This has been a month of intense emotional roller-coaster, perhaps more than I have bargained for, perhaps more than I have imagined would ever happened to me. It's interesting thing that, upon hindsight, this month I have turned most prolific ever. I think it's because verbal vomiting is really a thing that has become ritualistic for me, almost spiritual even. Not that these unedited words spawned from my psychedelic stream of consciousness are in any way sacrilegious, but they do represent me, arguably, in the truest form, and hence the experience cathartic.
Sometimes the stuff I write are merely idle ventures taken out of boredom. Sometimes they are the products of overly sentimental lyricism which comes by once in a while at the whim of capricious hormones. Sometimes they become a sanctuary where I seek solace in the ambiguity. I do the last one because writing in this space is perhaps the only way that I can express myself to someone— or something— at any time in the day (or night). It is my ever-ready reservoir, if not black hole, that just takes in anything and everything that I can possibly say. I write in ambiguity at times because I'm not ready, and think that it's unnecessary, to share details to the world. At times it's because I want to address multiple issues at a go. At times it's because, well, I can do so, and I indulge in the literary enigma that is the end products.
Therefore it irks me considerably when others water down this endeavour into something that they think is the thing that I talk about. I can't prevent judgments from being passed, and to be honest, I can't give a shit. However, it bugs me when those self-created judgments demand me: to behave in a certain way, or to adopt a certain solution, or to throw everything out of the window— albeit in the subtlest manner. And it bugs me when others then promulgate to the world those fallacious, fantastical, farcical, fucked-up fathomations, and then unilaterally peg me to them. I hold my life in a clenched fist, and trust me, I am so much more than those cerebral capacities can ever conceive. Just keep those two cents, and give them when they are asked for. If it sounds as if I'm worked up, I'm really not. In fact, I'm rather pacified right now. So worry not, I'm alright.
