7 posts tagged “rage”

I'll cry with you if I have to
I'll try and make you laugh
I'll stand by you if you feel alone
I'll be your company
I'll sit with you when you want to cry
I'll try and convince you that your life is worth living

But if you want sympathy, go somewhere else.

Don't expect me to feel sorry for you
Don't expect me to try and snatch that rope away from your hands
Don't expect me to cry because you think you can't "be strong anymore"
Don't expect me to beg you to stop hurting yourself in the ways I do to myself just so you can make a trade

I hate you when you get like this

You want to kill yourself?
You want to hurt?
You want to torture your own mind?
Lie to yourself?
Cry yourself to sleep?
Cling on?

Fine.
Go ahead and fucking do it.
Don't tell me your grand plans.

You want to die?
Then don't give me the gun to keep.
I want NO part in this.
Just leave me alone.
I need no more nightmares.

You are weak and pathetic.
And you fall further in my eyes every single day

The joker was right
Even the best of us fall
Well, you know what I've realized?
I never liked the best amongst us much anyway.

I don't know how he can sleep in peace after all that he's done. Is he not educated? Does he not know how the British divided this country? And so successfully?

I look at the board and its full of fanatical mass messages half typed in Marathi. If you don't need the rest of the world, then why are you using these computers? Why not wait till Maharashtra invents its own?

These petty politics make me sick. If India is ever to rise in the world, if it is ever to be respected outside, then this has to end.

Raj Thackeray should have been put in jail long ago on grounds of sedition.

Oh yeah, and if he's so true a Marathi, why is his name Thackeray?

India is one. Those who try to take advantage of the castes and regional politics deserve worse than death. They deserve to be damned. Mr. Thackeray has NO right to threaten the government!

The people need to stop acting like sheep and destroying public property. Don't they see its their own tax money???

When will our country ever learn???

Imagine this:

You are walking down a crowded market road with your little brother. Because he's only 13, your mother has asked you to keep an eye on him. So that he doesn't get lost, or kidnapped. That kind of thing. It is quite crowded today. So you grumble and sigh but agree and have been keeping an eye on him all morning. He's been behaving, which is a good thing, but he's a good kid anyhow and you smile when you think of the ice-cream you're planning to reward him with at the end of this trip. It'll make him happy and he'll probably flash that happy silly smile at you. The one you keep making fun of, but secretly adore.

You buy some flowers for the project you're supposed to work on tonight while your little brother ogles at a gaming console at the other side of the street. Its getting late, so you decide to head back. You don't wanna be late for lunch after all. The place just seems to have gotten even more crowded and you urge your brother to hurry. A black motorcycle makes its way into the narrow street and you frown in annoyance. people move out of the way and you too take a step back, holding on to your little brother's hand. The black motorcycle makes its way slowly and carefully through the crowded street. As it nears, one of the two riders - who are both in black - drops a black polythene bag with what looked like a lunch box inside. Pulling his hand away from yours, your goody-two-shoes brother hops forward and picks it up. You look at him and roll your eyes in exasperation, but you can't help but feel proud of him. He's your little brother and he's turned out alright. You smile and think to yourself that perhaps you should buy him two cones of ice-cream instead of just one. You notice a nearby old lady smiling at your kid brother as he picks up the packet and turns to the bikers, and your pride soars even higher.

"Brother, your packet has fallen..."

Those are the last words you hear him say before the blast.

Those are the last words you ever hear him say...

_________________________________________________________________________________________

A thirteen year old boy was killed today in a Delhi market as he attempted to return a fallen packet to its owners. Unfortunately for the young sincere child, they did not want their "packet" which turned out to be a low intensity bomb. The last words heard by eyewitnesses and his relations were ‘brother, your packet has fallen.’

http://www.indianexpress.com/news/delhi-blast-honesty-turns-fatal-for-boy/366708/

My deepest condolences go to the family and friends of the child...

She leaned over the gray stone sink, her dark eyes empty and unfocussed, seemingly staring at a point beyond her own distorted reflection. A sad lonely song played on in the background, but she seemed oblivious to it. Someone was banging on the fragile bathroom door. The girl didn't move. She did not even seem to hear. Silence filled the air. She kept gazing at whatever it was that only she could see. The song ended and another began... Her eyes filled up with tears...

For a while, she let them swim there and then... she blinked, a confused look flitting across her face. Suddenly, she reached up and angrily wiped away the forming tears with the sleeve of her white too-big T-shirt. As she accidentally dragged the sleeve down her face, the frown changed to a grimace. Her head snapped up to attention and she stared at the girl in the mirror as if seeing her there for the first time. Her eyes drifted over the straggly dark hair that fell over the pale face, down to the dark blank eyes. Her gaze stopped at the red line drawn across her left cheek. She reached up slowly and winced as her fingers brushed against the mark.

Her eyes widened as the screams filled her head once again. The dark kohl had smeared across her pale face and for a moment the girl in the mirror frightened her. The empty lifeless eyes, the lack of expression on her face, the detached pain the bruise was giving her. For a moment, it wasn't her reflection she was staring at, it was her ghost. The banging began again, but she paid no attention. The words in her head drowned out everything else. The song changed again. People began to shout, in worry, in fear, in panic... but the girl was too busy listenin to the voices in her head, staring into the mirror, afraid to reach out and touch it because she didn't know whether it was the glass that lay shattered or if it was just her reflection. Either way would hurt her... either way she would break. Either way, it didn't matter, because... there was no real difference between her and her reflection.

A faint smile played upon her lips as the blackness swallowed her. A little longer and she wouldn't have to bleed anymore...

You know, it's only now that I realize what a sheltered life I'd really lived.

Horrors are horrors... I'm talkin bout daily life here...

The Navy is an amazing place to grow up in. For the first 17 years of my life, the words "caste", "society", "religious discrimination", etc meant NOTHING to me. They were just words I read in the newspaper. And I laughed at the stupidity of the small number of people- or so I thought- that were still obsessed with these immaterial things...

But then... I had my one year at college in K-land. Even then... I believed that it was a freak thing, and the only real barrier was one of communication. I refused to believe that our country could still be a place where it mattered what caste or religion you were born in, and the concept of pure blood still existed...

But now...
All my doubts have been crushed into tiny little pieces... as has much of my belief in ours being a truly secular country. Everyone says it doesn't really matter where you're from, but it's such a part of everyday conversation and thought... it scares me... but more than that, it angers me. I hate the way it has crept into every day of my life. I hate knowing that no matter what I say or do, the first thing so many around me will want to know is where I am from. What the F*CK does that have to do with anything???
(Sorry bout the censoring, my coll will block access to my own site if I do not do so. -_-)

I loathe the question "Where are you from?", and I'm glad I have no one answer to give. I'm relieved that there is no one state or caste I must 'belong' to. "Belong to". I belong to no one. To nothing. Specially not some dumb ancient system just because I was born in one house and not another. If I want to belong somewhere, I am gonna be the one deciding where, not my 'lineage', not my blood. Me.

At home, religion was never a big thing. Yeah, once in a while, mum would light some incense and then me and my brother would fight over who would get to twirl it around the few god pictures in the house. But that was pretty much it. We never had forced temple visits, or family prayers. Some may say that it brings about better 'family harmony'. I think playin UNO accomplishes that way more easily... and it's more fun too!

And then there's all the shocked gasping people who ask me how I dare say I don't believe in God. Firstly, it's none of their business. Secondly, it's not like I don't believe in God, I just don't believe in their Gods. Any of theirs. Religion is nothing but another reason to be divided. Oh sure, it unites people, brings different people together, promotes harmony, blah blah. But it also gets people killed... and frankly, I'd rather everyone live in relative isolation than be murdered just because they fast in the name of different supernatural beings.

Rage.
Sometimes I want to let her take over.
I want her to lash out.
I want her to grab that wheel and drive into the water, through the little fence-like wall, watching as he screams for me to stop.
But we won't stop.
We'll just laugh.
We'll laugh as his screams get louder.
We'll laugh as we hit the water.
We'll laugh as we sink to the very bottom, water filling up in that space, and then in his lungs.
We'll laugh while I watch him die.

But then, she'd have won...
So, I don't move.
I jus' sit and stare at nothing at all, saying little but knowing its killing her.
Thats enough for me.
It's revenge enough... for now.
It doesn't matter that in the process I'm hurting myself as well.
It's worth it... for now...