The story starts from the point that we have our own wishes, our own decisions, our own failures and yes, our own regrets. We live by them. Sometime keeping our head high and yet some time, when we are alone, keeping them down.
Draining it away in our tears, smoking it away in each puff of our smoke and laughing it away in each of our forceful smiles. We pretend to be alright. We pretend that we are normal.
But are we truly so? Can we restore the original state of mind- scarless, stainless or to say untarnished.
The answer is NO. We can’t.
You know, I know, and rest — I don’t know- for they are pretentious, when they say don’t know.
What would you do when you feel that you have been continuously missing the mark? What would you do when you know its not you who is missing the mark, but the mark is playful? What would you do when you when you realize that the target does not exist at all— it was but just a hallucination? An imagination of your mind that gave a shape to the mark by mixing out all your unfulfilled and most yearned desires.
No need to answer. Just think, feel and realize.
It’s f**king awful to realize that your best feelings were all but destined to mix in the stenching drain. To think that you’re best of affections were all but destined to become one with the filth of the human race. To think that your best of efforts were all but destined to be fruitless and precipitate away.
But that is that.
The playwright, the bastard who writes all these drama, knows all these. He must have smiled at my actions, feelings and inability to change the reality.
I now laugh at him because I know he has the power to make me suffer. But that he does not realize that I also do have to will to keep the futile work going on and on.
I now know that I am the bag and that you are the boxer.
But I am also not a Sisypus who gets down with a low-smile when he realizes that you just pushed the stone down, again. I am the best of f**king Sisypus who knows how to defeat you with my montony.
I will keep missing the mark. You keep on smiling. Even if i don’t hit the mark, I know you will get tired of making me do the absurd task. That moment I will laugh back at you.
It will come.
I will bring it to you, just don’t you die away God.
You son of a bitch!