The descent into hell does not start anyhow, anytime. It starts when you sleep at 3 every night and wake up at 10.30 every next morning. Groggy eyed, sleep deprived and for many reasons still dreaming. The use of word dreaming here is rudimentary, since there have been no established records of the word nightmaring. For all sense and purposes, dreams, whether good and bad, can be described with only the simple five letter word that has come to be the symbol of numerous values. Ambiguity of such level is not a surprising thing in our lives. Specially if you sleep at 3 and wake up at 10.30 next morning.
When you wake up next morning, your senses are numb. It takes time to get through things. Even bath is not enough to awaken you to life. In practice, a doctor can operate on your appendix, or a dentist can perform root canal on you, without you undergoing any considerable duress. Time though does not wait with fanciful eyes to streamline itself with your movements. And you realize that by the time you have actually managed to get the paste on the right side of the brush, half of the day has gone. And you have been at the achieving end of nothing. Thing is, in reality you are at achieving end of nothing. Half a day going by in utter unawareness is not a big failure.
You try to remember the means and forms of debauchery you committed last night. The revelry, or whatever it was that took you to stay up till 3, was, by mere definition an excuse to escape.
Escape truth. Escape failure. Escape your utter helplessness in the face of a relentless and unsparing world which is hell bent on screwing you as much as it can and make your life a misery.
You are a victim. Of yourself. And of the world.
And to escape the failure of victimization you inflict pain. Alcohol is only the first step to this. Unending porn, unscrupulous stalking of people you don’t know or care for on social networking sites, hideous amount of self loathing you generate by leeching and staring at other people’s good fortune, comparing the same with your bad one, wallowing in self pity and waiting. Hopelessly, senselessly waiting for the page to turn on its own and the ink to drip on the page and form legible characters to define your destiny and make sure your dreams come alive.
And there it is. Its 3. You are devoid of dreams since you spent it while waiting for things to work out on their own. And when your body, dripping with tiredness of running an asphyxiating marathon you ran sitting on your place, you drop down on anything you can find to drop on to, and fall unconscious to the utter failure of the world around you.
Next day, just like all the others, will be the same.
And it will go on repeating itself, a universe after universe, all having a meaning of its own. Or maybe not.
Everything in your life is a bunch of dissatisfactions.
Your friends dissatisfy you. They cannot work the way you want them to work. They are not yours to command. They are artificial, disloyal and most importantly, out there to harm you and inflict pain on your way by any means possible.
Your lovers are disappointing. The lovemaking is pathetic. The sex, if any, is short lived. The romance is restricted to look at each other lustily in the event of feeling, what is colloquially termed; horny. You are out to change everything about that person. Bend him to your submission and derive the pleasure out of his pain. You do not like him/her. You are in reality, practicing S & M on a constant basis. A fetish which has no end, and whose only means is to find another way to either get punished or punish the other one in some way.
You cannot like anyone since you dot cannot accept what you are. You do not want what that person gives you. Nothing is enough.
Like Oliver Twist, you always want more.
And when you get it; more and more. And more. Till the time you are dead to any sensation of receiving or giving. Like a fat man dying of over-eating.
Your job is the biggest disappointment. You blame it for making your life hell. Your work is what makes you stay up late. Your work is what makes you rush to office early. Your work is the reason you are shabby, uncontrolled, directionless and clueless about what/where/why/how you are going anywhere in your life. You are just surviving, eating drinking, urinating, shitting, falling in and out of love just like you fall in and out of sickness. You live, destroy and eventually, die.
The world keeps on moving. And you watch it with crystallized eyes, wondering how it could be if you could be where others are.
But you are not, and will never be.
Because like a man watching signs of life on mars from earth, you are bound by the constraints of your world.
You have tied yourself to this planet and blame gravity for it. You have dreamed greatness and received peanuts and blamed destiny for it. You have thought of many things but done nothing and blamed luck for it. You have messed up the cotton ball and tied yourself in it and blame ignorance for it. You have set off the dominoes and they have all fallen down and you blame chance for it. You have closed your eyes to the reality and made your decisions watching your dreams, and then felt pained after the truth comes back, and blamed the truth for it.
You have blamed and done nothing about anything. And have conveniently forgotten about this.
Because you cannot blame anyone except for yourself for it.
The world rushes by. Your world rotates on Sitcoms and Moviestars. On sports Heroes and Pornstars. On Facebook, Wi-Fi, Twitter Board, FML, iMDb, lolsnaps, google, messenger, gtalk, youtube, torrentz, Garfield, reddit, digg and millions of other such places, where you wait in keen anticipation for another piece of information from another strangers life, with whom you have no relation, no contact, no chance of meeting or even talking, but you derive pleasure and happiness out of his miseries. You become sad and dismayed at his achievements. You feel eager and climaxed at the point of his climax. You are curious about his life, his sexual drives, his habits, his ambitions, failures, successes, and most importantly, his weaknesses.
So that it can be compared to yours.
You are, for all sense and purposes, molasses of frustration anger failure hopelessness and wrath of being misfortunate enough to be lazy.
The descent into hell is not easy.
It starts every night when you go to sleep at 3.
It ends every morning you wake up at 10.30.