The Masochist

Why is it that I need pain to keep my sanity? Why do I feel incomplete and wasted when there isn't anything to worry about in life? What is it about suffering that makes me feel special, better than the rest?

Maybe it's because I'm so used to having something to worry about all my life that it's so hard to let go and just live a normal life like everybody else. When there is no pain, I need to create it. I could easily let go of painful memories, give up on impossible dreams, and live in the here and now, which isn't altogether bad. But I'd rather relive each of those moments, hear every word, read every letter, keep hoping and wishing for things I know will never come true. I believe the process of pain purifies me, like a trial by fire. It sets me apart, because I know I will be strong, much stronger than anyone can guess. Suffering helps me believe in myself, and remind me of the hero I always wanted to see in myself. I need the pain to be able to reach deep into myself, know myself better.

Yes, I find pleasure in pain. Does that make me a masochist? Maybe. And does this masochism breed and nurture narcissism in me? Maybe. Either way, I don't really think I care all that much, because I'd much rather know me as me, not by definitions of some socially accepted stereotypes invented by society for their own convenience.

Born To Run

Sometimes you feel you're born to run, destined to be a physical and emotional nomad. You feel the need to move on, to leave behind yet another installment of life and start all over again somewhere new. You have perfected the art of detachment, and that of making temporary friends. You get a strange comfort in knowing that the people around them aren't going to be forever, just little longer. You've done nothing wrong, yet you feel the need to distance yourself from your past, to rebuild you life again. But there are some people you wish you didn't have to leave behind- a few real friends that you wish life wouldn't take away from you. But you can't be a nomad and keep friends forever. You have to let them go live their life, nestled in their perfect little worlds. You just brush the dust off your backpack and get back on the road. It does get lonely at times, changing worlds, restarting your life each time, but you learn to live with it. It's the only way you don't feel threatened by your surroundings, so you're not afraid you'll turn into your neighbour. You could try falling in love but that would probably want to make you run even worse. After all, how much heartbreak can you handle? Some call it fear of commitment, some call it instability. I call it life. For some of us are, indeed, born to run. And who ever said nomads don't enjoy life?

Gratitude: a sin?

Most religions try to impress upon us that it is our moral duty to help those in need and be generally kind to others all the time. Going by this philosophy, someone who is kind towards you is merely doing his duty, because by moral standards, he is bound to. If his copy of religious text had a misprint that said ‘punch thy neighbour’, he would have done so with equal zeal. Nobody is grateful to someone who is just doing his job (when was the last time you thanked your janitor for doing an "awesome job on the loo"?), so by feeling gratitude, you are acknowledging the fact that helping you was not his duty but something nice he did for you. And since religion would have it otherwise, you are, in fact, contradicting it, and hence are sinning. So the next time you say "Thank you" to someone, be prepared for the fires of hell!!! :-)    

A Crush

Your irresistible charm
Could even do you harm
So you better watch your step,
Step right over the cracks
You will smile at the world
From deep under your curls
While they're all watching you step
Stopped dead in their tracks

A peek into your thoughts
To understand is all I sought
And now you're walking your way
And I'm begging you to turn back
So what’s behind that perfect face
And that infallible grace
Could you be just a name
Is that the only stake you claim?