Misery loves company

A very sad thing happened today, a wonderful person went through a wrong and broke down in front of me... as the tears dropped down her cheek and she looked at me for advice, i gave it her all..the advice, the sympathy, the sermon, saying everything that was expected of someone responsible and considerate and maybe a little more. Why did I do it? What made me console her at length and comfort her pain? What made me spend twenty minutes instead of two minutes of sympathy...I wish it was the genuine consideration of a fellow human but most most unfortunately, I did it as I was relishing every moment of the episode. I may or may not admit, like many of us, but the fact is that misery loves company and it gives us great pleasure to console others. More the similarity between the incidence and your own "jane eyre" episode, more is the pleasure. I have often noticed people sucking comfort out of this vitual umbical cord between the sympathiser and the sympathisee. Its like comforting energy running from former to latter in form of sound & reflecting back , being doubled in force.

We all hate it when we are subjected to a wrong..at some level we almost hold entire world responsible for that and when the episode is repeated to someone else, preferably someone strikingly similar, you love it, cherish it, its a balm to the old wounds gone sour.

Realising what a feel good we are giving to the world, many intelligent people prefer to stick to themselves when in pain. Yet again, not because they can deal with the pain in a better when left on their own, but simply because they hate to give others an opportunity to seek comfort out of their misery. Very smart indeed.

But again, it does not cease to surprise me how can other's comfort become a bigger bother to us than our own misery. Why does it hurt us if others are enjoying your company in misery...how would it make us worse off. But whatever is the logic of the dear mind, it certainly does not hold true when we seek comfort from someone who has been through a similar experience...what happens then?? Why do I confide my clash at career with someone who does not have a job at all rather than the best performer?? Would the hero not help me better? Or do i feel that he would derive more pleasure out of my failure, when it is far more likely for a loser to be comforted by my loss. The games of mind are complicated. It is insecure and jealous, it is hurt and sensitive...

Whatever be the case: whether you are the jealous seeking comfort out of oher's misery or the vain refusing to share sorrows...everyone has reasons to be sad and unfortunately, the reasons always seem to be far more relative than absolute.

I have been here before

I know this road very well

I have tasted the tears you cry

I have the same story to tell

But today I laugh, I laugh at the ways

Ways in which Justice fails

Deep is my pain, but I am the Vain

I shall die but share

I know you do not care

Laugh if you must, but not at me

Deep is my pain, yet alone I shall be

U r a cheat..so m i

I am a cheat, a theif, a crook, a liar n probably a manipulator as well. This is not a confessional..well lets admit v all r...v all cheated at some time in life..cheated system in exams, our partners in relationships, our bosses n collegues n mostly ourselves. We all have picked on cookies mom hid in kitchen, our brother's best tee when he was not around, our company's car for a night out...we all have lied n manipulated. While most of these mischeifs are situational and usually done to serve some purpose, the purpose itself has a subject and an object. Object may vary from your boss to your boyfriend, cookie to car..but the subject of the purpose remains the same...it is the euphoria during the crime. The rush of blood while exchanging question papers to lifitng mom's perfume to faking up you whereabouts in front of your partner.
The drink of sin brings such a pleasure..such a high. The constnat fear to get caught, the tention in the air, the swiftness and stillness of the moment and the pure concentration during the act...the one moment when u r so completely into action. It is this addictive intoxicating drug created by our own brain that pulls a child to kitchen every time mother is out, which makes teenagers call their crushes late at night and which makes so many theives claim they did not mean to do what they did.
I, for once, enjoy this self induced euphoria so much that i have often pushed things off the edge hurting many of those whom i love and treassure just to apologise for my immature behavior. But is this tendency immature simply because "elders" have found substitutes to get high and they can do with artificial stimulators...but the question remains the same: are the sources of adult euphoria really the subject or are they just a comouflage to hide the addiction to their minds' whims... is it always the liquour that makes you high while drinking. I believe you are, more often than not, as high as you think you are (no psychology angle suggested) I have seen woman "cross limits" in the veil of liquor while others seriosuly wonder how can a human body go out of control in 100ml vodka...it is not the liquor but the rush to get out of control, the thought itself is intoxicating enough to make you drunk...
If so is the case, that idea of any kind of "wrong" can get us high, if it is so that there is no pleasure better than going anti-taboo, then this clearly indicates that the worst addiction v can get is discovering our ability to intoxicate ourselves..its like having a brewery right inside your head...and overconsumption is dangerous. You might love the racing heart beats, the slight darkness in thoughts, the fear in background and the quick and concentrated action..u might admire ur ballet to a state of perfect crime...but it is a dangerous trick to appease yourself and consequences are often worst than intended or imagined!!

I dance everynight, for my own desire
To feel rush in my veins, to set the blazing fire
To do what is wrong and do i must not
but weak i am, how is this heart to be fought
slave to my own mind, i perform in the night
victim of my own demons, who am i to fight...