The Criminality of Being Sad

If what religions say is true -- that there apparently is a life after death and dead people turn into souls and spirits and they can always see us, and listen to us; then, you'd know that I've been sad ever since you're gone and this bereavement will perhaps never leave me ever. The sadness will stay engulfing me not because I'm weak or stupid but just because I really love you.. I've always loved you and I'll continue loving you... even if we always fought over silly little things and I was crazy at times when you felt I don't love you or I've no idea who you are and how you have created an entire world around me. Yes, I've been an ill-mannered nasty bitch but still the truth cannot be changed that underneath all my stupid actions they lied love for you.

But then, in all my faithlessness, my hostility towards religions, faiths and God, I often feel the stories of spirits,souls and life after death is just a myth which doesn't have anything true about it. In those moments of faithlessness when all I can see is an endless darkness -- some kind of tunnel that has no opening,I don't think about you at all. Though I haven't forgotten, it simply means that now when you aren't there and there is no proof of your existence what the hell should I do? It surely is not childish but I grant enough freedom to the world to call me mad or insane. Being an insane gives a certain level of freedom. Once the world knows you're mad -- insane -- everyone forgives you for your behavior, for they way you react, for the way you take things and understand them. Nobody anymore come to you to give you those dirty long preaching that you detest the most -- " you ain't a kid..." "aren't there kids who get orphaned, look at them, how bravely they take things.." "... kids are far stronger than you are..." ".. you still have your limbs intact, you have mind, you can do a job, blah, blah,blah..."

How it makes you feel like a criminal. Ah, what a crime you have done by telling somebody that you're feeling a bit weak inside. What a crime it is to feel the void after losing somebody who was so important to you. What a crime it is to cry and let those tears fall free escaping your eye-lids. As if the only way to get rid of criminality is to be hanged to death. And it feels still so strange. Like, if you don't feel any sad at all, if you hadn't cried ever at all and if you try telling people you're so happy, there is no such feeling like bereavement eating you up, have you ever wondered how the world will take this as? You'll still be a criminal. A criminal who has no feelings, who doesn't care if somebody so important dies. World will then have a new word for you -- maybe a sadist, a tyrant, a hateful brute -- but in your every gesture, you'll be wrong. In your every feeling, you'll be completely alone to face it all. Either you decide to be a stone and carry hate inside or you have no command over your emotions and like wild horses your emotions make you feel so pathetically sad that you just cannot handle it anymore.

Like in Camus's "The Stranger" the protagonist was hanged to death because people thought he was heartless enough to murder anyone as he didn't cry when his mother died and even went to the cinema with his girl friend the very next weekend after the tragedy. Had he felt super sad, and got drowned to depressive level of bereavement, I can bet on it, the court would have still hanged him to death saying that he had lost the capability of understanding what's right and what's wrong. So, that's it. World is really strange. You're sad or happy, it will make you pay for it. And if this absurdity is the underlying system that makes up this whole world, what good it is to stay alive; to do anything at all; to be with or without people, family, friends around you?

Just like Meursault I've  no idea what to do -- how to react to it... and I don't even know if you can see me or not. And if you can see me, how you're taking it as -- perhaps you'll find it a stupid drama, so, I'd decide not to be sad. And if you aren't there anymore, there is completely no existence of yours -- I'm on the safer side -- I can really cry my heart out with no regrets at all. As, I'll know nobody is watching me, I can do this bit of criminality of feeling sad, depressed, broken, stupid, idiotic, crazy just because you're gone and will never be back again...

Die We Must, Then Why to Live?

I may spend an entire life asking you - why you died? But the world will call me mad, a certified eccentric. Well, I do know all the answers that science has to offer. The Darwin's theory announcing "The Fittest will Survive." Various other theories, logical replies, well thought considerations are also on the list. So, the question is what we are here for? Is it just this mere battle of survival? Living each day and walking towards the next? This is absolutely we do, don't we? Get up every morning, fight a useless battle for hundreds of things-- food, water, living space, getting hold of hundreds of ways to have a never ending supply of all these and lot more. For some, these are just the basic requirements and they don't even think twice about any of these. They get it, have it, use it, forget it. And for some others, getting these is a lifelong battle in itself. Yet the both groups continue going on. The first group is having it all, never bothered about how they ever started to have it and look for something that is far more important for them. Their list of important things can be anything like how their business is doing, what they should do to make it grow more and do still better, what are their plans for weekends, how they'll enjoy their time with their families, what are the politically significant things happening in their country, how they'll do something interesting to kill the boredom some boring Sunday evening and so many more things. The second group has its own set of important things. They keep thinking about how they'll continue getting their supplies for food, water,living space, and so on. But the finality of all the battles is the same. Living today and dying some day up on the line. Isn't it like filling the gap between being born and being dead? As if some elementary school art teacher has given us a large picture to paint. It has the outlines but no colors inside. Our task is to sit and fill the colors till it is all done. Some of us will fill vibrant colors, others will go with dull and boring ones. Some will have just a few colors to use while others will make is like rainbow. But the thing is just the same -- filling it up till it is all done. Living -- fighting an uncertain battle to reaching the inevitable -- the death.

Then, why at all getting into this battle? Why at all filling the colors? What really is wrong about tearing up the page with that useless picture to paint? So, you're gone, huh? But you left something behind, do you know, or you don't? You've left a dirty streak of lonesome stupor filling up my heart, mind, senses. Here, my mind now has two parts. One is living in the present. It is the part that just doesn't think of anything at all. It has nothing to do with your life. It just doesn't care if you ever were alive. If you ever were somebody. It just doesn't know Who the Hell you are -- Who the Hell you were. It is like a story that nobody ever read, nobody will ever know if it existed. And yes, I'm living it. I'm not me while I live this being. I smell it, I feel it, I sense it, I know it. That being is nobody. Just a log -- it is living for no good reason. On the same old everyday battle -- the battle of survival and doesn't know when will it ever come to an end. The other one is not yet dead, not in any stupor. It knows everything. It thinks. It lives. It  understands. It uses logical reasoning to reason things. But this part is sad -- tremendously sad, deterrently sad. It keeps asking like a kid -- why did you die? Why everyone has to die? It tries to live, tries to face that everyday battle yet has one question to ask -- why? Why to live, if at the end we got to die? Why to meet, if in the end we depart? Why to have, if we got to give it all away? Why doing anything at all, if everything that we do ends up actually nowhere?