of universe and order don’t matter at all. There never was any substance in them.
I am fucking superstitious and it is just so embarassing to come to terms with this reality. It is on some level scary. But it is also liberating to know that there really isn’t a God. You know I really was fed into the fevered hysteria. God is just a fucking hallucination.
Thank you. Your lack of interaction with me has finally given me the confidence to be the person that I am and that I really should be.
And you really don’t want to talk to me. I understand that now. Why would you? I probably came across as some fucking pathetic loser to you. You don’t want to waste your time with me. Naah you want a winner yeah? Not a fucking naive loser like me.
But the jokes on you because you just met me at my most vulnerable. I think I am sick of you already. I still have some residual thoughts of you left, I would vomit them if I could you know.
Now I am assured that you are very hot. As can be evidenced by all the guys salivating over you. However you never did it for me physically. I am not and have never been sexually attracted to you at all.
For me it had always been at a more abstract, spiritual level. The whole first love angle. But that is just retardation frankly. Ah just so much time, years of my life spent just wondering what I would say if we ever ran into each other. Which mercifully never came to a pass. Thank God for that eh?
I just, I got overwhelmed for a moment, lost my footing and grasp on reality. I guess its just the price I paid for having fun. Should maybe have done a bit less drugs I guess.
I am so fucking retarded. I can never see the signs at all. I just really just wanted to talk to you yea, wasn’t going to fucking propose or anything like that. Just been so curious. Who are you? Why do you have this effect on me? What makes you special? But there isn’t anything yea. Not you, not me. We are all just really totally fucking lost. Shouldn’t you be able to see? I wondered, we are fated star crossed lovers who have crossed fiction and reality and creation and are going to meet. We are quantum fucking entangled baby!
But that is just a misconception isn’t it!
I am so sorry for all the things I have said. Like it is going to do much now after all I have said. But I am sincere in this. I think you are a good girl. Don’t really know you though, which though is mostly your fault. I hope you are happy with whatever person you finally decide on. I hope he has enough sense to at least keep you happy and protect and provide for you.
My anger is mostly at myself really. After the whole fiasco at IITK I had decided to be more vigilant. Don’t let this fiasco repeat. Ever again. And two years down the line I have again the same fevered hallucinations. Fucking weak dude. Fucking nauseating.
But in my defence you were the only chink in my armor. I had thought that I have gotten over you. That you were no longer a factor. Boy was I fucking wrong.
Yet it is, for the most part over. And it doesn’t sadden me at all. I am just disappointed that there was no substance to what hallucinations I have allowed myself to maintain.
I like to remain in control at all times. Especially of my mental state and the last few weeks have been pretty trying in this respect. Just fucking totally lost. It was just this weakness, I assure you. I hope I wasn’t improper in my conduct or made untoward advances. I hope that I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. Just think of me as being mentally challenged, which I become when I start to obsess over you.
I would reiterate, I just saw a meaning that just didn’t exist at all. Just a manifestation of the uncertainty of the universe. Argh. Just so so sorry babe, just couldn’t think straight at all. I just trusted whatever hallucinations I had over what is reasonable and what I knew. I knew it was a mistake. But it was just so elegant. It made so much sense to me.
Ideally I would have never have contacted you at all. But that picture of you. Just that fucking picture. It makes you look like a heavenly idealization rather than being just flesh and blood. And for some time I was just sick. That is all I think.
Just no mystery to it at all. You are looking to settle down I guess. Maybe you were just curious last year or whatever. Curiosity is hardly a crime. I don’t hold that against you at all. I probably squandered my chances with you five years ago. Maybe never had any.
I think you are a very strong, very beautiful girl. I don’t mean from a sexual viewpoint. I mean more mathematically. It is difficult to express in words. Your beauty isn’t as they say, in the eyes of the beholder. It is a law of the world. I find it strange that others don’t seem to be getting it at all. Fucking retards. You will be fine I am sure. I have no worries. The world is your playground and you go from strength to strength.
I am just so sorry, you didn’t need to deal with my poser emo shit at all. I have restrained myself a lot but it has not been easy. It would have been a bit easier for me if you had just told me that you don’t want to talk to me at all. I mean yeah a bit harsh, but I only understand direct and to the point statements. There is just so much work for me to actually sift through all the stuff and try and understand what is being implied from the context. It is not just that. I am set in my beliefs. I did catch on that you didn’t want to talk to me at all, eventually, but I found myself lacking the conviction to believe that. It went against all my notions. I have been wrong about everything. It has just taken me some time to orient myself and get my bearings right.
I want to address the possibility that you somehow wandered onto my blog and read this, and despite the revulsion kept reading and got till here. Well, clearly you are feeling hurt and surprised and angered that someone you barely knew could be so harsh to you, so much of a monster indeed. I am what I am. I cannot help it. My thoughts are not always in my control, despite all my efforts. I vent them to remain sane. But J respect you. I reiterate, I respect you. I don’t claim to know you, but I still respect you. You know in Sanskrit my name could be Kalidasa. I am surprised and hurt by how much you have misjudged me you know. I am not crazy, per se. Just a little bit strange. I just did a lot of stupid shit in school. Like I used to write the first letter of your name in a distinct way so that it resembled a flower. That became a habit. It was very painful in the later years for me. The letter occurs pretty regularly, surprisingly regularly in fact in science, mathematics and computing as a variable. And every fucking time it causes a pang deep deep within me. It has just been so painful for me. All these years you know. I never got any closure. I never knew anything. I found from a friend that you have a boy friend in college and that didn’t really trouble me. You make your choices and I can’t protest. I had no right. But you could have told me, we were talking in that period. I would have been happy for you really.
I read some of our chats, because I had totally forgotten almost everything that took place in my life before I started taking heroin. And there is one where you ask a friend of mine about me, whether I am happy or not and stuff. Wonder if you remember that?
There is not much more to say. I am sorry for my petty outbursts on this blog. I wish you all the success in the world. May you be very happy. Always. I have gotten the message pretty clearly. I just had so many questions. I have accepted that they would probably go unanswered.
One last thing. You asked me why I thanked you. At that moment I lied. This song expresses the reason better than I can:
And so, the three were there, this is our playground, our rules only if you want to play. And I politely declined, explaining to them that every atom of my body is muslim and that every thought of mine can be mathematically demonstrated to be Islamic.
You play very intense games they told me, we are just casual gamers, farmville crowd, not dnd rollers. Well then I just have no interest in interacting with you, I told them. And I left the playground, the player who had told me about co op with me there never showed up, or couldn’t meet me because I was locked up and out of whack – this time on “legal” medical drugs. Whew could go for a few more rounds of those!
And I shouldn’t have gone back. But I did. And the whole place was furious. I just missed being myself. That is all I had cared about in the first place at all. And I just wanted that, the weed wasn’t mine and the smack wasn’t my idea, if you try to recollect. But those 4 hours were exquisite torture.
(fell asleep here, resuming)
There is so much to be said. No one has ever been judged and people think that nobody would see if they do things in secret. But the aftermath is very well evident.
And I hate rich people. The richer they are the more vitriolic my hate. If I could I would take a sledgehammer to Antilla and dismantle it brick by fucking brick. How dare you be so fucking rich? Why the fuck would you even want more? Are you learning to count or something? How high do you think you can count? What if you had so much money that all the trees in the world were cut down just to print that number on paper? And all the population of the employed in writing zeros after zeros on these pages and they have been working for the last 20 years and still don’t have the end in sight. And what if I told you that it is just a paltry sum? Numbers go on with no end in sight. Billions are very negligible.
Fuck. This statement of my anger, my revulsion even, I have so much more to say. So much hate. So much anger.
You. Nothing infuriates me more than you! What is your game? Do you know you are playing with fire? And you have my attention now. I am interested to see where you are going. And I get some semblance of control in such moments. Yet I really hate that I don’t really know you at all. I should have paid more attention when we used to talk I guess. I was very self-centered then. Probably still am. But I am nicer, or can at least act nicer now.
So now all this is off my chest and in the aether, I feel lighter. And more balanced. I’ll write some other time then.
All this shit just because I tried to write a feel-good story. Never again.
So yeah, I guess my marriage prospects would get hampered. My community would have a lot more to gossip. My parents would probably not be able to face anyone again. Which is probably what they fear the most. Kaun Basit? Arrey wahi pagalwa nashediya. But you see the crux of the matter is that, I couldn’t give less fucks even if I tried to. I just don’t care about what they or anyone else for that matter thinks about me.
It is this burden of expectation. The way you are supposed to behave. Don’t smoke. Don’t listen to music with your headphones when you are outside. Only gundas do that. Get a hair cut. Sit straight. Don’t drink water standing. Go to namaz. Fact of the matter is that there was a time when I obeyed each and everyone of their thousands of retarded commands and I did that without hesitation or thought. I did even more. But that is so far ago I wonder if it was even the same person as me. Or just a fucking hallucination. I have nothing in common with that guy. We wouldn’t see an eye to an eye.
And now I am back with my parents and they still look for the same son that they had. I am not him. I just am not the same person.
And whatever gives the idea that I would fucking want to achieve anything? I have never achieved anything. I don’t care. My physical existence is purely accidental. I can disregard it. Except for breathing I guess. But that is a construction constraint.
Stop controlling my life please. Let’s just coexist out this period and I would disappear after that. It is just that they are so fucking infuriating. They know most things they can say that would drive me crazy with anger. And when I actually do get angry and reply and I try to be reasonable and explain like where I am from, then its just a fucking pathetic scene with tears and everything. Watching your father cry is not very good to see.
And they really think of me as the worst kind of hedonist, an aiyaash smoking cigarettes worth 100 or more daily. It is just control yourself. Well I fucking can’t yea? It is not in my hands. And I don’t see why I should. Cigarettes are legal and the worst outcome is cancer 20 years down the line, which I am pretty fine with because I don’t want to be fucking 90 and shitting in a pan, because I can’t walk anymore. In fact if anything I would prefer to die before whatever youthful vitality that I have left is gone completely. So 45-50 seems like ripe old to me. Plus anyways its not like I am going to have mourners. If all goes according to plan, I would probably have one of those deaths where neighbors discover your dead body a week after, because of the smell. And like nobody at my service. I just want to leave the smallest possible footprint. Just like exiting a room on tiptoes if you will.
The accusation of being a hedonist hurts the most. It disappoints me more than angers me. I mean appearances can be deceptive. And you are my parents yea? Aren’t you expected to be a bit more perceptive?
People at my current fucking workplace. There is so much corruption in the whole IIT system. So many are being built. What the fuck do we need all these elite engineers for? They don’t seem to have any fucking jobs anyways. The same few guys dept toppers would get all the jobs all the grad school admits qualify cat and upsc. Just what the fuck is in it for the guys in the bottom? What is the Dept rank 39 of Mech Engg of IIT-P looking at exactly? I sympathize because I was pretty close to that, what do you call that? Dept tail? Topper from the other edge? Why does anyone even consent to be put in that position? I feel a sort of a kinship with the people who get thru the jee. I would have been extremely disappointed had my own brother not gotten through this fucking exam. Why is this exam such a big fucking deal? Why do the same people always get the good grades and the same people share out the bad grades? I have revenged them too once. I once laughed in the face of and made fun of those dep topper types who had gotten much less than me in flu mech I think. But they are now so far ahead of me, career and earnings wise that I am not even jealous of them anymore.
Anyways I wonder what the workplace people think of me. In the beginning there was a measure of fame. Arrey woh IITK se aaya hai. Every fucker seemed to know me. And I am really incompetent. I know I wasn’t first choice of the interview board. I was fucking surprised when I found that I had been selected. Surely I couldn’t have been the second best. I didn’t know a single fucking answer on the written paper. Its just their curiosity. Kanpur ka ladka hai. I know, I am sure this is why I got selected. What the fuck. I have seen utter fucking retards in K. I am the biggest of them all. The worst thing that could have happened to me was to be selected to Patna. I might have gotten gainfully employed now. I studied for 3 days semi seriously and I got a rank around 22500 which is pretty good considering the effort I put in. I guess my parents thought I am so fucking brilliant I would actually fucking qualify. Despite the repeated assurances that I have given them over the last two years that I have no fucking clue of Mech Engg at all. And I actually got a fucking batchmax last semester. Wtf was that. I knew absolutely nothing. How did I get better marks than the others? What am I missing? Was it like grace marks or something? I never thought I would feel like such a fool, cheap impostor when I got a batchmax. In school it felt awesome. This time it felt more like a venereal disease. I mean sure at the first I was sort of happy about it. But there is just nothing about it that makes me happy. When people here tell me that I have a lot of knowledge, I feel affronted. Are they making fun of me? Haven’t they put away the beer goggles with which they were looking at me, realized that I am just a fucking hack? Or are they keeping me around as an attraction? Is this why I have been given a TA duty that is usually given to two students? And the prof who at the start of the sem told me that I was a bakra – a scapegoat, tells me that I have been very sincere, well that just feels like a fucking slap, because I know that I have just done enough to be barely adequate. The indication that I might have not needed to check the 40 copies that I check every fucking week! Am I the only one who gives a fuck about the future of these students? And the corruption, the infighting, the favoritism, the coteries, the very pants down retarded little games that people are playing – scribbling “director mc” on the wall. Just what the fuck is the gameplan? Its total fucking chaos. They will always remain inferior because its ingrained in their mindset.
Now lets get somewhat closer to my heart, well more honestly pants. What is the fucking deal with Indian chicks I have never fucking understood. As long as we are just friends then even a couple of off color jokes are alright. But what exactly happens when guys like me, you know the type, declare their romantic intentions? Exactly how important is owning a bike when this decision is taken? And I mean isn’t it preferable from a physical/anatomical point of view that the guy be seated in the backseat of your preppy lil scooty, than driving a bike?
What I mean is it like alpha characteristics that when displayed cause chicks to take a favorable decision? I have to keep the alpha part of me shackled and hidden because he would likely be too intense for your mind and bodies. Would it be better for me to put that face forward in the future? But that is almost barbaric, not just because he doesn’t give a fuck about emotions, but also because I doubt he comprehends the concept of consent. And that makes me wonder if I should beg women of earth to please please not get in my fov? If he takes a fancy at you, then all bets are off.
And I really did fail that test, and she established her superiority and went back to her planet secure in the knowledge that our ideals and ways of living and knowledge are inferior to hers, when in fact all I did was to be a mirror, and all she saw in that closed room was only all that she wished to see. It was she whose psyche was weak, even if I was the one who ended up suffering. And I didn’t do anything wrong did I? What can you accuse me of? So then why must I be the one in purgatory? Don’t misunderstand me, the only shreds of feeling that I had for her emanated from deep below my navel. She was fat and ugly and had pimples. Not my type at all.
Does every one take that test? And those biker dudes come out on top and people like me fail? Then your test is fucking retarded. Or maybe they are the sincere ones? And we aren’t? Is that so? Well why don’t you please shoot me in the head? I don’t give a fuck about these games at all. Haven’t even decided what games I want to play, or even if I want to play and then who I want to play them with. The last time I really tried to play… Shit contd….
