Shouts Of Souls

At times, you may be wrong but not always. Just for this once, I wouldn't care if I am right or wrong. Living alone is likeable and I am getting addicted to it. Almost every person who just tried themselves on drugs and alcohol have not been able to give it up lately. May be that thought struck always down to my throat and I am not quitting it. You may be addicted, you may feel guilt, remorse and circumstantial indifferences make you anxious but on the other hand you can go out and work hard until smoking or the hard work itself kills you.

I am trying to seek peace in isolation, its like you are searching for silence in bereavement and what you get is the intense loudness in the utter silence you probably are hemmed in, and finally if you will tend to notice the surroundings you will find that annoyance is quite a small word.

Complications are sometimes so good that you quite get addicted to it. You find pain in everything, in everything will you now disguise your agitated emotions! Things would seemingly try to get more convoluted and you will find yourself trapped in the lethargic cobwebs of the time and circumstances that you may once were addicted to. Life is too simple to be lived quietly in a place of no man's land, but since we (me, in particular sense) complicate situations and life, we tend not to perform better than with the sense of remorse of our own wrong done.

There will come a time when all you seek would only be peace and silence without the belligerence of thoughts that might prevail in the head of evil. But since, you're already confounded with a perplexed situation that all swayed upon you by the very "will" of yours, you cannot, even if you want to, get away with shouts of your soul.

"The things you own end up owning you."

Twice a Smoking Barrel

What kind of guy, without a drug or alcohol problem looks so like a druggy. Only a Writer. Like many others, I am too career obsessed. Engineering was my dream, after I woke up with the eyes wide open, realized I could be a writer. Reading was never my hobby, so I started writing. Comprehended lately, that for a person to become a writer has to start reading. I was sitting on the couch in my drawing room with the book "False Impression" bought before a week and just was the distraction when the phone rang to call me a meeting, a friend I always wanted to avoid. But as he came far from another city just to greet me 'hello', I couldn't have forestalled my being at home. I went to see him and he heedlessly asked me to contribute in buying a packet of weed to smoke together. 

That was my first time I ever felt amused by the sheer pleasure of smoking! Nonetheless, I wanted so not to happen as after getting 'High' people address you more intently and it feels like as if they know it, you just smoked a joint and that's illegally bad thing. Past few days, I read about marijuana and those unwanted plants which are now so expensive and so wanted that my peers almost spend all their allowances on it. And the avarice of it is still to crave for more. I was totally unaware of the consequences one bears after smoking these oddly substances that for quite a couple of weeks I actually researched about things like, Marijuana, Weed Leaves, Hashish, Coacaine, Ethers and other Acidic substances, purposely so that I could tell my friends now, even I know what I smoke and how it actually feels like. 

Those were the days when I dropped a year as intended to study to clear engineering entrance exam. I hardly get any penny for my daily expenditure but still rather being sorry to my friends I give them an appreciable amount of contribution, accumulating bucks which I save while helping my mother in a grocery store. Things went on like that for a couple of months, a couple of months more and couple of months more when finally I realized that actually I have to study and just few days are left for the forms to end up selling and I am still to buy forms. Meanwhile I gave up all that we smoke and things we do. 

Things were seemingly started to appear in my mind, I just started loving life and its values, but drugs are something which keeps an entity of never fulfilling desire. Things were getting little better and when I suddenly gave up the thought of becoming an engineer and changed that for Journalism, after all this is the only good thing drugs did to my life. Somewhere down the corner I anticipated that engineering is not my taste... Or probably I wanted to get rid of those druggies. I didn't know if in any point of fact I was avoiding drugs or drugs made me choose my career option I was obsessed with. The question haunts me with the sense of regret, is drugs doing good to me or is it too bad? 

After college admission, befriending some passive cigarette smokers needlessly knowing that they too are indulged in smoking substances. Just that once I saw my past hitting me back and I started it again now with a positive side of it. I quite enjoyed smoking with my new friends; they taught me the good side of getting high. And also, unlike earlier this time was not for Marijuana but Hashish, Cream Hash. The thing is great. Now I don't feel as if people are watching me and they know that I’m high, but rather I confidently stare at them and show an insolent smirking expression, that feeling of superiority, self confidence made me feel invincible for quite a some time. I withhold Group Discussions and Presentations until after smoking a joint. Teachers' started appreciating my work and GD's went very great. The words just hover over my head while GD's, all I need to do is just place them right and form a sentence and speak up. I understood, Drugs are taking on me. The medications make you feel very conscious about you and very provocative, in simpler words, it makes you smarter if you are already smart.

Taking everything for granted and ridden over by the pride and arrogance of oneself has defeated my irrepressible attitude. Apparently I created myself an imaginary line of status, so hard to cross that nothing in the earth be impossible to conquer or capture. I can take on anything. I was affected by the sheer pleasure of smoking and spectating it as an addiction would be wrong. From the time I started reading 'False Impression' still on the 24th page of it has made me so restless... I am still to end up with that book.

Now, I want to get killed. I am so doing nothing except shitting. It should be like; 
Shot right on my temple, Twice a smoking barrel of a gun.

It's only after we’ve lost everything, we’re free to do anything.