The Glorious Misery

I am miserable. So are you. We often share our stories with each other. Infact, we share it with a lot of people. But my life is always more miserable than everyone else’s. I can dig through my past and present to you a series of hardships that I’ve been through. Sure, you’ve had a hard life too but can you imagine being in my shoes?

Somewhere I know…I know I won’t let myself forget the past. Not because I don’t like being happy but because my misery brings glory to my success. Sometimes I will fail and raise my finger at my misery. But, once again, I will promise myself “I am going to be happy.” Then, someone will stop by and blather about their miserable life. They will cry, whine and grumble and force me to break my silence “Friend, my misery is more glorious than yours!”

I know I will never be happy if I look back at that drug, that addictive depressing past that I love to brag about. Yes, it feels good to brag about my misery. Embraced in self pity, it feels good to weep and lose myself while some “concerned” souls try to “help” me. But the “help” will never help for I don’t want it to help.

I am all about “what I was”. I know it is the “I am” that matters... “I am” to the point that “I was” ceases to exist. I am happy.

THE PINCH OF FAILURE

Along the path of neutral, over tiny bumps of pleasure and little potholes of sorrow, I walk. Occasionally, I climb over the hillocks of triumph and often fall into pits of failure; the pits so deep.

Down in the ditch I sit and wait disheartened, dejected and depressed. My shriveled soul sits and mourns. Yet, I don’t call for help. I believe that nothing in this world can make me feel better again. With my mind still debating over the existence and non-existence of God; I have lost faith in the system. I have certainly lost faith in myself.

I look up at the opening; the opening I conveniently ignored; the opening I was pushed into by circumstances. Yes, blame it on the circumstances. People peep into the ditch. Some with a smirk on their faces, some expressionless, some laugh, happy with themselves or are they laughing at me?

Deep down there I lie wishing the world’s gazes don’t set me ablaze. “I don’t need sympathy”- I assure myself. I want the world to end. The base keeps eroding. The pit gets deeper and deeper. I wait, soaked in a pool of tears for someone, something to somehow get me out. I wait. I mourn.

When failure pinches hard, I just- Fail!