I could possibly be in denial. The condition in which a person justifies everything favoring to one's own fairytale-ish thoughts. But unfortunately you can't frame me on that this time . This is a shameless confession on my presumably self-destructive behavior. Or better put as an idea.
I'm complaining. I took me a long while to figure the name for the ongoing process for I was constantly tapping on the imaginary denial button in my head which was pretty fun to play with, honestly speaking. I could conclude from the end findings which followed the revelation, I wasn't actually doomed. To my relief, I wasn't.
What's wrong with complaining ? Have you had like one day in your life that you accept every single thing which happened? It could be the simplest ones like the morning alarm to phone notifications, we all have something that ticks us off . We wear our complaints the same way we wear our shades. Whenever necessary! It doesn't matter if it's RayBan or the one from an accessory shop behind your house, classiest or a useless complaint, we are certainly guilty of some. Or maybe not? Think again.
I guess complaints are fine. As long as you are not miserable everyday, it is of course alright to whine and lament. Our head do need quick intense surge of emotions like annoyance and anger combined in speedball motion now and then to just set us apart from robots and other gadgets the technology has given birth to. The only thing that makes us who we are, the Humans.
I have complaints. Sometimes I can't even stop listing because they never end. It's so long I could make or break a record if there's any. But duhh, like I care? My complaints are comfortably occupying my head space not as a tenant but merely the furniture. Fully controlled by me. I move them, destroy them and manipulate them how-so-ever I wish.
And I believe a man without complaints is a man without thoughts. Come on, who wants to be that?
Renuka G
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