When all this ends.

I return to the rusty green table whenever I am clueless. It is like the old ignored piece of soon-to-be junk that you are too fond of to throw away. The last week has been absolutely crazy. One birthday, one suicide and one exam. This highly incongruous combination kept me busy.

The birthday was very nice and how much. The suicide was unnecessary and disturbing. The exam was difficult and absurd.

Then sleep deprivation. Five nights straight very little sleep, bad throat and complete mind-fuck was unbearable. And then I got 14 hours of sleep which made things so much better. As I write, I am searching for a snazzy new template for my blog. Something that looks impressive and serious etc. :P

In other news, I think I am finally out of a love. And it must do me good. But life is not so easy. I was thinking about one thing the other day. It seemed kind of crooked and freaked me out, but it made sense. Why do people end their lives when they are miserable? I think it is a better bet to kill yourself when everything is perfect. I, for one, always feel this anxiety about whatever happiness I have. I fear that one day the people who love me will stop caring about me. I fear mortality. Not my own, but of those I love. So I was thinking that it is actually a good idea to end your life when everything is fine. You can die happy, knowing that people love you, that the little illusion of a perfect universe that you have created around your head is still there.

Let us face it, all of us know that happiness is some kind of an illusion. Our romances, our friendships, our witticisms, our fixations, our principles... all these build up a nice happy universe which is so fragile that it can go POOF! with one blow. I fear that Poof more than anything else.

I know that my world is fragile. I don't know about your one, I don't know whether you have these anxieties or not, but I feel a sense of desolation each time I am very happy. I learnt my lesson the hard way when I was a kid. But I don't want my bubble to burst so bad again. So I want to go away when I am still cared for as a child, when my romance hasn't lost its glow, when my friends still find my jokes funny, when I am still important in my puny little world.

But then again, I can't be so selfish. And of course, I need to check out what life has in store. And right now it has a snazzy new template. So there.