Words,words, words

My dear Billy, Has it ever occurred to you to sit at your desk with a blank, white page couched in front of you waiting to be filled, and you have absolutely no idea what to fill it with, while your deadline is waiting, goading and pressurizing you to finish the job at once? Well, I am in exactly such a soup right now. An A4 sheet of paper is is lying bare on the table staring straight in my eyes and enticing me to tickle it, caress it, and cover it with sweet words even if they make a lot of noise but signify nothing. The A4 thing is in ecstasy and expectation, an undefiled sheet of virgin paper aching to be gratified. My pen is fidgeting restlessly between my hardened fingers, eager to roll over, scratch, kiss, gratify, arouse the supine paper and fulfil its desire. What is standing, Himalaya-like, between paper and pen are the words that are going to be the agent of fulfillment and satisfaction. For, however much the pen is going to strive to satisfy the paper, consummation will be miles away unless the words materialize and come to fill and fulfil. And this is precisely what is missing at the moment, my dear Billy. Words. Words that mean nothing, something, anything, that tell you one thing and mean another. Words that people give in plenty but seldom keep. Words that flatter and make you flutter. That hurt and disturb. Big words. Words like love, hate, sincerity, peace. Harsh words. Biting words. Politicians’ words. “Words” on computer. Kind words. Reassuring, soothing, encouraging words. Words that hide. Words that reveal. Words. Words. Words. In the beginning there was the word, remember? I bet in the end there’ll be no word left. The world will have eaten all its words, as people keep going back on their words. Mark my word, my dear Billy, Parole donnée is no longer parole sacrée. Or people no longer keep their words, if you don’t understand the other words. In the good old days of Julius Caesar, the practice before a battle was to exchange “words before blows,” although the protagonists confessed that they did not “Love words better.” But they believed that “Good words are better than bad strokes,” even if some, like Brutus, were experts at giving “good words” in their “bad strokes” because while stabbing Julius Caesar cold-bloodedly he had said, “Long live, hail Caesar!” Upon my word, this exercise is getting more and more tedious. I have used so many words and told you nothing so far. Or almost. By the way, did you read about the incredibly astronomical number of suicides and kamikazes that were questioning the present state of the world? We seem to be living in a world, my dear Billy, where suicide seems to be the “in” thing to do, so such so that they have even set a day aside for the matter, a sort of world suicide day. It was recently revealed that a suicide was being committed somewhere in the world every few minutes. In fact, suicide has proved to be a greater killer than even war. And mind you, this does not include those brave young men and women who commit suicide in little doses, by remote control, through alcohol, cigarettes, and drugs. On the other hand, there are more people who prefer to kill themselves than kill others. Does that mean that they are easier targets, within closer reach? This rate of suicide reveals that people have started to have less and less faith in themselves and that they don’t have the courage or the will to get up and live or to face the old, filthy world. Is the end of the world at hand then? So what’s the use of all these inventions, discoveries, researches? What will humanity do with all the progress and development when there’ll be no human living ? While suicide seems to be a handy solution, an easy way out in extreme cases, there is another form of masochism which has become a fad among schoolchildren and other youngsters these days. This is a sort of auto-mutilation, whereby the youngster lacerates himself with a knife or a razor blade of any other cutter. Some go to the extent of sucking the blood that oozes from the gashes. They are in a sort of trance while committing the act, and this action may not be alien to a suicide tendency. Our society is sick. Antichrist is already here. Who is going to save the world, my dear Billy? In the meantime I have already filled the empty space on my A4 paper. Have a nice day, my dear Billy!