Resigned

I wake up and don’t bother to change my pajamas. They’re probably the ones I shagged in last night and the night before. The bathroom door beckons; the rich browns calling and chastising me for my complete lack of responsibility and hygiene. I ignore the call to brush my teeth, take a shower and shave and walk to the kitchen and make myself a black, sugarless, insipid coffee that tastes more like foul-tasting medicine than coffee. I walk to the balcony smelling like shit and sit and light a cigarette and look at the closeted garden in the apartment complex I live in. The greens and light browns dance to the aubade of some couple making morning love in the apartment downstairs. I guess their rhythmic pounding should invigorate me and make me see the little butterflies flitting around the greens and the light browns in a fresher light; make me embrace the soft chill of the morning; make me look up at the grey sky that’s turning blue and sing a song of praise for the nuances of twilight and the shifts of color, but their gasps, giggles, and sighs make me look around and realize just how shitty my life is. Here I am, a paunched, bearded man, barely existing because of prescription pills and I can’t be another. Here I am, a thirty-year-old ashen teethed, sour breathed, chain-smoking, energy drink addicted, sorrowed man who hasn’t fucked a woman in years and I can’t be another. Here I am, an avid reader of all the philosophies and theologies I cannot apply to my life, and I can’t be another. Here I am, a night porn Owl, my dick hooting while some whore and some man-whore get it on and I can’t be another. Here I am, here I stand, here I fall, here I fucking fade.

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)

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5 Comments

  1. Dear Nitin, this piece, “Resigned”, captures the inward self-apathy of the narrator, yet at the same time he’s so keen to share in great detail all of the happenings taking place around him in this brief slice of morning by way of the five senses, allowing the reader to experience these things too. Your ability to develop a visual picture is stunning and beautiful in spite of the underlying theme of discontentment. Vicariously I was right there, except for beard, paunch and the dick hooting. There is definitely no fading in this writing, it’s outstanding. Thanks for the medicine coffee and the smoke. ~ Mia

    1. Dear Mia,
      Thank you so much for such a generous comment. You write comments that I love devoting attention to and I’m never sure if my replies really give them justice. Apathy and self-loathing as muses. I’ve fallen far! Jokes aside, there are days when there is so much inner despair that I just have to purge it out, but it sadly becomes an addiction. Relieving myself verbally and then going back to brooding. It’s a struggle. One day I hope to write happier pieces or at least something with depth that’s more positive. And I’m the one who should be thanking you this evening while I smoke and drink my energy drink!

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