Rolled Monk

Where are the words?

In Uncategorized on June 27, 2015 at 5:40 pm

The fuckers used to come unchecked once; without any care in the world. But now they seem to be hiding away in some corner of my brain! Or is it the heart? Well depends on the situation I guess. In fact sometimes when I’m horny they have even appeared from my penis.

But setting aside their present hiding place and my current dilemma another interesting question to ponder upon is what the fuck are words? And why the fuck is the word fuck so fucking attractive? So words are thoughts, thoughts are feelings, feelings are emotions, emotions are our response to a stimuli (the stimuli can be external or internal and the response can be conscious or sub-conscious) and so on and on. This will finally end as some nerve firing an electrical signal to your brain which processes that shit and makes you do whatever the fuck it is that you do.

Do you see the problem here though? I’m still using words to describe words: a vicious fucking circle. Meta-word is something that probably has been researched upon like crazy. I’ve thought about those too and tried reading some literature out there (age of the internet and all that jazz), but I gave up mid-way because it got too complicated for me. So I effectively put my “what the flying fuck are words” quest to a halt and instead started asking myself where the fuck are my own words? As expected my mind threw back a lot more words at me in response to this query (however I’m fucking pleased that revert wasn’t one of those words).

So after that useless tangent I was back to where I had started (I had reverted) but this time I had a few words. Now with these words I was able to construct sentences which then became paragraphs and will hopefully end as some amazing piece of shit you read and pretend you understood and then go and tell your friends about me that because of this crap I’d written, I’m like this. I know that person because those are his words. Even though I don’t have any fucking clue what the fuck a word is?

One of the words that had come back was judgment. I was afraid what you were thinking of me and then I degraded myself further by thinking what you would think of me if you knew I was afraid of your judgment: well that shit went on and on for a while. At the end of it though, I realized that I’m more afraid of my judgment of me than I will ever be of yours. Inside my head you didn’t matter. It was always I. Me.

Those were another couple of words that had popped up which then led me to narcissism- which is another fancy word for self-obsessed asshole. So I went through the whole shenanigan of who am I? What the fuck am I doing? Why am I? Does it even matter? And then I realized it doesn’t. No, I’m not yet a nihilist you judgmental prick! But we’ll get there wait. The realization these words gave me was whatever the fuck is going on inside your head doesn’t matter to other people. Put a fucking smile on your face and try to put one on theirs; they’re going to buy you. We are consumerist pigs after all and happiness is the most sought after commodity. Just remember that the shit inside your head (heart, dick, wherever) is almost the same as the shit in everybody else’s. The difference always boils down to words. The lesser you know, the better. Ignorance as they say, is fucking bliss.

The next word that emerged in this mental masturbation was fame. Fame is man’s only fucking shot at immortality ok! And boy don’t we all try hard for that. But fame also led me to an interesting conclusion, the one I’m most proud of, and the one I hope I can live by. Fame might take you as close to immortality as possible but it isn’t the real fucking deal. Trying to get bitten by a vampire might be a better pursuit.

Let me elucidate: take Shakespeare; The most well-read author of our times and probably going to be so till the end of time (I’m not even going to give time the courtesy of thought. Because it is a motherfucker. Now is all that matters). He is famous and in a way he is immortal. But he is fucking dead. So once our lives are over it REALLY (what the fuck is real again?) doesn’t matter what others think about us. The façade exists only during our living days.

In fact let us assume multiverses and assume there’s a Shakespeare everywhere equally famous and in one of these multiverses they’d discovered immortality maybe even during Shakespeare’s time itself and everybody is immortal and they’ve also discovered wormholes and shit that’ll allow you to travel between universes and thus when yours is ending you can move on to another and still trudge on with life. Even in this universe fame won’t matter. Because fuck you man I’m immortal. I can become a Shakespeare anytime. He’s more famous than me only because I let him to be. (Might sound like a jealous child justifying her reasoning but you won’t understand it unless you’re immortal).

Then there was sex and its relative words: virginity, horniness, porn, vaginas, boobs, ass, penises, beautiful, ugly and all that. These were the words that really stumped me. I mean in modern society they are considered as shallow things. While it is no secret that everyone is horny and everyone wants to get laid and everything we say/do is in some way or other to make us more visible to someone we want to fuck we seem to consider them superficial? Taboo even according to some. It is a core emotion rooted in our deepest hearts. We were probably fucking before we even knew what fucking was. Scratch that probably. We were. Like we instinctively know how to put our food in our mouths, we also know how to put our penis into a vagina (or an asshole. I may judge but I don’t really care).So why was I so afraid about it? I don’t know and as of now I don’t have the maturity to dig deeper and try and understand. But one thing I do know is that it is what it is and I am not going to feel ashamed of wanting someone purely sexually (maybe just inside my head. But a quick question for you to ponder upon: when you’re fucking someone in your head, do you take consent?)

These words finally showed me a small glimpse of who I am and who I am is fucked up. But so are you. Own up to it. Think. Examine your life. Take fucking responsibility for who you are becoming. Don’t throw shitty words like society, friends, peer group and all that. The entire world is out there and it’s only a question of whether you’re willing or not to strip yourself before them. I know that I am not ready. Not yet. But I hope that one day I will be. Hope – the best word there is. Probably even better than fuck.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: