Don’t push me, I know and I am trying. It’s always difficult to accept that one can end up being a failure. It’s even harder to convince oneself that he can be an escapist in the making. An under confident being who is not ready to come to terms with the fact that he doesn’t even know what he can achieve. Bluntly, what he wants. This is the first stage of the fatal disease.
Further on the victim is suffering from a condition of not even making an effort to know oneself. The second stage comes when one thinks one knows ‘who’ he is and begins procrastinating for the remedy. This stage leads to a deadly two-way front. The left front (curable like a seasonal fever) leads to laying down action steps and begin searching for valid evidences that can help define the personality. The right front is the torch bearer for the third stage. Slipping into the right front one believes that life has a lot to offer and agrees that life is long enough to take critical steps that would then identify the objectives. The idea of finding an objective becomes the objective itself.
Deviating away from what I intend to express using the above facts, I would like to point out a key observation. When somebody gradually becomes a victim of this disease he stands totally unaware of what’s in store for him. However the onlookers know exactly what’s happening and how it can be cured (most of them only think that they do). One of the symptoms of this condition is that the victim turns a deaf ear to what his intimates have to say. Adding a personal note I would like to reveal that I have suffered from it in the past and it took me 18 months to get cured. It makes you cynical enough to lose the precious word in the dictionary, ‘time’.
Getting deeper into the shit hole he starts enjoying what he has and delves into relatively newer avenues. This helps to stagnate upon the perplexed state of mind momentarily and importantly superficially. That can even last for a few years. Like a garbage picker anything and everything that comes on the way is jumped at and cherished. However, the lava inside his brain quietly waits for a vent. It takes a decent friction to generate the spark that would burn the lights to travel on stage four. It can be as simple as a ‘break-up’, a bad job or a failure to strike a balance between work and your personal life or even an extra-ordinarily bad day. It can be varied depending on the condition of the victim.
‘Cynicism in its literal dictionary meaning, with all the meanings mentioned’ is what I would define this stage as. The then picked up fragments of life are now under the scanner. They are scrutinized and dumped. In fact the most critical pieces are kept. And I am being very candid here; they are the ones that face the brunt of this devastation that is just about to begin. A series of incompetent acts follow. The feeling of nothingness creeps in and whatever has been built so far appears unworthy and fake. There is a strong disagreement to the way life has been lead so far and the officers of suffocation start questioning the beliefs. The victim is mostly a person who hasn’t tested many of his beliefs but holds a strong opinion about them. He also wants to mould himself into them even if he is not compatible. I have a positive opinion about such a self motivated effort. But at this stage it clutters the head with unimaginable situations. For example, a situation could be what if the head of your family is dead? Are you capable enough to take on the responsibility? Or statements like – what if your better half is picked up by some miscreants and molested, what would you do? Or what if she likes someone else and is only sympathetic towards you? The questions are very open ended and are framed to bury you further into negativity.
Every situation is observed contrary to the required approach with a torch of skepticism. Crushed are the little emotions that are the foundation of each cherished moment.
If the victim is intelligent, nobody can imagine what pain he is in apart from the shattered look in his behavior. His inner wit (the defense mechanism to fight the virus of this disease) is in constant conflict against the false imagery the virus paints for him. He suffers every minute. In fact hates himself for not being able to stop the virus. Hating oneself for the incapability to refrain from the web of thoughts is an agony only the sufferer can feel. Helplessness and dismay make him run to seek for solace. Every man seeks solace in the ‘loov’ of his life. And she slowly suffers with him. Every time the virus goes berserk and treats his feelings and opinions like carcass on a deserted ship he is pushed a step more towards darkness and loneliness. When the bug lets him breathe he say, “I know and I am trying…”
