God Hates Us All

If you know where the title comes from, well good! If you don’t, I don’t care because it is irrelevant. The fact of matter is that He/She really does hate us. Look around; what feels good? What here is a blessing? Look inside, how messed up are we as humans? Flawed, degenerate, uninspired. Pushing ourselves into some sort of Alexithymia (yeah, look it up!) to function like machines, because the rut makes it easy to bear. He really hates us, else order would’ve been easy, chaos wouldn’t have led to change, and everything would just work itself out like an eternally smooth, well-oiled machine.

But they don’t. So He hates us to make us the way He did.

Take an emotion for example, maybe happiness. We all look for it, every single day, inside us, outside us, in hanging out with friends, in just lazing & lying curled in bed all day, in bending our bodies in weird shapes and calling it yoga, in a few drinks, in the addict’s Js and snorts, between the legs of the opposite sex, or as far away from them as you can, everywhere in a nutshell. We try so hard to find it every day we wake. Well my question is this, who the hell said you deserve any? 

There isn’t a metric to calculate how much of it you have and you will find. It’s not like He set a chart up for your life and said, you know what Siva, 30 units of happiness is all you’ll find in your life and I give you free will to spread it across your life as and when you think is right. You deserve it. Now is 30 units a good amount of happiness in an average life? He didn’t tell! So what a unit a year for the first 30 years and then it all goes south? Is the rest of my life going to be devoid of happiness? How about I divide it in equal units to spread it across the span of my life so that I have a constant supply of it through out. Yeah, sounded like a plan to me, but there was just one problem.

I wake up the next morning and wonder how long am I going to be alive. If I don’t know that, I cant split it. So there goes the plan of splitting happiness in equal parts, down the pipe along with my morning coffee and the resulting turd. Wooooosh!

If he didn’t hate us, he would have informed me, Siva, you get 60 years and 30 units of happiness. Don’t spend the years roaming around city to city thinking you’ll find love here, or recognition there, or money in the middle. Do something worthwhile. But he didn’t. You know what else he didn’t inform? All the other ingredients in his mix recipe. But I did manage to find out through research about the 26 other ingredients. Want to know what they are? Here I go, alphabetically:

Admiration - like I have for SRK, a Delhi ka launda who made it big.

Adoration - like i used to adore this chick in office, a feeling stronger than love, but temporary, unsustainable.

Aesthetic appreciation - Malaika Arora Khan, God dang that woman!

Amusement - when I see stupid people who think they are in charge. Damn that makes me laugh. 

Anxiety - the feeling that grows in you with every passing birthday.

Awe - like when in kayaked all the way into the sea to see the sun set on the horizon. 

Awkwardness - is usually what makes appearance in heavy quantities after I walk upto an unknown woman at a bar.

Boredom - what she feels listening to me, at the bar.

Calmness - the last time I felt it was when the masseuse at a shady spa in Bangalore jerked me off to a happy ending. Damn those east asian candles do make you feel like you’ve ascended, and arrived. 

Confusion - what happens at the spa after the ascension and the arrival.

Craving - can somebody please love me for the damaged goods that I am? Somebody, please!

Disgust - mirror mirror on the wall...

Empathetic pain - for some reason I feel this when I look at a pregnant woman; my balls hurt just looking at them. Does that explain it? No? I am weird? I don’t know, man.

Entrancement - the few moments that you enjoy when you see a pretty girl joining your team, as your junior, till the day you realise that she has successfully got you by the balls, enslaved you to do all her work, and makes you praise her looks every single day.

Envy - what you then feel for the guys who stayed away from her. 

Excitement - Ive forgotten what this means. Ive forgotten what this feels like. Where is death? Is it here yet?

Fear - is what keeps you where you are, where you were, where you forever will be. 

Horror - the realisation that life has passed by. 

Interest - is everything that you believed you could be when you were 9. They don’t matter now. 

Nostalgia - the longing to be that 9 year old again. Too bad. 

Romance - Hahahahahaha! right.

Sadness - hello my forever friend. Why you always here even when i no call you?

Satisfaction - I remember the song, I remember what I did watching the song. I remember what satisfaction felt like after i did what I did watching the song. 

Sexual desire - 3 times a day, daily for the past 20 years. 

Sympathy - all I ever get.

Triumph - all I never get.

Look at that guys. 27 all together. Now let me ask this. I give you 27 frigging ingredients, but no timeline whatsoever, and I ask you make a dish out of it. What’s going to happen? I’ll tell you whats going to happen. Us, humans. We are that dish made by yours truly, the God himself.

Not his finest dish, not his first dish, hopefully not his last dish, but clearly his least favourite dish, which I also believe he made holding the ingredients in his ass crack, high on acid, sorting coke, while motor-boating the silicone loaded mammaries of a celestial hooker. Yep, that’s us. The odd mix of random emotions, all messed up in our own way, trying to make it to an end we have no mother-fornicating clue about. I bet your ass He has created a self sustaining laugh riot for his entertainment, and he hates us.

How we survived with all of this is beyond me. And what I am trying to say here is that we all are our own ass-cooked dish. What I poop will never be similar to what you poop. That’s life; so don't compare. Live it up the way you want. If you want to draw a pentagram on your chest, host an orgy, then wake up the morning and ride a camel to work, why not? He will still laugh at you. Might as well enjoy one yourself.