Analog Guy

I think too many kind words are wasted on the wrong kind of people. The problem in a nutshell is that we have kind words to say, but we don’t have the right people to say it to. Maybe its time to move beyond familiarity, its time to give the unfamiliar a shot. Start your engines, drive on wild unfamiliar roads. Understand that we were meant to run wild. Not stay put in protective societies that have a tendency to slowly suck the life out of you. Societies that try to make you feel like you belong there, and pretend they really want you there, but only till as far as you end up forming the bottom rungs of their society.Leave. Go off into uncharted territories. Don’t be afraid. All roads lead back home at some point of time. Maybe the definition of home changes with the territory too. But whatever happens man, it’ll be worth it, I can assure you of that.

I walk the walk, do my thing, try to write the perfect story. Live, breathe, things that should come to me naturally, but I’m still made to fight for it. Everyday is a struggle to make some sort of a memory, to somehow prove that I’m doing the right thing, chasing the right dreams on the wrong roads, or the wrong dreams on the right roads. Stuff like shouting louder than others, telling myself that I’m kickin ass, pretending I belong, doing shots, getting high, saying n doing something wildly inappropriate, all of it, is just fundamentally wrong, as a concept for living, not otherwise, barring limitations on personal prejudices. I’m not saying its not fun, its fuckin awesome, but that’s not the point. That’s not making it count. All of this is just getting away from everything for a while. The moments, that, for me have been completely worth it, have always been moments in quiet contemplation. Thinking, pondering, simply coming up with answers to my own questions. That, to me, is life. Nothing more, nothing less. Its not the fancy cars, or the endless barrage of brands and lifestyle concepts in the world. It’s not the Yolos and extreme bouts of excitement and depression. Its more. Not a lot more, and completely different things. Its stuff that your education could never teach you. It’s the thoughts that keep you up at night, it’s everything that hurts. It’s what personal grievances teach you. Its how you protect your dreams and fight for it. Its how you protect the ones you love, in those moments when your body has a natural instinct and carries out an involuntary action to protect them at the first sign of danger, even before you can react voluntarily to it. Chances are, it’s simply that instinctive reaction.

Here’s the thing. All these years of falling in miserable love, brought nothing but grief. But the grief brought art. Things that I write, that I’ve always written, have always been for someone. Its like my writing and my grief need to co-exist, in a wildly erotic co-dependent society in a place that has a population of two. But then years and years of shit not working out, made me strong. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for that. But it made finding inspiration even harder. looking for it in times of great distress and then coming up short, just didn’t seem to fit the bill. This wasn’t the plan. The plan was simple. I’d wait for her to come along, stop writing about lonesome tides and tragedies, Write about other things, basically just be happy. But there’s no sign of her, and my pen’s slowly slipping away. I know she’s out there somewhere, but i need to hold onto the art. It’s all I have. I’d even say that in the off chance that the multiverse theory is true and infinite parallel universes exist, then in at least one of them I’d try and settle for the art or the love.

I think there are too many strings attached, that I need to discord with. And its taken me years, shamefully a lot more than I’d want to admit, to understand that letting go is not giving up. Life starts, when you let go.

Don’t be too nice. But don’t be an asshole either. Somewhere between being these two, exists a timeline where magic happens. You know what kind of magic? Happiness. Don’t go trying to figure her out when there’s no magic between the both of you. Don’t settle out of insecurity. There’s a plan, there’s always a plan. Don’t be that guy. Don’t be the guy she looks for, when she’s done playing with the whole damn world and feels fucked up and knows you’re there for her on her loop, waiting for her. Then getting her back on her feet, sorting out her life, just so that she can tell you that she needs to go because somewhere out there, there’s someone special waiting for her. It’s not her fault, but it’s not yours either. I don’t see why putting yourself through all this misery and pain makes sense. Harden the fuck up. Save the “Understanding her” for someone special. Save it for someone who.. someone who puts that much effort into understanding you. You’ll know it when you meet her. It takes a lot of effort to even make an effort to understand someone, so save it for someone who deserves it. Between falling off the ledge and holding on to thin air, is this incredible moment when you’re at peace and at your at your absolute best. That moment is the moment when you’ve let gone of everything that’s been holding you back.

What’s the point in wasting time trying to reanalyze, and re- writing words and history. You can’t change the past. period. That moment’s gone by. It’s not coming back. Trying to go back and changing bits and pieces is nothing more than a waste of time. Don’t go trying to right the wrong because that was exactly how it was supposed to go down in time. It happened, fuck it. you’ve been on the wrong end of bullshit because someone fucked up and someone’s been on the wrong end of bullshit because at some point of time, you fucked up. Quite simple. Its just how it is. Face it, shit happens. We get smacked on the face by life and we wake the fuck up. You can’t change the past but you can make a difference. For as long as you do the things you do, with the right intentions, you’re not going wrong. We’re imperfect people in an imperfect society, and we exist in imperfect times. So don’t blame yourself, forgive yourself from time to time because we were never meant to be perfect. Because we can’t be perfect. And most importantly you deserve to give yourself a break. It wasn’t your fault.

Leave the painful winters behind. Hit the long lonely road for one last time. It might have excruciating pot holes and it might give you too much time with yourself, more time than you need, more time than you want, but trust me, it’ll be worth it. Get on a fuckin Boeing, get on choo choo tracks or just get in your car out and do the drive. Don’t pay for multiple tolls because its a one way road from here, and you aren’t coming back. Because somewhere out there, magic’s waiting to happen.

Jaivir Singh.. 4.40 am. 9.04.2013.