Consistent bad luck

Whenever I experience some passage of time in my life, I get complacent about its whole course. Probably this is the point where it'll fit in nicely. Will reach somewhere stable. But leaving that ridiculously maudlin illusion, it never fails to burst on my face in pieces .. in its prime ugliness.
And that is why I'm still grappling with the venom flung at me by people I shared my mascara with once. Shocked by all that people seem to know about me. Numb that the dreaded thought was repeated once more, this time in front of more people who will chuckle at my analysis over coffee.

So I have a 'black' spirit. I do not leave people without first breaking them apart from others. And no relationship can stay intact if my presence happens to steer close to it: people leave each other for me ( even though it seems too bloody juvenile to state things like this, I just have to go on and bitch), And women start choosing each other. All because of me. And someone has lately discovered this and is stating it with much delight.

Even though it seems preposterous that ANYONE would bother to give me such importance and control over their lives, a part of it still fits a sound description of a 'witch' like character. And of course I've ideally ranted against such attempts before... I wonder if anyone knows of the nights I've spent holed up in my room with drawn curtains , making passing words spin around in my head.

The first time I ever heard this was from a man I was trying not to know too well. And of course it surprised me as it was my little secret. And now it is from a woman. For long I had convinced myself that groups break with my arrival because I end up exposing the farce and circles within them. But that conclusion sounds so self-involved that I've firmly rejected it by now.

One month has been spent predictably. Shaking imperceptibly when I heard it and now just going on with my work. All the time devising ways to cause her enough pain to understand my mind and the time that was. Why is there no dignity left after people exhaust each other's utility values? And then sleep dreamily envisioning many people apologizing to me , and then we all walk ahead towards something different.

I mean, hell, of course, I don't care about people and all that. But its a nice thought to get drunk over.
Obviously I'll get over all this just like things in the past. And then wait for another blast some other day.

Even though I've never felt the dire need to surround myself with voices, the dynamics amongst them really gets me thinking.

I see so many trying to be someone they are not. And too many doing such sick stuff. To their wives. Their daughters. Their 'best' friends. But we still exalt them to a better place. All in the name of what? culture...family.... Why is it that when you don't pretend, no one seems to understand you?
Maybe all personalities are already laid out in pretty boxes and there's no room for dissimilar ones. World is too busy with black and white. On the periphery.
And anyone eating alone in a restaurant is necessarily lonely. And anyone who thinks nothing of gender divide is necessarily a slut. And anyone who doesn't fit into our boxes is fucked up. Even the all-American Brietney Spears.
Maybe that is why I can be nothing else but 'black'.