Unrequited Love

I suffer from unrequited love to myself. I love myself, but I don’t love myself back.

I thought once solitude would bring me peace. It didn’t. Then I thought that peace might be in companionship — spoiler spoiler, it isn’t. The way we try to live is nothing short of a slow suicide which we do.

There isn’t love anymore in amongst humans, no compassion, nothing. A person may die on the road with cold and humans will put a blanket on someone’s grave rather than put it on the person. A person may die of hunger but some humans like to offer food to a statue of rock. Since when did we become like this? That we need to find reasons to do anything. That we need to be guided. That we need to be told “do this or else God will punish you.”

What we call “materialistic things,” I never tried to pursue it. I listened to the voices from the stars, and now that they have been silent for a long time, I do not know what to do. I myself am criticizing myself — since when did I become such a keen follower of the voices? In fact, I started hating the voices some time ago. It was a time when the mention of someone’s name calmed my brain so much that the voices in my head stopped.

I know for real that these voices are not real. They as well may be, who knows. But it’s not a mere coincidence that if I am trying hard enough I can ignore them. The only better way was to remember that someone. But now, her pursuit of the materialistic world has distanced me so much that I cannot think or reason clearly. The voices are back, and this time they demand something from me. They demand blood. They demand carnage. Above all, they demand revenge.

But I am not like that. I would die before revenging on people ever. For each soul is misguided, and I only know that they do not understand. And I only pray to God — forgive them, O Father, for they do not know who I am.

I am writing this to anyone who stumbles upon this in the future: do not try to become very heartful and giving in nature, for then you will just be a kingmaker and never a king. But, to each their own.

Aman will go away to write some high-performance C now. Let us C that the voices get satisfied or not.