Pangs of a dud soul

Pangs of a dud soul

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Things went wrong when I realized that my mind and body are not synced.

I was deeply exhilarated about their auspicious union as it will produce the type of results I was yearning for ages. But somehow they choose to remain apart.

“Mind is a terrible thing to waste”.
Yes these piercing words struck in my mind while my sleepless eyes were shut tight. There was a sea of thoughts encircling me slowly. Their grip was getting more profuse and impactful on my mind.I tried to escape these influxes of thoughts, as once I get trapped in their vastness turning back was impossible.

I was waiting for the lady luck to come and rescue me from this labyrinth of apathy.

This was how my life lingers on. Morning, an unwelcome thing illuminates everything except my inner self.

I fathom where things went wrong or perhaps they were wrong from the very beginning its just my dormant conscience didn’t wake up to realize this.

You moan. You curse yourself for the nihilism. Then you move out of the box and search things to put blame on.

First always comes the most loved ones. The more we love the more we expect. Your parents. No matter how old you get on in years your parents are always the number one receiver. Then you blame yourself. Its just like the vicious cycle goes on until a meek sound of consciousness muses ”its you”.

You peeked in past more often, re-live the old self of yours to discern the grey areas. Then an epiphany struck that electrifies your mind.

Your mind is shouting but the body is in invisible shackles. The urge to put an end to this apathy went more earnest and it was like you are going to burst.

But body and mind still are not sync.

Sigmund Freud and my dying intellect

Sigmund Freud and my dying intellect

Sometimes a moment is enough to extricate the pent up thoughts of a person’s mind. Thoughts―that are somewhat residing in the dormant corner and only need a drive. Same happened when the words of Sigmund Freud invaded the otherwise devastated intellectual state of mine. It added fuel to the my eroding intellect.

However i found them quite relatable.

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Now somehow i had this notion that love enfeebles a person and weakens ones thinking power. The thing is when you know you are being loved then it makes you reckless(which in his words means bold) and contrary to that of one-sided love that cripples oneself and binds one in invisible shackles.

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I couldn’t agree more here. But you can’t simply ignore the person uttering foul words. Many times we give them due attention and ending up self-doubting our-self.

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Human are born like that and there is little one can do about it.

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Only when our struggle is fruitful otherwise it only offers bitterness whenever seen in retrospect.

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Quite true, but the period of this transition―where our weakness becomes our strength is very elusive. Its a period of constant battle within ourselves which ofcoarse not everyone can win.

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The definition of assholes need clarification here.

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Simply love this!!

A case of exploring drafts

A case of exploring drafts

I belong to that part of the world that is quintessence of political turmoil, deplorable law and order conditions, religious fanaticism, ethnic blood baths and plethora of other evils. Being a product of such country I lament and muse over anything relating to my country.Our lives revolve around politics.Living in politically robust society saturated with bipolar ideologies is never easy. Everyone is fighting war of words either in social networking sites or in drawing rooms. As I am assimilated to this culture so deeply that my grumblings are manifestations that how deeply I resent our system and want change.195554808789877979_syTQN4OJ_c

But sometimes the type of change I want is exit myself from this roller coaster atleast for a time being. I am tired of the threadbare discussion running on the idiot box.

So this morning I take a mighty task of opening my Drafts. Perhaps still better than exhausting your mind with empty rhetorics of leaders.

Opening my drafts I realized that my every blog has a reason to be in this destitute corner.

In my first draft I write about my aversion to cooking. The tedious process involved and my inability to mix the right ingredients. But as I was writing ”why I hate cooking” my abomination fades off and I end up liking it—but unfortunately hating the blog.

So the blog takes it’s deserve position and so did my propensity—to cookery.

One dreary night of winter, my mind was brimming with the remembrances of the past. So I decided to write it. I began fervently. I jotted down everything—winter blues and my fears. I solemn to publish it next morning but that morning never come. I procrastinated and finally it also moves in the same way as its predecessor —in drafts.

Somewhere in between I try to publish it but I always shies away from publishing something subjective. Writing about your fear is never easy; it’s like pouring your inner self out and this is something I dreaded. Anyways winters are already on the verge of leaving and I didn’t have winter blues in the same way as I experienced them before. So there isn’t any point of publishing it right now.

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The third occupant of my draft box is a ”Letter to life”. I am not sure I will ever muster the confidence to move it from there.  After writing all about afflictions given by my dear life I felt at ease. I don’t know from where, but i felt my repine feelings are tempering. The surliness is vanishing and so my desire of publishing it.

We all think life is unfair, isn’t this makes life fair—please excuse this threadbare cliché. I scorned myself of being a petulant creature. Als0 considering this a hackneyed phenomena I snubbed this blog to take its rightful place yes to the drafts.

Writing can be therapeutic and my drafts are harbinger of this. Sometimes you don’t need to exhaust vast treasure of self-help books for a solution, because answers lies within us. Merely putting words on the paper is sometimes more appeasing than any clinical solution.

Writing is one of the most solitary activities in the world—Paulo Coelho. Dead on, but for me it is a meditaton, the only thing that never pissed me off.

P.S I am a Pakistani.