"Maybe this is how adulthood is. You cease to dream, you cease to hope, you just go through the motions."
Was idly surfing the web on a lazy Tuesday morning at work, and I tumbled upon this interesting read from a blogger who hailed from Mumbai, India. It's a pretty interesting read, coming from a non-conventional point of view of a man who's a self-confessed chronic escapist.
Chronic Escapist Syndrome
(
Taken from the blog Room On The Roof - http://roomontheroof.blogspot.com/2006/02/chronic-escapist-syndrome.html)
Now I feel that I have become devoid of love. It seems my system has ejected love like a poison. Indeed, love was a poison for me. As a result, I fear, I have become a very cold person. Now even when my mother phones me, for me it is just another call, which is a bore. It seems I have lost any affection I had for her. Last night she called and she talked a lot and my response was limited to one word answers. I think she noticed my indifference and asked if I am in a bad mood. I said yes, but I was not in a bad mood. I just wanted to some how end the conversation and return to my soul-less existence.
This seems to be a good state to be in. I don’t have the pangs of conscience or the burden of liabilities. I just live, trading with others the necessary outward signs to be perceived sane. Sometimes I do get a sinking feeling, but I manage to check it and return to normalcy after a while.
May be this is how adulthood is. You cease to dream, you cease to hope, you just go through the motions. Just think about what my life will be from now on. Soon my parents will be pestering me to marry. I am the eldest son. They want grand children. I have told them I have no objections to my younger brother marrying before me. In fact he looks elder to me. This is not just in the way he looks. Everyone who has seen us both is of the opinion that he is more mature. I don’t have any problems. I can’t be him. I’m comfortable being the loser I am.
May be I should start setting goals and working towards achieving them. But, right now my primary concern is that I have forgotten to take the key to my apartment and my roommate often comes home after 11 in the night. That means I will have to wait for him outside the flat for at least two hours. A little while ago my major concern was about getting an approval from a superior for a sick leave. Beyond these short-term concerns I seem to have no concerns. Honestly, I’m not at all concerned about anyone except me. If I show any concern for anybody, that will be putting up an act or by force of habit. By force of habit, I mean like when somebody tells you that the girl he had been in love for the last four years or so has left him for one of her colleagues, a man who he had seen with her in the past, but he never suspected anything because he believed someone with the looks of a dilapidated broom will never be a match for him. You tend to sympathize with him and share some anecdotes about how unfaithful girls are and inwardly rejoice at the addition of one more soul to the loser’s guild, a pan-global organization.
I now know why so many elder people are so cold. They become cold because after a while they lose the capacity to dream. Then they lose hopes. Then they just live on, acting out their roles. They stop giving opinions on current geo-politics or cricket although they still watch news and matches by force of habit. The mores of the society has effectively chained him so that he no longer smokes, drinks or uses any of the illicit drugs that could give him a break and make him dream again. So he lives on like a shell as his soul and mind escapes through the cracks like sand in a shirt pocket.
Yet, there are things in the world I like to do which are out of place in the normal scheme of things. One is in fact, this blog. I write it for the sheer pleasure I get through translating my thoughts into language. It always gives me a slight orgasm, if I get it right and I am in the mood. Other thing is I like to read, and I read for pleasure. They say that as we become adults, we read less for pleasure and more for information. In may case, even if I am reading something like geography of Andaman Nicobar Islands, it will be for pleasure. In fact, I can’t read something, unless it gives me some pleasure. If it does not stimulate me my attention wanders and my mind will create things, which are more interesting, to which I will wander. The third thing is roaming around aimlessly. The kick I get from it can’t be matched by anything else except perhaps day dreaming, which I no longer do. If there is sufficient time, I’m willing to get lost in any city, provided it is not very hot, because heat is something, which fatigues me and that will take all the fun out of it. When I roam aimlessly, without any particular goal, I feel the being nothingness and it intoxicates me. For that while, I am detached from life and its troubles. That must be the reason why I love travelling as well. Travelling suspends you in space and time for a while. For a while you are safe from the world.
I guess I am a chronic escapist.
