the blackened thought...gayism(must read)Very interesting by posted to‎Oscar Shakespeare Ghitto

Once again, I find that I have been lying lazily in my tiny little room. Alone. Sleep must have tried to kidnap me but then, something stronger forces me to keep my eyes open. The feeling is quite certain. I can almost guess how it will be. Cold shivers run across my face. Then, almost suddenly i realize that the music is playing. The rhythm is slow. It is a like a certain powerful drug. Iam beginning to get drowsy. I find that am floating in unknown world, yet am its inhabitant. My thoughts briefly and abruptly shift to the real world. In the same train of events, my gaze is shifted from the semi-dark floor to my hands. A resemblance has registered. My fears have already labored. It cannot be.

The resemblance of my hands and the dark room has hit me like a thunderbolt. I behave as if I have come to know of this word only today. Black. Somehow, I start feeling the darkness of the room almost chocking. I jump from my bed to the switch. With a click of the switch, it has disappeared. The feeling of triumph rents my heart. I have defeated it. Be gone darkness. I want to cheer at myself but then I realize that it is only foolish. I defeated the darkness. What of the blackness? If only I can rip my skin off.

The brief moment of triumph has already worn off. I then find myself giving way to bitter tears. The waves torturing my heart are slow with their movement. Yet mighty. I feel that the sinister darkness has also invaded my spiritualism. It has painted everything black. Charcoal.

“They say we are un accommodative lot. A bunch of faithless baboons. Certainly we have no roots. We only cling to what superiority has to offer.” These words seem to crawl back to my conscious memory. They then clash with my fate. It’s a nasty war. I muse to myself, roots. What about them? If they have been corroded, why would the corroder point that one out? It is a way of making us eat their food. Not ours. Ours is bitter and a pointer to our backwardness. I muse to myself. In a tear washed face, I sigh. The point has already woven its nest.

The music comes into a halt. I stand up and stretch myself a little. It has its own ways of making me feel better. Then, I want to shake off those evil thoughts. I want to go back to my world. A world where I really belong. For am ashamed of myself. I realize that am very angry at myself. Such thoughts should not rent my mind ever again. I cannot force myself to change my thought, the way I cannot force gayism on people. Necessary as think it might be, it is not just. It would be no different with the head of the family advocating his diabetic meal to his family. He cannot trash the normal food for its in capabilities to provide enough proteins. Everyone should focus on his own meal. It is better that way. No one will cross the boundaries or advocate his meal to the other. Gayism. Slowly, sleep subtly manages to reign. Back to my disturbed sleep.
 By

‎Oscar Shakespeare Ghitto