Tears of Mind

I am clearly not normal. There are tears in the fabric of my mind. Great rotting holes in my thoughts. Sample this:

I step out from office reasonably ok. I have had a pretty good day at work. I have been feeling quite happy. I am calm. I step out. Joby makes a remark about me not not being grumpy today. That triggers it off. My mind retaliates. I say “that the day is not over yet.” I walk down. My mind is still not bad. And then at the signal she asks me a question about what Hemant said when he called. I don’t feel like answering that question – repeating what I told Dazy already again to her. I don’t know why. But I hell like don’t want to answer that question. I try to shrug off the question but she is persistent. And the monster that lurks deep within breaks loose. In the surface view that most normal people view others from, they will not understand what can possibly change my mind like that. But it does.

At the auto another chanceless remark about “it being 5 ‘o’ clock” and it rages me further. Yet inside, in the auto, I chat easily with the auto driver. Why this rage against just one person? What is it about her that makes me a fused coil of hurtful vengeance? Again, on the bus, I calm again enough on the bus to send a SMS about loving her. I reach. Walk down. And then I lose it again when I find how much she spent for bloody photos. 1200. I have no control anymore.

Especially when I hear tears in the voice of another. I can’t. It is not that I don’t feel anything but that I don’t feel at all then. I am a non-existent flesh of lumpish blood tearing away at the carcasses of the other’s wounds. I delight in paining. I love the pain. Why? Because in that pain I degrade myself. I love my degradation. I love my ruin. Why? I don’t believe in my redemption. The faster I can dissolve into a chaos the bliss that the Buddha spent lifetimes searching for is mine. If my mind can no longer process life and the people who populate it, what else is left but bliss? I say things to Joby that I mean. She churns me up in ways that I don’t fathom. Precisely because she is so deeply affected by everything I say. I don’t need that. It becomes a lost battle then. I want to be challenged. I want to know that I can’t affect this person no matter what rotten filth I hurl at her – is my madness not enough? When I see that my actions affect more, I plunge harder with a manacle of jarred words.

I desire strength. I desire people who can take me – not treat me with gentleness alone but show steely grit. When I know that nothing I do or say will shake that person, won’t I stop trying? When I don’t obtain the pain I desire to inflict in another I stop trying. Pain in another moves me. It motivates me to act worse. It is like morphine. It is addictive. I love that. I thrive on that. It is the path to my ruin. I love my ruin. Can’t you understand that? When I don’t obtain pain but instead face a wall of resoluteness – I am lost. My mind can no longer find its viciousness. In minutes I am back. I won’t find my ruin. Slowly, I will realize that inflicting pain on another won’t bring me my ruin that I crave. I will choose some other method for my ruin. Or I may choose to live. Let life give me reasons to live. Let it show me beauty in people. I am tired of the sham, the pretense, the mockery – I choose to live cruelly. Show me kindness. I will choose it if it redeems me. Make me sin…then I continue to sin. But make me suffer before I obtain the release of pain. Make suffer please – resist. Resist. Resist. And you will help me more than any tears. My tears will not be rotten holes anymore.

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