are you poisoned? obviously you are. the question is, can you be cured? obviously not. once you are in, you are in for the rest of your days. the adolescence will pass, the furs of manhood would shed and before you will know, you will be shitting in a plastic bag and popping pills for arthritis. now the only question is, how badly are you affected. now that is the question you would have to answer for yourself.
now, let me guess. it started from 'how i met your mother', a group of people whom you refer to as friends, gathered up on a house couch or a hostel bed and set up a trend. but as your hunger grew, the quality of the episodes deteriorated. then and there, you decided to move to something else, and you do not anymore give a damn to how he met the mother. but now, the world was full of options and choices, you start feeling like a bird who has just left the crib of a nest and is out in the air, eyeing for a new tree to dwell on, feed on. game of thrones, was it? or breaking bad, i suppose? but you just can't stop can you? didn't i tell you, you are poisoned!
you sit before the screen for hours at a stretch, staring and staring. sometimes squeaking, sometimes gasping, as the story demands. sometimes yelling 'fuck, fuck' as some guy appears shouting 'did you miss me' with a joker face, or if some beloved stark is beheaded suddenly. for a moment, as the episode ends and you find yourself looking at yourself through the black screen. do you love seeing yourself. or are you even able to see past the red eyed face of yours and have a peep into the miserable, sucking life of yours. a perfectly mellow series of days and nights with no interesting friends and no class of enemies. so, you trade.
you trade, in the life saving sticks, the drugs. the poisons. the getaways. the mini windows to the appealing life of others, that you live 48-55 minutes at a time. and you dwell on, what starts from the pilot, occasionally the unaired one, ends with a suspense that you just can't live with. you wait, and you wait, you see the trailors, dig for the clues, and you do not see it ending.
now read the first line!
aren't you?
now, let me guess. it started from 'how i met your mother', a group of people whom you refer to as friends, gathered up on a house couch or a hostel bed and set up a trend. but as your hunger grew, the quality of the episodes deteriorated. then and there, you decided to move to something else, and you do not anymore give a damn to how he met the mother. but now, the world was full of options and choices, you start feeling like a bird who has just left the crib of a nest and is out in the air, eyeing for a new tree to dwell on, feed on. game of thrones, was it? or breaking bad, i suppose? but you just can't stop can you? didn't i tell you, you are poisoned!
you sit before the screen for hours at a stretch, staring and staring. sometimes squeaking, sometimes gasping, as the story demands. sometimes yelling 'fuck, fuck' as some guy appears shouting 'did you miss me' with a joker face, or if some beloved stark is beheaded suddenly. for a moment, as the episode ends and you find yourself looking at yourself through the black screen. do you love seeing yourself. or are you even able to see past the red eyed face of yours and have a peep into the miserable, sucking life of yours. a perfectly mellow series of days and nights with no interesting friends and no class of enemies. so, you trade.
you trade, in the life saving sticks, the drugs. the poisons. the getaways. the mini windows to the appealing life of others, that you live 48-55 minutes at a time. and you dwell on, what starts from the pilot, occasionally the unaired one, ends with a suspense that you just can't live with. you wait, and you wait, you see the trailors, dig for the clues, and you do not see it ending.
now read the first line!
aren't you?
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