The real world is too fucking unreal!

This---^  is not what this post should be called. It is about Holi. The more apt title would have been "Holi Hai", "Rang De" or something that is happy and emanates good vibes. But I guess the context i am in forbids me to do so. The following post might seem  unplanned and desultory, which in a way it is, but this is the best possible way I can put all my thoughts and reactions down.

Yes, I played Holi. I have always liked playing Holi. I love colours- in my wardrobe, in and on my notebooks, on my walls, my toothbrush, the covers i put on my books et al. So naturally Holi, in a way, is my kinda shit! 

Yes, my hands are still crimson. Somehow the pukka colours have kept their promise. It makes me wonder though, how things work the way they do. How the same thing can be seen and contused in ways that can sometimes question your sanity. The hands which I see as coloured by innocent smearing of colours and joy on others with no intent of any animosity are seen by other as blood-stained hands which are guilty of strangling someone's sentiments. 

Yes, a part of me dies every day and I grieve, I look at others rejoicing for the loss they didn't face, cherishing something they might have lost but didn't. I smile a reluctant smile but am slowly seeped into the mood. The grief persists but doesn't force itself unto other. I cry, SO WHAT! I do not want the world to cry with me. Seriously, I don't. 

Yes, I have thought about death nth number of times. What happens after? How does one feel the moment before? These are almost classical existential questions, don't think anyone who lives even a moment as human escapes them.Its easy to die, but hard to remain dead. I will live through the life that I would leave behind, if not in the grand history of humanity(a term I am supposedly not allowed to use, since I am an 'inhuman moron' ) but surely in a history that some will care to remember. It is for them that I want a celebration, even if there are tears. A frigging themed funeral in fact. With good music, great food, coloured costumes and amazing pictures that remind of a life lived fully. A life lived spontaniously(read un-diplomatically). My point is I live to make people around me happy (of course I don't succeed always, but my intent remains) why would I , when I die somewhere in the vague future, want to leave them sad.

Yes, I am saddened by what I saw in last few harrowing hours. I am shocked how at how simple I take matters to be and how equally convoluted they actually are. I am distresses by the how inhuman I really am. I am disillusioned by the glamorous prospect that the knowledge I am trying to gather stands to promise.

May be I am spoiled, sadist, and ' cosmopolitan, half-baked Sylvia Plath, with an obnoxious over-dose of neo-liberal individualism'(probably the best compliment paid to till date, even if done left-handedly.) and with a profuse overflow of 'ego-fuckin-centric insensitivity'. But seriously, I am tired, exhausted of all emotions and intellect and all I need right now is probably a nice bath and a huge, no ginormous bowl of my favourite sundae.

Yes, I will repeat the title here, appropriately without footnotes or commentary--> "The real world is too fucking unreal"