ABHI_CONSC

There are no strong men or beautiful women .  - Charles Bukowski  All of it is a facade casted on our perceptions to stick to this dance of society.  The futile attempt that I'm great or unique is what kills us all. But are we?  No we aren't , just same pathetic old hags shining our lamp to bring out a jeeni. But there is no lamp no jeenie.  We all meet the same inevitable fate. One might despise such world and tend to live for oneself.  They will find love , the hug and the kiss of life . so that one winter night one can say i lived my life.  

Everything is perfect with philosophy and with it the sense of knowing (the self acclamation/ and going with (especially how they say - with time ) Till it doesn't turn towards your ,like a pet loved and cared and celebrated till it doesn't bite you.  For more easier view Assume it to be a gun t, one loaded with your belief and ideas . Now it feels good when it's shooting outside or something external to Of one's being . But what problamatizes it , is the gun turning back to one own embodiment. When faced with their own belief in a more personal sphere.  One tends to shed them as easily as one acquired it .  "A thing once a reason to be lived for can be great reason to die too." Albert Camus , The outsider.  Seeing it as such one might see the horrors of philosopher. The nights that devours them , The thought that strangulate them  The light which turns them blind. One might go on and on arguing where i m wrong but seems like it's how it is.