Doodles of the Insane

You took a leap of faith and plunged into the untested depth. You travelled across the realm, along and against the stream, Unraveled the mysteries of the journey. But now, you are s oaked  in the perplexity and paradoxes. You badly wanna breathe again. The air is there, in plenty. Your lungs are here, ever ready. But still, you are holding your breath, hoping it would keep you alive. But the truth is a myth you buried deep inside your bones. Because there's something  in between the air and you, an ocean of water. It can purify your body. It can cleanse your soul. But, so it can kill you too. Will you prevail? Will you dare? Will you choose? If so, What will it be? Life or death? Living or Surviving? Flying or drowning? Choice or fate? Or  Would you keep staring  at the " or " in between,  forever? So, how do you start over, when its going above your head? Don't you dread this process?

Maybe the next time,  I will build a wall higher than this  to keep away the intruders.  I will add a moat around this  With my cheek kissed waters.  I will wrap myself in layers and layers of bandage to soothe my wounds.  I will wear a more tougher mask or  Perhaps nail it to my face, permanently.  I shall become even more unapproachable  with warning sign boards on my head.  I will let the child inside me starve and die, Because we are “so called” adults.  Maybe I will never ever open up  to an another living being in this universe.  Because some doors should never be opened.  And Some lines should never be crossed.  Precisely. Never ever.  P.S - Note to self. 

You sit in there, pleasantly, like a blooming flower. Everything, at least, seems to be perfect; But nothing is, indeed, deep inside. As you sense the faked up reality, in the back of your mind, A faint whisper of turbulence sets in. And that’s how everything starts, all of a sudden, out of the blue, Dragging your spirits into the blues.  An unfamiliar sense of  unwell-being s trikes you. A wave of wily gloom embraces you unwillingly.  An inexplicable longing for solitude  slithers in silently. An inexpressible rage to scream builds up violently. A cloudburst of apathy  drenches you under its sympathy.  A craving for conversation surges  high inside your vacuous soul.  The will to live vanishes, as its foe flourishes,   leaving  behind a void  and vapors  of confusion. All these relentless tides of emotions  Knocks on your doors of peace  and leaves you in pieces That scary transition  In just a matter of s

Do you crave for a conversation? Well. I might have to define it, first, before you fall into a false notion of grouping those unwanted small talks or fancy gossips and renaming them as conversation. No! They strictly are not allowed entry into this elite galaxy of deep and meaningful exchange of ideas about anything between two souls, irrespective of the multitudes of discrimination, man has invented upon himself. If you do crave, you can go ahead. If not, this is strictly not for you; Nevertheless, you can step in to keep yourself aware of the magic that can unfurl your wings into the unknown realms of cloud nine. Conversation, forms the basis of any relationship between any two. They are almost directly proportional to each other in mathematical terms. We are all looking for endless possibilities and probabilities, as the world's population clocks 7 billion, which is humongous. But the entire prospect of the game is limited by the closed space of region, mainly. T

Can you love someone, a completely faceless stranger, whom you have never met, never conversed with, nor shared neither experienced the vibe of your existence? I think, I possibly could. The year was 2010. And I was struck in one of the worst year, any medico, could possibly think about; Just after you have graduated. Ironically, graduation should confer you a joy, a job and an immunity to the tantrums of the society, who had been, all along, questioning your parents and yourself, about your long and relentless relationship with the books. But then, it just prolongs the unending experience, cajoling you to believe that, "..just one more year of hard-work will fetch your dreams.." So, I was there, believing in myself and the lies, I told to myself, to keep the vicious cycle moving. Thats how you end up at the end.. Loads of confusion on and off the brain.. Loads of adipose on and off your body.. Some get lucky as me .. For the unenlightened non-medicos, we