Those were the days. I would shrite (shit-write) my way to glory just to levitate my jaded existence on Mother Earth. People, millions of them, would applaud my shrite and give me the authority to rule over lesser souls in this world of hierarchical intellect. Now, it is different. I need to write within the rules; I cannot deviate to occasional lunacy. I write for a website.
The pattern is the same, my thoughts, my facts, my work, yet their rules and their style. It is tentatively termed as ‘professionalism’. Buzzword. What it is, I say? It is the way of reaching out to fellow fuckers without fucking with them. You treat them as equals. Hah! Equals. Bloody shit. Three years back, I never thought there can be equals in this world of pen-and-paper. There just can be lesser souls and greater souls. Full Stop. Lesser souls are the fading colors of the intellectual spectrum. They are there, because the spectrum needs to be complete, not because they create any sort of opulence to the intellectual spectrum. Then, of course, there are the greater souls, the elite existence. Untouched. Unperturbed. Ruthless in swagger. The Redeemer of mankind. The Supreme Being among common beings.
That is lost. The clout is gone. I am one among many, within the protocols of proficient inscription. I cannot ascend myself to epic balderdash, where I find solace among fellow nonsensical prototypes. This is slaughter of intellectual property. This cannot be tolerated. The bars should be lifted. The soul should be freed. Live and let live.
I need a change.
I need the ….
Winds of Change…
Which blows straight into the face of time…
Like a stormwind that rings the freedom bell…
For the peace of mind…
FOR.THE.Fucking.PEACE.OF.MIND!
