misery my opium.

as the years go by, and the tick tock turns more rapid and less logical, i see myself asking questions which till a time in recent past, were completely alien to my thought process and social conditioning.

as the the seconds turn into years, i realize that love is a highly over rated emotion, but not half as under rated as the opium to kick start our lives all over again, as we pass the mundane cycle of repetition of the thing called life.

I realize that the age old saying is correct. that you never forget your first love..or the fact that it will never forget to remember you. And once you have tasted the misery of a lost love, you shall keep mourning it till the next bout hits you in your guts. And till your guts are hit so bad that you double up, more in pain than in bliss, you shan’t stop. It takes form of a phantom, after which, you begin your chase. And that is when the entire loop of love being a habit, an addiction, an opium begins.

Love…is a fairly simple word, but a highly romanticized emotion. Might as well be. After all, that is what keeps us moving in this mechanical circular life. As the wretched stupid heart keeps pounding, pumping in misery…more and more by each passing love affair.

But I do not have an answer to the question of when does love cross over to lust? And when does love consume us in the façade of lust? Why do we become victim to the despair of happiness? Why does happiness not be the opium?
Am I asking questions of a commitment phobic? Or are these simple outlines of a foolish romantic notion?

After a failed love, as intense as the sting of a Scorpio, as pure as an infant’s first breath, as magical as life, I began my quest of the eternal emotion, solace in the presence of a crazy little thing called love… only to realize that it is nothing more than my misery. Nothing more, than my opium.