Blame it on the world

Life can be hard, but suicide seems likes a cruel option. Daily, we face challenges, sometimes we overcome, other times the bugs in our design are revealed, we’re forced stare at our limits. Those times, living can really be painful, life can be sad. At such times our imperfections and faults are revealed to us. Though we try so hard, there’s only so much we can do, so far we can go, as we’re made to see.
At such times, we need to feel perfect once again, we need to know that we are winners. We need to be made to understand that our shortcomings are not of us, but of everything else. We need to be made to believe that amidst all these chaos, we are the only existing forms of perfection.
At those times when it hurts to be alive, we need somebody we can rant to. Somebody we can complain about the world to. Somebody who would nod their head to our tales in belief that though our world is a mess, it’s not our fault, but everything else’s.
We want to blame the sun, curse the moon, accuse the rain for our misfortunes. We want to blame a system, the other guy, just so we might feel perfect. We want to blame a faulty zipper or door lock, an unlit staircase, a late cab. We just want to shift the blame, we’ve borne it for too long, or so we think.
Also, we want to be praised for our little successes, congratulated on our minor wins. We want our triumph though they be little, to be blown out of proportion, just like our faults usually are. We want to feel special, unique, powerful, great, perfect. We want to feel perfect.
Just blame it on the world.


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