Dear World, I hate you.

Half the articles in this book will be love stories. Boy meets girl, falls in love. Hearts break.

Is it just the hilly views of our tiny frontier or is that all that our minds fathom at this age? Sun will shine, so shall the moon. You’ll write and be forgotten soon. I hate love stories. I hate those who write love stories. I hate the stupid smiles. I hate the cheesy dimples. Yes, god-damn it, I hate them. Yes, I have taken the God’s name in vain. But isn’t He vain. Giving us life at his will and taking it away similarly. Either you don’t give it or if you have given it don’t just take it away when you deem fit. So much for the ultimate freedom of human choice, all just liberal-atheist propaganda. There’s no ultimate freedom, you weren’t born by your own choice, and there cannot be ultimate freedom. You will read this, you will toss it away. You might not read this, you will toss it away.

Nothingness has an artistic beauty that no thing can ever obtain. Hence, I wish to write nothing worthwhile here. Maybe it will add some beauty to this mushy creature. Maybe it will be tossed outside by the editor, for who wants to read nonsensical articles now. I do. There are too many sensibilities, latent prejudices, too many do-gooders, to many hard-working people around. Too many wanna be messiahs-if-i-had-the-time people now. Be bad, be nice, be human. Be whatever you are. Or rather please don’t be what you are, ‘coz you might just end up being the prick of the classroom.

I hate you. I hate myself too if that is any consolation. I hate the concept of the all devouring rain or the all destroying heat. I hate having to wake up in the morning. I hate waking up late feeling lazy. This isn’t a hate mail. It’s a love letter to all you self-condescending goth/emo punks out there. Don’t worry folks you aren’t the only one who hate yourself, I hate you too, now quit whining and get me a glass of scotch on the rocks please.

But sometimes I hate the fact that love is so hard. I hate that hearts break. I hate love matters so much. Do away with it. Love is not the way. Love is the by-lane that leads to nowhere. People fall in love and rise out of it. But everyone does fall in love. The silent guy in the end corner seat has too. That cheerful ugly girl has blushed at glances too. They too think people are thinking of them. Ah, load of non sense.

Yes it’s getting a tad too long. If you wish to stop reading, do so now, rest of it is as empty as the above. Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe this is the foundation stone to the greatest story ever told. Hang on Shakespeare in me is yet to wake up from his alcohol induced slumber. Naah, chuck it. He ain’t waking up any time soon. Leave it now. Turn the page. That’s it. Nothing more here now. Bugger off.