The dark passenger

"Life has no victories... There are only battles, and the best that you can hope is that, at the end of it all, you find a stand, and if lucky, find someone willing to stand beside you."

This was something I came across in a TV show, a little time back. Since the I've been thinking a lot about it. I mean, isn't it so true? There ends a battle, and soon enough a new one sprouts, and before we can even relish on the victory in the previous battle, we are already standing surrounded in the battlefield of the latter. And this goes on as a continuous process.

Emotions. What are these? Why do we feel them? Who gives these to us? These are the few questions I ask myself. For some good time, if the above said quote holds good, I really didn't feel anything at all. All my smiles, all my tears, all my everything, they were nothing. All of them were meaningless. I lived without feelings.

Pain is something that I have become very used to of late. What is pain? It is something that is supposed to hurt, right? So was it painful when I fell through a table accidentally? Or was it painful to see a friend change radically for the worst? Was it both? Was it none? I'm clueless.

They say "loneliness is tragical." Every time I close my eyes, I see that I'm in a desolate island, looking ahead, walking to the place where I can see the sun set. But the further I go, I see that I have to go to a different place altogether. No footprints on the sand, no signs to follow. Is this what we call "being lonely"? It is supposed to be something when you are all alone, and its not good. That's all I know. But am I lonely? I mean I'm always surrounded by people, at times, those who know me and love me well, at times, those whom I don't know, and at times, people who would be more than happy to see me dead.

Death. Another thing I don't know. People say and think a lot about it. It is not good they say, but it is unavoidable. Some commit suicide. Some are murdered. Some die a painful death. Some die peacefully. Why does it have so many varieties? Does it have any varieties? Its the moment of death I'll focus on. Whatever may be the reason, death occurs as soon as the heartbeat stops. So isn't death similar in all its forms? Why do people keep thinking and philosophizing about it? Is it death or that one moment that takes us to the other world? Why can't people accept a fact? I wish things were so easy...

I don't know why I write all this, but nothing of late has made much of a sense to me. And sure as hell this doesn't either. Is it the sorrow of rejection of honesty towards somebody? I don't know what sorrow is. Is it the shock of a sudden radical change in a somebody, whom your heart felt it should love? I don't know what shock is. I want to know. I need to know.