Outcast

I am a wet blanket, I know.I dampen festive spirits--the veritable grinch.That doesn't make me oh-so-happy happy either.Grim pleasure(s).Self-righteousness.Or not. No parties for me.For nobody will take me.Or I won't go.I don't want anything to do with you and you. And You.I have nothing to do with South City Mall. Except for Ma of course, who insisted on going.I love spoiling the Puja for everyone.Bloody Hindoos.BigBloodyHindoo festival.Bloody BJP.I think there are people who think like me.I know them.They are not my friends, though.And they are not so bitter-cynical-pessimistic-anxious-angry-depressed.I'm sick of pretending homophobia in order to be polite to people cracking homophobic jokes.Next time you do it, I shall go right ahead and be the dampest blanket ever and tell you just what I think about your sorry homophobic ass.I'm sick of this place, this mess.I'm sick of having to see everything, everyone in shades of gray.Give me back my peace in black and white.