Not all is well.

I think I have become a strange creature. How else can one explain my state of mind? I stand before you suffering from a hatred for good people. I am scared of them in pretty much the same way one is scared of the unknown, the untold or the unfamiliar. I get uneasy at gestures of goodness. I flinch whenever goodness is on display. I always doubt the ulterior motive. The proverbial smell of the proverbial rat is perpetual. I can’t help picturing a good guy as the wolf neatly clad in a sheep’s skin. Even helping hands have crooked, long fingernails on them. I don’t; see smiles anymore. I just see disguised grimaces. Every word of praise sounds like a word of consolation to me. Whenever someone says “Don’t mention it dude”, I hear “You owe me one asshole”. I think chivalry these days is just a step in seduction. Women, as Morrison sang, seem wicked to me. And as he continued, it could be because I am unwanted. Politeness to me, as someone said, is just the most accepted form of hypocrisy. I don’t believe in unconditional love, and this and that and this and that.

It is not that life and its ruthless ways have turned me into a cynic. In the tiny, deep corner of my heart, I am still a romantic. I badly want me to change my perception and my perspective. But the scarcity and hence the rarity of something instinctive, spontaneous and pure is so scary, it makes me wonder. It makes me wonder - Is something jolly wrong with me or is there something sadly right about me?