Different.

 So there was this kid, right? He was different. He realized that he actually had a different sort of affection towards who he thought was his best friend. His society told him not to ever let this secret love be known to anyone ever, for his own survival. He read this rich girl's blog which talked about a similar story. He was terrified of the outcome it predicted. He heard this guy tell the girl that her story was more or less a cliché. That terrified him even more. He became more of an introvert than he used to be.


                                                                                  He tried to change himself. He tried watching porn. Hardcore porn. He ended up downing stuff from kink.com. He was all the more scared. He mustered all his courage and tried to nail the house cook. He failed because
#1.he was a coward
#2.she was hideous
#3.he was gay

He tried many things to change his orientation. All those only enhanced them. He whined for something up his ass.

                                                               He felt his life come to a dead end. He felt boxed. No way out. Helplessness. Certain gloom awaiting him all his life. He felt himself trapped inside a cube of a room with no doors or windows but squishy walls. He tried to find a solution.


                                                                                           I'd fly to America. I'd live in the underworld. I'll hold myself together till I mature & get myself a sex partner as an errand boy or adopted son, or whatever. I'll blackmail people into having sex with me. Fuck this, I'll just hang myself.  No, I'll be a rebel. I'll fight this society till the last nerve of mine transmits pulse.


                                                                                                       But then again, he was just an eighteen year old pampered upper middle class kid with a pocket money of a couple of thousand Indian rupees and a couple more in some bank account in his name. With not even the courage to "end it all in a piece of rope" as the cliché goes.


                                                          His life was so far full of reset buttons and save points and invincibility shields and god modes. This was the first true test in life. He was an agnostic. That was the trend among the city kids at that time.


                   "Fuck you God, why did you bring this upon me? What wrong did I ever do to you to give me this kind of suffering? If you test your dearer the more do not count me your dearer....


                                                              I know this is not the effect of any string theory or butterfly effect. This is all your doing. You are chaos, you are the Devil. You just switch roles between the good guy and the bad guy. You with your plans unknown to us, You sexless pervert fucking with life's lives.




                         Why didn't you give me poverty? Chop off my limb? Give me AIDS? Why this unacceptable battle against society? Why did you put me down to a battle you knew I lost? "




                                                THE END

DIOS

And that is why I decided to try again. So the story ran...
...as the old man stared at the sky in front of him. He was perplexed. He was trying to figure out certain things.
Why did they still trust him? Why did they still believe in him, despite having no clue as to the nature of his justice of complicated logic that he administered to them? His conscience got hooked to that word. Logic. He pulled it with all his might. And it ripped itself off the hook with a wound.

He still thought. He thought of how they worshipped him all these long years despite his questionable sense of judgment. They had various ideas among themselves about how he did it, but none had the slightest clue. They still ardently argued and fought among themselves upholding their ideas of him and his nature. It was not him, but their idea of him which was important. He was just a tool?

Their predecessors were not a problem. They who also knew of him, neither worshipped him nor disrespected him. But these newcomers were different. They were, arguably, fighting in his name.

But the coward that he is, chose indifference to interference. Let the world be. After all, he was not God, to feel the least responsible.....

And then I realized. I had thought she thought I was. But apparently, ones thoughts do not create truth. My nerves did the anticipated. My hormones did the anticipated.
I became anticipation’s fruitfulness.
Despair. Desperation. Depression. They were anticipation today, which is more often a dynamic variable than a constant.
Aham Brahmasmi, I told myself. It just somehow, did not seem convincing.

                                                                                I felt the need for support. I’d seen people, when they felt they need support, illogically holding themselves together, leaning on others proclaiming to be god. I’d seen others still, illogically still, leaning against god, defining it as what they want that which they lean on to be.

                                                           But the point is, logic is not always the explanation, not always the solution. So I searched for something to lean on. I felt the need. Unquestionable need. I cried out for it. Waited for it. But I couldn’t find it. I had faith, I told myself. It was not convincing. “I have faith,” I told the world, it sounded more convincing.

                                                                                                         But I was falling. I needed a support now, before the fall was complete. At least a soft bed for me to fall into. Desperation. Urgency. Fear. I was falling.

                                          I found nothing. I fell. Shattered I was. Deplorable. Ugly. But my heart was still beating, barely. It was not the end. Horrifying. Was I vice? Or was I brave? Or was I dumb?





I woke up.
I still did not know whether she thought I was or not.