Why Is Women’s Virginity So Important?

It isn’t. If nations had honest taglines based on their socio-cultural development in the modern times, India’s would have been “Marital Rape? Cool. Pre-Marital Loss of Virginity? FUCK NO.” because it would honestly describe how far we have come in all these years when it comes to sexuality, taboos and in strict senses of sexual freedom, gender equality too.

I think these gender-specific shackles of virginity are grossly unjust towards women. I’m not exactly an advocate of women’s rights (which I hope you wouldn’t misconstrue as “I yell at my girlfriend in public for expressing her political views”) and yet, when a mere outsider, a non-advocate feels the need to so much as speak about it with a certain amount of critical rage, I think the message about how gross it is should be visible in considerable magnification. When it comes to bare sexuality and especially virginity, we are still an orthodox lot, not just as India, but as the whole world. Let me explain this to you with the power of your own vision. When I say “A Virgin”, what do you see? I see a beautiful, 20-year-old young girl in white robes, honestly. And I am dead sure you see something similar if not vaginas, although some may go as far as seeing that. I don’t blame you, it is how we have been growing up – reading, listening and talking about it. But say, on listening to the word Virgin, does anyone see uncircumcised dicks? Or any kind of dicks? Heck does anyone even see a handsome man in white robes?

Now further, the assertion is also based on the fact that you would religiously remember a virgin woman with the adjective stuck to her name, thus kind of emphasizing that her virginity was the most important thing about her life. Other words, Virgin Mary. Why cannot she just be Mary, the mother of Jesus? Okay she gave birth to a child with the supposed interference of a Holy Spirit and no man was involved in the act (remember that Anakin Skywalker was also born the same way but no one called his mother Virgin Shmi), but just to remind the world that this birth was magical, why couple the mother’s name with a permanent adjective which she probably regrets anyway? I mean, we all want sex right? And if there was such a pushing necessity to emphasize on the fact that Jesus was no ordinary, why couldn’t you say Biologically Fatherless Jesus or Jesus The Magically Born? It even has a nice ring to it. While saying all this, I also want you to remember that this isn’t a mindless rant in a sudden fit of feminism. I am strictly talking about our obsession with virginity.  Every culture, every civilization, every religion underlines some importance or necessity of virginity. Some religion wants the blood of virgin women, some cultures like those of the Greeks asked for virgin women, who could be messengers of the Gods in ancient times, and some others like the Indian culture ask women to stay virgins in their youths because it is chaste, which apparently also means that God likes it. I don’t see how is God always involved. Does it mean He can smell dick and is repelled by it? No? That hurts your religious sentiments?

I don’t know how it is where you stay but in India where I stay, there is this thing called an arranged marriage, which you have probably heard of. In this system, parents sit over cups of tea and decide who can nail their children for the rest of the children’s lives based on the nailing-enthusiast’s family’s social status. In this arrangement if a girl candidly admits to having had a sexual intercourse in the past, the guy’s set of parents can go as far as asking the girl’s set of parents something that can well be translated to what you would ask the cashier at Walmart when you go home and see that the seal of the pack of cookies you bought is already broken. If it can be any more blunt, you would say “Look at your nerve! You tried selling me an already opened and used commodity?!”

Yes, they take virginity that seriously. The depth of this problem is so grave; it needs to be measured in time rather than any other unit. When I think of it, I guess this system of praising virgin women, linking them with chastity and promotion of virginity until marriage was all done in ancient times so that people would not fuck around like animals and the institution of marriage would be saved, which was really a wise way of doing it because it went on to become successful. It was like saying, “Hey daughter, you can go fuck Ed in the neighbourhood and lose your virginity, no problem because I’m a modern 7thcentury BC, open minded dad, but God can smell dick and he don’t like it. What you gon’ do about that, huh?” But then, I guess some forefather mistakenly fucked some fore-aunt in the dark (can’t blame him, he lived in a 7th century B.C. joint family and there was no Tesla to invent the bulb) and the product of incest created all the dumb shit crowd in the middle years which believed in stuff like monkeys believe in, well, stuff. But I think it’s all changing because in the last couple of centuries we have fucked as outside of our families as possible and also because if I can understand this much, which is so little really, there must be brighter fucks out there who can and would certainly know better.

This all goes to say, of course don’t fuck around and destroy the institution of marriage but don’t make a fucking demon out of virginity. It is not important at all. Just something your body is meant to lose some random day. It is in fact not even more important than something as small the mobile phone in which you’re reading this. How? Here’s how: What would you prefer losing more when you wake up tomorrow morning? This phone or your virginity?

That there, is your answer.

 

PS: When I thought about where did all this come from, I realized it was because 51-year-old Salman Khan said “I am still a virgin”, on a talk show. It angered me to see how he was keeping up with the taboo, promoting it. If it’s true that he’s a virgin, he has literally lived this cartoon. Fucking dick.

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Why Are Their Butts Soft?

If you began reading this with a sincere sense of curiosity, congratulations! You must know that you have voluntarily, secretly declared that you are a hard butt, which is good because no one is going to be anal with you.

Now let me begin with what this is not. If you’re looking for shitty, foul words, bad, degrading, degenerate, deteriorating, despicable, dick humour (just trying to show off my D-knowledge. Pun sincerely not intended because that’d make me sound gay), congratulations again (see, we celebrated two things inside two paragraphs. You’re going to enjoy this). Great choice coming here. If you’re however looking for something docile towards today’s social standards of writing and speaking where you cannot call a retard despite her being a batshit retard, and you’re hurt because of the gay joke and hurt also because while talking about retards I said her instead of him, thus disrespecting women and showing what a dirty, chauvinistic pig I am, this isn’t for you. If you’re hurt because of all this, it self-evidences the fact that you’re a soft butt. And it is exactly your soft butt that I am talking about here. Anyone whose parents aren’t siblings (that eliminates Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella from this round) may have now gathered the simple knowledge that these soft butts are those that get easily pierced by something as simple, as technically benign as words.

Getting hurt by words is completely human and therefore normal, true. But that is applicable only until the words come from someone really important in your life. Then again, it isn’t the words that would do the damage. It will rather be the thought. For example, if your mother tells you that you are a retard, you wouldn’t even so much as look up from your phone but if she tells you that your father is actually her first cousin and therefore your rather slow understanding of things is justifiable, you’re certainly going to feel hurt. After five minutes. And that sums up all the getting hurt because of words in the world. Only those whom you love can hurt you with words. And because of this very reason, random people getting hurt for random things that other random people randomly say somewhere on the internet is, I reckon, unnatural and to some serious extent, abnormal too.

Look around and you’ll see them everywhere. They’re fighting because someone calls someone else fat, retard, black, ugly, brown, gay, slut and what not. I don’t understand this. Whereas it is justifiable that you’re not going to stand someone insulting someone else seriously or someone being insensitive to someone else on purpose – without a tinge of humour to it, it isn’t justifiable when a joke, no matter how inappropriate, how degenerate stirs you up. And if it does, you can always give it back to them with a harder joke, a better roast but for fuck’s sake stop putting up these banners of “How Could You Call Her A Slut When You Could Have Easily Said She Is A Woman With Her Choices And Her Body?” Every bad word resonating to women, or describing the lifestyles of some of them isn’t necessarily misogyny. If that’s true you should kiss the asses of all the pigs in the world for the next 8000 years for identifying and comparing them with dirty looks.

What you don’t understand is, you, the butt-hurts, are a major part of the society and your I-am-easily-annoyed attitude is conditioning people to mentally become your puppets. Just because you can lash at them, just because your community consists of supposedly intelligent people, the wise ones, others are scared of you and are unknowingly following you into thinking and saying only those things that you would rule socially acceptable and further, be pleased to hear.  I see people on Quora answering questions with so much bullshit, it is disturbing and at the same time saddening. Before writing any answer that may have something to do with women, racial differences or castes or religions, they first have to churn a lot of shit about how they don’t mean to be mean, how they’re not being offensive and how they’re apologetic to anyone who is hurt because of their answers. Do you see what are you doing here? You are pushing one whole generation into mental slavery by making them believe through fear of getting ambushed that only a certain way of thinking or saying things is appropriate. You’re doing what the whites did to the blacks. Only it isn’t physical this time around. Further, your tremendous outrage at someone saying something which you deem unacceptable underlines the fact that your ideology can go on to become a social threat at some point. Sounds farfetched? Let me cite one incident from the recent past.

In January 2015, gunmen walked in Charlie Hebdo’s central office and killed 12 people as a reply to the magazines satirical post about Islam and their Prophet. This happened after the magazine had received several threats over the stretch of a long time. Something as benign as pencils and pens pierced these extremists’ soft butts and resulted in them physically assaulting, killing those whose sketches and words displeased them.

It may sound unreasonable to you because you certainly wouldn’t walk out of your house with a gun to kill someone just because of their online comments. Despite not knowing you, I can vouch for that. But if these unofficial rules and restrictions harbour within people for say, the next six generations from now and if someone then decides to say something about retards or sluts – which will have definitely become a taboo by then, it wouldn’t be a surprise to see someone following your ideology pull out a gun and kill twelve others.

In 2013, the Independent wrote, “Just because Muslims refuse to portray the Prophet, there’s no reason why non-Muslims should feel compelled by the same restrictions and fear retribution if they go ahead with picturing Islam’s founder.” On similar lines, just because you refuse to use some words because you consider them insensitive, there is no reason why you should incite fear in people and push them into a rather obvious choice – following your lead or face flak. Do not smother the freedom of speech – for as much as your beautiful, noble thoughts about freedom of speech are true, as much as it is true that everyone’s expression of opinions – most importantly that of women, falls under freedom of speech, insensitive words and jokes and degenerate language is also a part of it. Broaden that view. Moreover, be a sport.

As for those who are actually looking for methods to get physically soft butts, I am sorry. I have studied engineering, so I don’t know anything about it. Try implants, maybe.

How to Procrastinate Without Taking any Blame: A Step to Step Guide

I love to procrastinate. But that’s like saying I love boobs – everybody does. And so I figured out and presumed that you might love to procrastinate too and so I also presumed that you’d like to know how to procrastinate things without taking any blame because blame is like the penis of a shemale. Who wants to take it? Not me.

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This is how a shemale’s crotch looks. Gross.

So here is how I experimented and found out the ultimate formula of procrastinating.

Step 1: Fall in love with a girl who has never been to Goa.

Step 2: Continue loving her.

Step 3: Continue. Patience is the key to success.

Step 4: By now, it’s your birthday. If it isn’t, you’re going to have to use some more patience.

Step 5: At least by now it’s your birthday. Hallelujah. Ask your girlfriend to plan a trip at some faraway place for your birthday.

Step 6: She will plan a trip to Goa because she hasn’t been there, but if she has other places on her list, drop subtle hints like “I want to go to Goa”, or “Let’s go Goa.” Or “Goa, Goa, Goa.”

Step 7: Go on the trip and eat good food and have fun.

Step 8: Go to Morjim beach and play in the sea for three hours. A lot of fine sand will go inside your ears with the water.

Step 9: Go back to your hotel and try to poke ear buds in your ear until it begins to hurt.

Step 10: Call off the trip, go home and see a doctor.

Step 11: Put the prescribed ear drops in your ears and swallow the prescribed meds and cover your ear with cotton plugs.

Step 12: If anyone asks you to do something, don’t fucking do it.

Step 13:  If they ask you why you didn’t do the work tell them the story of your ears. If they say “Ohh I didn’t know that”, reply with “It’s okay. Happens.”

Step 14: Smirk and continue watching porn on your laptop.

That’s about it folks.

Licking Your Own Balls

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This is how dogs lick their own balls, but I’ll get to that later.

A few days ago I got a facebook-invitation from a girl to like her page which was, according to her, about spreading smiles. When I opened the page, I found nothing interesting on it and after browsing it a little I learnt that all it consisted of was random posts that went like this:

  1. “Share this if you’re not expecting anything on this Valentine’s Day.”
  2. “Use your real eyes to realize the real lies.”
  3. A selfie in which all the three girls looked desperate to get attention.

I don’t know if these things should have made me smile because they fucking didn’t. Next time someone asks me to open this page, I’d rather spend my time trying to lick my elbow in spite of knowing the fact that I can’t. So since it was going to be my last time on this page, like its the last time of the unemployed men on Earth in the movie Armaggedon before they leave for masonary work in outer space, I browsed the page more and found some amusing things. The page described the girl as a public figure. It was pretty shocking because one, she is just an employee at one of the websites I freelance for and two, Mia Khalifa would never ask you to watch her own porn, you’d do that voluntarily. Other words, public figures are not public figures because they ask people to like their pages where they mention themselves as public figures. They are public figures already and people like their pages because they are public figures. Further the ‘About’ section of the page wasn’t about the page and instead consisted of a few adjectives put together in a miscealleneous and implausible fashion.  My mother has taught me to pity everything that I can pity and so I pitied this girl because it was saddening to see how she thought of herself.

Although I appreciate her venture of spreading smiles –  if that really is her motive, I don’t see how is her brief biography that looks more like a combination of a CV and a page from the diary of a horrendous-looking girl with terrible grammar  who hasn’t got a date on Valentine’s Day and has therefore chosen to write worldly wisdom about beauty in her diary – an assertion based on the fact that she has written “Life is beautiful, so we all are”, in the information section of the page where instead of writing “so we all are” she should have just written “so are we.”, going to help her spread smiles. Then I thought a little about it and realized something.

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Rare Moment: This is a photo of Rolly when he wasn’t licking his balls.

When I was 10, we had a dog named Rolly who used to lick clean his own balls and then wag its tail to show how happy he was. We never had a problem with a self-obsessed dog but it became kind of tough to keep up with his expectations when he began expecting us to be happy too post all his ball-licking sessions. After a tough relationship with us and some 70-odd dog years, he died while eating the carcass of some animal that had tried to trespass our property. I am sure if he hadn’t died eating, he’d have died while licking his own balls. But when he died, we put all those licking-memories of him behind us and buried him with all the due respect. That’s the end of the story.

My point is, I don’t have a problem with anyone who loves to bend backwards and kiss their own ass or bend forwards and try to lick their own scrotum for that matter, but if you’re going to look at me as a potential partner who would help and encourage you to put your mouth to your own genitals, I’m sorry. I won’t do that. I would instead write an article about it on my blog and find some satisfaction in the fact that the internet booed and had a good laugh at you because you stink.

I would have given you the link to her facebook page but she is my boss and I get paid, so No.

Relationship Lessons 101: Now Featuring Polar Bears

Yesterday I had a terrible fight with Isha which was the verbal equivalent of a Body Waxing Competition between two polar bears. Other words, it was painful. And yet, we kept fighting for a long time over many different things. The funniest part was how it started off.

Isha thinks it is okay to talk to any random guy hitting on her long as she knows how to handle him. She also says I should be laughing about it, with her. Perhaps that is right. Perhaps that is right without the perhaps. But look, when one polar bear goes in the fishing territory of another polar bear and that polar bear’s wife says “It’s okay, he is here just for sightseeing”, but instead of sightseeing if the first polar bear fishes in that territory and then goes home and finds a third polar bear in his fishing territory and if his wife then says, “Its okay he is here just for sightseeing”, what this polar bear is going to think is, “Woman, you don’t know where this is going to go.”

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This is how polar bears go fishing. Thought you should know.

My point is, to someone like me who has had a certain shady past that included activities like hitting on other people’s girlfriends and coveting them because “why not?” this seemed a bit scary in the beginning. Of course I had my share of karma and my heart was broken as many times as I broke hymens, so rounding off everything, I have finally managed to be the polar bear who fishes in his own territory. And when you’re minding your own territory after being a notorious intruder, new intruders do freak you out. And so, I freaked out when she told me about a random guy hitting on her. “Since when are you talking to him?” was my immediate response to this question when it should instead have been “Do you know how much food does a polar bear consume in one day?” or just about anything but “Since when are you talking to him?”

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For the record, the polar bear can eat 4.4 pounds of seal in one day.

But I asked what I asked and it struck the wrong cord and pissed her off and went to “I never thought you were this kind of guy” and an immediate comparison to her ex-boyfriends. That in turn pissed me off and the petty fight quickly went from “I never knew you were like this yadda yadda” to “You’re free to leave if you don’t find me suitable for yourself yadda yadda”. But of course after scratching the fuck outta each other and hurting each other enough, we withdrew from the duel and I thought about it because I think about pretty much everything.

I started off with who was right in the whole thing. Perhaps she was. Perhaps I was too. In our shoes, both of us were justifiable to varying degrees of justification. What I pointed out was a generalized call of caution but she took it as my insecurity with her and questioned my trust in the relationship which led a small issue to create fucktard tensions between us. Clearly, we had misinterpreted each other. We had formulated our conclusions on entirely different bases and hadn’t given a fuck about what the other person actually meant. And so another important thing, perhaps the most important, occurred to me. In a relationship it doesn’t count who is right and who is wrong because at the same time both of you can be both right and wrong based on different things. And so, rather than concentrating on the right and wrong part, you should perhaps just concentrate on how to mend the mistakes and not do them again. And then there is this thing about pointing things out like I did. You shouldn’t. It leads you nowhere but to a game of waxing between two bears.

So yeah, I learned my lessons and apologized to Isha later and she didn’t apologize to me and I learnt the last lesson of the day – that’s how you roll in the hood when you decide to roll with a woman. With her fucking rules.

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This is a happy polar bear couple after the he-polar bear said sorry to the she-polar bear.

What Does It Take To Keep Your Penis in Your Pants?

An underwear maybe? But nope, that’s not what we’re talking about here. I mean technically yes, an underwear is all it takes because an underwear to your penis is what a nest is to a bird – home.  But no, we don’t do technical things on this blog, we do subtle. Now technically subtle isn’t quite the opposite of technical but what the fuck, you got my point, so let’s get to the next.

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This has got nothing to do with the post. I found it when I googled for “Woman holding her crotch.” This woman has no boobs though.

First off, this article is for men and therefore, if you technically don’t feel two balls and dick dangling between your legs when you walk, this isn’t for you. And yet, if you want to read on, it won’t really hurt. Perhaps you could alter some stuff from this post and rewrite it as “What Does It Take To Keep a Penis Outside Your Pants?” on your blog and be famous like that blonde with moderately big boobs from Sex and The City who whored around and justified her whoring on her blog. So man or woman, you have something in this post for you.

Now, to begin with, I’m not sure how many men would really want to keep their penis in their pants because if it isn’t in your pants, it technically means you’re either pissing or scoring chicks. But we don’t do technical on this blog which is why it, by default, almost always means you’re scoring chicks. So is scoring chicks bad? Nope. It is, in fact, the single-most satisfying thing a single homo sapiens with the XY chromosome (and the XX chromosome too if you consider a little alteration in tastes and a strapon) can do.  So why am I telling you this? Well, see I have a friend named Vardhan Patkar (you can find his photo here.) who once upon a time, liked scoring chicks and since I knew that he was doing the single-most satisfying thing an adult male human being can do, I was happy for him. However after some time and a lot of chicks, he decided that he was done with the whole hogging on whores thing and that he needed to settle down. And so he found a girl worth settling down and indeed settled down with her. Things were going merry and fine in the Settleland until one day, he woke up with a boner that was so tall that it reached his brain and messed with it because of which, he suddenly wanted other chicks outside the relationship. And so, he banged and banged and then banged a little more until one day he realized that now, he only wanted to bang. Of course this resulted in his relationship going to the gallows and he wanted it back but Karma said “Not happening bruh.” And I was a very close witness to all of this (one time I was even on the same bed where he was scoring a chick but I’ll tell you about that another time) and it has therefore brought me this far, and coaxed me to write an article titled “What Should You Do To Keep Your Penis in Your Pants?”

Look when you’re in a relationship, it sometimes gets tough to stay off the temptation of getting your hands on some hot chick, because you know that you don’t have to get involved here and after three minutes (or whatever amount of time you require to ejaculate) you can even forget her name and she won’t be mad. But that is the real test. There are hundreds, perhaps even thousands of hot women all around you and the world has gotten so closely knit that it isn’t really tough for you to get in the pants of one of those women. To bang, it’s easy. You only have to be smooth to get her in your bedroom. You can even hide it from your girlfriend and everyone gets to stay happy. Perhaps you can even do it more often then. But is it worth it? The feeling that your girlfriend loves you with all her heart but you’re still cheating on her takes its toll someday. Even if she never finds out, the guilt keeps gnawing at you and someday you feel pretty helpless and then you end up believing that perhaps love is just not your thing. Don’t let that happen. Definitely not if you’re in a relationship that is fulfilling and makes you feel complete. You always have a goddamn choice.

Consider this: You’re in a hotel room and a girl wearing nothing but a loose unbuttoned shirt is lying in the bed, giggling and inviting you to do her and yet, regardless of the many million voices inside your head that are encouraging you to do her, you listen to that one weak but sane voice that says “Get the fuck out of here.” And then, at that moment, if you really walk out, there is nothing that can match that victorious feeling. That feeling of having overcome a temptation and having chosen the right thing, there is nothing that can make you believe in yourself and your relationship better than that. And this is worth all the eighty nine lakh sixty six thousand five hundred and forty three hot chicks in the world, including Kate Upton (kidding there, if its Kate Upton, it’s always an exception).

And this is only “Why Should You Keep Your Penis in Your Pants?” and since the why is pretty substantial, I believe you might not hesitate to do whatever it takes for it. So yes, that’s about it. And as for the title, what does it take to keep your penis in your pants? Some faith, a little courage and a cartload of fapping. All the best bruh.

Also, if you’re a single guy, forget it.

Why Do People Die?

Last Friday, my grandmother died. My sweet grandmother who had been there by my side right since I was a kid, for everything from singing me lullabies in my childhood to protecting me from my father’s wrath when I had failed my graduation exams. She was here until last Friday, telling me stories of her childhood and laughing like she always did. But today, she isn’t there. I can’t take it. This loss is too much for me. She was a precious part of my life. Something that I treasured a lot. Why do people have to die? Why can’t they just stay?
That is how I’d have begun the article if I was a 27-year-old Catholic and still-single girl wearing a purple sweater that had large purple buttons and went by the name Heather. But unfortunately, I’m not. So if you’re the guy with the Zayn Malik-haircut, which honestly has become too mainstream and therefore sucks, and if you’re reading this and planning to console Heather so that you can later get her to take off the purple sweater and see her sweaty boobs and put your hands all over them and then grab her ass and push her against the wall and bang her like a good ol’ daddy while she wails in pleasure, I’m sorry. You’re on the wrong page. Also, if that description excited you, you’re going to have to fap to an imaginary Heather. Okay but whatever, since I’m not Heather, I don’t have to begin a post like this in a manner Heather would.
I would rather begin it like this: Why do people die? What a fucking morbid thought. People die because they have to. No one is going to live forever and although it can be understood that you have certain strings attached to certain people which would hurt you on being broken in the same exact manner that it would hurt you while waxing, there is nothing we can do about it. About death I mean. Why am I telling this today? Because I was wondering about dying and dead people a while ago. My dad’s friend’s dad died a few days ago and my dad was unaware that this had happened until today which then led me to wonder how many people that I know of might have died in the past few days or maybe dying today or might die in the coming few days. I’ll never know all of them unless its another atom bomb attack. That way its safe to believe that the whole city is wiped out. But anyway, since that won’t happen most likely, lets get back to what I was saying. Considering the fact that I have over 2000 facebook friends, I’m sure that somewhere, someone related to these 2000-odd blokes in some or the other manner must be dying. Once I was in a long-distance relationship with a a Swedish chick and her father had died but I never knew because for three days she kept sobbing that “a great man” had passed away. She never mentioned that it was her father. So I thought it really must be some great man like a Swedish national leader or something, you know the Gandhi sort of guy, and so, I didn’t give a damn. Then a few weeks later when I asked her what did her father get her as her graduation present, I was accused of being an insolent bastard and we broke up. Long story short, if someone in such a close vicinity can die and you can be unaware about it for weeks, how many must be going to the grave in a radius of 2000 facebook friends? Many. Heck I even have friends on facebook who really aren’t there to like my photos anymore (euphemism for “dead”).
And so, there might be many more people like that. People with whom I don’t have any real connection, and might never have. But I can understand the kind of loss that they might suffer on the death of a loved one. Consider this a general consolation maybe. Because I feel like talking about it today. And instead of going all gooey and Nicholas Sparks-y about it, I’d say that you can do nothing about your loved ones dying. The best you can do in attempts to bring back the dead is cry on their graves or say and write things like Heather would and the most it can do to you is get you schizophrenic. So here’s the catch, I don’t know who you are and if you’re dealing with someone’s death or not but if you are and when you will in future, just remember that people die everywhere. All around you. The moment your loved one dies is the moment many thousands of others die somewhere else. That can’t stop the world from going. And like the death of those many thousands won’t stop you from going, let this one death make no much difference either. No matter how strong and beautiful a bond is, it has to end someday so that it can be cherished as something beautiful. So stay strong and accept that it is over, the ship has sailed.
And for the record, my grandmother died many years ago falling in a lake. We suspect it was a suicide because my uncle drank a lot and wasted all his life which was too hard for my grandmother to take. Wait, that’s too much information. So that’s it, curtains.