Annoyance of submission, halting the progression!

What are we? What is our purpose? We don’t have answers for that! But what we are trying to do is to progress in life. And what is progression if you don’t move forward? Is time linear or circle? We don’t know for sure. But what is circular is your thought of mind. What you face, you return to that, and you become that again. Your sadness, it makes you come back to it, rot in it. Because I guess that is what it is! You get victimised, and you become the perpetrator either for someone else or for yourself. First, there is a catalyst, someone or something saddens you, making you rot in your dark hole. But for the next time, when you think that you are out. You somehow will start finding your way back to that stink, by hurting yourself for finding ways to get hurt once again. I want to call it emotional masochism, and you can consider the following article as my case study, maybe.

Foreword: Sometimes, I can’t help myself becoming too objective by treating everyone around me as subjects for my little experimentations and observations. Wish, I could stop that, but that helps me be objective when I’m faced with unexpected twists of life. So you can see that I’m using the word “I” a lot, to make it personal. Because this write-up is ‘me’ and telling ‘you’ directly about the things I’ve observed.

Case of Stockholm Syndrome:

We see ourselves submitting to a lot of things; cigarettes, coffee, tea, pleasure, control and sadness. Those last two might look odd one out, but no! Looking at multiple cases and subjects, I have come to the conclusion that there are people who submit themselves and love to be in someone else’s control. They can’t be judged for not sounding logical, because they have grown fond of that oppression; they need that. They need a dictator to control, abuse and treat them as property. 

I have seen many women get attracted to the ‘macho’, oppressive guys. Is it dad complex? Are they looking for someone to replace their overprotective dads? It sure is a probability! But regardless of what complex it is, few really return back to the very person who has hit them pretty bad. They also seem to get defensive when anyone tries to protect the girl from beatings. It’s almost like they are craving for that abuse. Is it not masochism? I never really thought we had so many masochists around us, but here we go, almost every 3 out of 5 women I have run into since my observation had begun were such masochists who crave to be submissive.

I was judgemental, and those words they speak always shock me. It’s not like they tell me directly, but their behaviour, it can be deduced to masochism. It is nothing but Stockholm syndrome because they seem to get a liking towards the abuser, and sometimes surprisingly miss the chokehold on their neck and spanking on the butt. 

Of course, the majority of the subjects whom I have seen suffering from this syndrome, are women, there are men too. Some men want to be controlled by very leading and manipulative women. They get attracted to the woman who validates their every move. These men cannot and will never dare to do anything without their pseudo-MAMA’s approval. No matter if you try to help them drag out, they find their way back to the claws of such dictators. 

Case of emotional masochism:

Now, this is a peculiar case, and I’m one of the subjects too. I can say the number of emotional masochists is a lot higher, and every 2 out of 5 humans are such. They don’t have anything, they are suffering from ‘normal-life’ syndrome. I was affected too, it is boring, and the boredom kills. We, the subjects, search for the meaning of life in different places, we find nothing, as there is nothing. But, we crave for depth, a character arc in our stories. We want our lives to not be flat and something that has a meaning, we are almost obsessed with this search. So much that we find the most comfortable way out.

Depression! No, we don’t have clinical depression, not at the beginning of course. But that is the climax of the path we head to. Somewhere in our life, we, the subjects understood that sadness can be easily achieved. In fact, it is the sadness that made us awake and coming out of it, we began this hunt for meaning. We had a purpose, some definition for ourselves when we were sad and loathing. We had reasons for being like this. We had everything to blame, and when we are not worried, there is nothing but ourselves to blame for things we do. 

A friend of mine hinted to me about this ‘addiction to get depressed’. I instantly got connected to it, I know that I’m heading that way. I already had clues about myself liking the sadness. When I’m sad, I feel I had some depth. It was when I’m messy and scratching the un-groomed beard that I felt like an enlightened being. It made me feel superior to others; like no one knows what I’m going through. It was false, everyone is going through their own shit and feels the same way. I only knew that I liked to get sad until I came out of the thought.

When I was sunk in it deeply, I had the tendency to surround myself with all the tragic news, sad memories, betrayals and overthinking. It took me months to recover from this sort of emotional masochism that I had become. I still find the remnant residual waste of sad-craving ideas in my mind. It cries “the moment is here for you to get sad, go cry” once in a while. I just try to divert myself or make jokes about it because it will run away. You can be a self-loathing sadness craving person almost at every corner, few have periods of such phases once in a while, and few are always craving for sadness. 

I cannot be a judge and say that this is ‘wrong’. If it gives them a purpose to live, maybe we should just let them be. But it is really annoying to be a consoling person for the guy who is emotionally masochistic. And also the guy who always tries to save people from abusive relationships. I have been both, and some people were annoyed consoling me when I was an emotional-masochist. You don’t need to stress yourself, give thoughts about them. Neither should you empathise and try to change them because they won’t. You can hunt them, but it is up to them to change. I changed because I want some other things in life. If you are one of those masochists and you feel like doing some other stuff, do change for the sake of yourselves. 

The minds of those have been burdened and tired, those who have tried to protect these masochists. They must have spent sleepless nights thinking they have to save these people. This is yet another problem, the saviour complex. This is not masochism but an equally irritating super-hero syndrome. But at least, these super-saviours don’t halt progression, they boost it but at the cost of their peace of minds. One thing I want to say to both saviours and masochists is that the progress of life is what we want. Being sad, being in an abusive relationship it makes you stay in the same place for too long. Too long that you almost waste your entire life before you even realise that you can do a lot more things with your life than getting choked or walking in a dark abyss. It takes you nowhere, that path is circular, a void where the end and the beginning are just a hole. All you need to know is that there is a hole, and you can just jump back to the world. Do not take the easy way out, you can do a lot of things with your life. 

Let’s talk about more submissive ideologies and phases in our next article. If you are familiar with more such humiliation-craving masochistic ideas to live, you can comment or mail us at

An echo of a dying squeal

“I was born in a shed, in a green grassy town. A man cleaned me the blood on me, and his wife cared for my mother. The man looked under my legs and smiled, looking at me. “Lakshmi” he called me. The couple played with me and always were happy to see me. My mother, I loved her a lot, don’t know who Papa is, never got to see him. Mom tells that even she did not see him. I am a teen now, and Ma is telling me a lot of new things that I should know about my body. Ma doesn’t even know how I was conceived. She tells me that I’m a goddess because I was born to a virgin! But I don’t believe that! I’m not a fool. I think she was raped, and that’s how I was born. I guess she didn’t even see the face of my father. However, even the care-taking couple treat me like goddess give me all the things I need. One day, my mother was sleeping, and the care-taking man entered our home sneakily. He looked at me and asked me to come out with him. I went out, and he made me get into his vehicle. I couldn’t understand what he was doing with me at that time. He was smiling, he put his arms on my neck, back and down there, and started oddly tickling me. I didn’t understand what to do, so I closed my eyes. This is what my mom said to me; she said we would be separated one day, and during the moment, I better close my eyes and imagine all the best moments I have had with her. I kept on imagining the beautiful moments I had with my mother, and I can feel a new pair of hands touching my nipples. But I still didn’t open my eyes. I know the vehicle was moving and I’m being taken someplace elsewhere they are going to use me more than just touching my tender nipples.

They got me down, and I was tied. Did I mention that? Yes, I was tied and being dragged somewhere new, and I still did not dare to open my damn eyes!”.

She started crying, and she could not continue anymore. She was shaking to speak the horrors out, and Ms.Saraswati patted her back. “You know it feels hard to speak it out, but when you do, it feels good. It is good to let go of the ghosts that haunt us. These ghosts are our traumatic memories. You can take a break, but you need to speak, and it happens today, Lakshmi! You are the oldest of us” Saraswati encouraged Lakshmi to speak. “Okay” Lakshmi sobbed and gathered her courage.

“So, no matter how prepared I was for this day, how much my mother informed me would happen to me, it still did not make me strong enough to face it. The people who touch me started increasing day by day. Sometimes doctors come to test me. I was finally of age, and one day, after all the tests and weirds touchings, I was forced to wake up in the middle of the night. I was taken to a secluded room. Before I know what was happening, I was restrained to a few metal rods and the chains were so tight. I shouted and pleaded, but no one was listening to me, I don’t know what is going to happen. They left me there tied, for a while. I kept on struggling and crying, and then I heard the door open again. I couldn’t turn back as I was tied, but I know something terrible happening. I can sense it. *sobs* Ah! Er… I could feel someone getting on top of me from behind. Then! Then I felt a piercing pain down there, something was thrusting inside, and the pain was so unbearable that I don’t even have the energy to scream that big, I just! I blacked out! When I woke up, I could not feel my legs, the pain it was no more, there was no feeling at all, it felt very… numb!” Lakshmi stared on to the floor deeply as Saraswati, and other travellers looked at her with teary eyes.

Lakshmi continued after gulping her tears in. “So, after that ghastly incident, I was left untouched for a few days. But I was checked up once in a while. My breasts have started to swell, and I started vomiting. After a couple of months, I gave birth to Naren, that’s what they called him. I didn’t know what to call him. He was sweet, and he never left my side. Even when I was carrying him, I was still groped but never raped. He was out, and the touchings increased. Every morning they woke me up with a touch and made me sleep after a touch. I felt like I don’t own my body, it’s theirs, not mine. My dear son is a real momma’s boy. He cried when I went out of sight, and he never left my side. His smiles and touch were the only things that looked like a light in that never-ending darkness. But after he got to his teens, they thought his body was useless for them. They can’t cash him, so they took him away from me. I didn’t cry. If I cried I would be relieved of him, I want that pain inside me, and I don’t want to forget him by crying. Days passed, and one day they took me back to the rape room and the incident repeated, I did not conceive this time. So, there was no gap, I was raped every day. One day I conceived again, and this time, I did not feel any attachment to this newborn. It was a girl, and I know she would face the same fate as me. I know she would be groped and raped repeatedly. I told her that straight. I did not lie like my mother did. I prepared her for the worst. I gave birth to many, and I got raped my many more. Years passed, and I didn’t keep track of the babies I gave birth to, but Naren! I still keep remembering him. He has a scar on his foot, it was shaped like a star. What might have happened to my boy? Did they kill him? Or did they left him to grow on his own? Is he muscular and handsome now? Will he become a rapist too? I had so many questions about my beautiful little boy. My nipples became dry, and my glands were wrinkled. I’m old now! Will that stop me from looking attractive? Will that stop me from getting raped? I didn’t know. But that da..” Lakshmi was staring blankly into the walls of the truck. “Speak out grandma” Lilly asked her.

“It was the day I can never forget. I was taken to the rape room like every once in a while, and they restrained my scarred hands. I could hear him enter, he sounded young and excited. He held my waist and tried to climb over me. I could tell that it is his first time. He struggled and weirdly stood over me. All these years, I never saw even reflection of them, but the way he stood, I can see his right leg. Before my eyes were totally open and I was shocked to see the star-shaped scar on his foot he was already inside me. My jaw dropped, and I cried to stop after all these years first time I cried so loud, but he didn’t stop. He rammed me. He completed what he was doing, he waited and he pulled it out. It was him… My beautiful boy Naren, he was…”

Lakshmi burst out in tears as all the others were looking at her with eyes open as they have seen some ghost. “I… I was raped almost entire my life but that day, I was killed. I was mentally dead. I feel nothing anymore, and I have wanted to die ever since. I feared that I would conceive his child. But luckilly my days are gone. My body couldn’t do that anymore. So they decided that I have no use for them and I’m put in this container with you guys. Travelling to the end of the tunnel, towards freedom” Lakshmi cried. Saraswati couldn’t stop her tears. “I was made to conceive too, but with machinery and what happened to you in un-imagineable, And Naren..” she burst out too. 

“You all are used and wasted, but I’m young why am I being freed?” Lilly asked. “You are a lucky one, Lilly. They saw that you can’t be used to torture, so they found a different way for you—a quick way to freedom. Trust me, it is better this way” she hugged Lilly.

The containers opened and Rajappa stood there with a neem stick in his mouth and a lungi. “Why are these cows moo-ing a lot, Ravi?” he asked his partner. “Who knows, they might be having a conversation ” Ravi laughed. “17 cows, that’s a huge batch” Rajappa smiled. “They all look thick! Lots of meat” Ravi exclaimed and dropped them one by one. While walking in, she remembered an image of herself in a third person’s point of view. “You are at peace now” she imagined telling her younger self these words.

Picture By – Prahlad Kosuri

And Ravi lead them inside the slaughterhouse where they were cut into pieces as they squealed with pain.

The echo of their dying squeal has reached my ears and woke me up. I took the responsibility to make you hear their screams.

Scared Heart That Never Left The Closet.

Goutham is a simple kid with big curious eyes and a heartful smile. He is a very pampered child and an angel to the family. He is a very active kid who loves playing with his cat. It is the summer vacation, and Goutham couldn’t go out as it was scorching. Goutham is petting the cat, and his mom walks to him, kisses him, and says, ” You are turning 7 tomorrow! It just feels like you were born yesterday. Thanks for choosing me as your mother and your dad your father. We love you so much. Your dad is on the way, he is getting you some cool cloths.” After hearing this, Goutham is very excited and is staring at the entrance door for his father’s arrival. In the evening around 5, his father comes with a bag. Gotham’s eyes glow at the site of his father. His father enters the home, sees Goutham with his cute surprised eyes, kisses him, and goes in. Goutham runs behind is the father. His father keeps the bag on a table and starts unpacking things.

 Goutham imagines that some magician is unraveling stuff from the magic basket. There were chocolates, biscuits, and many more party items. Goutham’s face glows like a moon in the sky, but his eyes are searching for his fancy dress. Finally, the dress comes out, and it is a suit. Goutham’s eyes were like glowing stars. The dress was beyond his imagination, and it was beyond perfect for him. He hugs his dad, kisses him, and they all go to have dinner. After dinner, the house members decorate the house with color papers, flowers, etc. There is a big “Happy Birthday” banner with Goutham’s precious smile. It is absolutely stunning, and Goutham loved it. It is late at night, and Goutham was not able to sleep as he is very excited for the next day. Gotham’s father comes to him, and here is how their conversation goes:

Dad: Dear! Why are you not sleeping? And did you like the decorations and your dress?

Goutham: I’m excited about tomorrow, and I liked them very much.

Dad: As you are not sleepy, let me show you something. 

Dad finds a paper, comes to Gotham, and starts folding it.

Goutham: Dad, it looks so cool! What are you making?

Dad:  I’m making a paper boat. A fantastic paper boat you can play with when monsoons start.

Goutham: Dad, it looks incredible, please teach me how to do it.

Dad takes Goutham on his lap and teaches him, and as usual, his eyes are sparkling brighter than Sirius A (The most shining star in the night sky). They complete the paper boat, and Goutham is very happy with the outcome. Goutham carefully places them in his closet and gives a good night kiss to his dad. Before sleeping, Goutham says, “Dad one day I’m going to a buy a real boat which is as good as our paper boat, and we all can go one a fun trip around the world. I will sit between you and mom” Dad gets emotional, hugs his son, and waves him goodnight. 

Finally, the big day has arrived. Everything is ready for the evening party. As it was the summer holidays, many guests attended the party, and one of them is Goutham’s uncle Jagan, who is a manager in the Biggest M.N.C. All the guests arrived at the party, and there are laughs, happiness, dances, singing, and many more lovely moments. Goutham is enjoying each and every sight of the party. Finally, the moment has come to cut the cake, Goutham’s eyes sparkle as he is blowing the candles. He gave the first piece to his mother, then father, and it went on till Goutham’s face was like a chubby baby elephant. The sight is very adorable. The guests have dinner, and they all went home. It is one of the happiest days in Goutham’s life. Little did Goutham knew that it might be his last.

The next day evening, Goutham has to go to his Uncle Jagan’s house, as his parents are going on a business trip for a couple of days. Goutham is happy as he loves his aunt so much. Goutham is dropped at Jagan’s house, kissed his parents, and waves goodbye. Goutham enters the house, and his aunt hugs him, feeds him dinner, and as it is late, they go to bed early. The next day Jagan takes leave as he has a headache, Goutham’s aunt gives instructions to Jagan on how to take care of Goutham and leaves for work. Goutham sits with his uncle and is playing with his toys. Goutham’s uncle says, “its time to take a bath Goutham, lets go.” Jagan prepares the bathtub with lukewarm water and undresses Goutham and keeps him in the tub.

Now Jagan undresses and enters the tub and starts touching Goutham repeatedly. Goutham is not aware of what is happening with him, he looks around with the eyes of help but couldn’t find a ray of hope. Then Jagan starts kissing Goutham vigorously, it is so extreme that Goutham is breathless. Gotham’s lips start to bleed, and Goutham starts crying in pain, but there are no ears to listen to that. After some time, Jagan stands up and starts exploiting the upper part of Goutham’s body sexually like a monster. Goutham has no clue on what is happening with him. Then Jagan exploits Goutham’s lower half of the body, and Goutham starts bleeding. Even at that sight, Jagan’s monster instinct didn’t stop. He starts hitting the child and has a maniac smile on the face. Jagan warned Goutham that if he going to tell his parents about this, Jagan is going to kill them.

Goutham has no clue that he was sexually abused. The injuries were faked by Jagan saying Goutham hurt himself while playing. After a couple of days, Goutham’s parents come back to pick him up. He is not the same active kid anymore, he is alone most of the time, not the same who used to hug his father or sleep in his mother’s lap. He is suffering from huge Trauma. Summer holidays are complete, and schools reopened. In school, Goutham is standing up involuntarily due to pain. His teachers are always questioning him on the same. He became weaker in studies and sports. The abuse didn’t stop either, it became so worse that Jagan used to bring his friends to abuse Goutham. Goutham tried to convey this to his mom by saying that he is bleeding, Goutham’s mom thought it is due to the heavy consumption of mangoes and stopped him from eating them.

The monsoon has passed, and the paper boat never left the closet, in the same way, that Trauma never left Goutham. Goutham was assaulted for 10 years. Every day he was assaulted, his cat used to come to him and lick all his tears and cuddle with him. The only support the Goutham got is his cat. One day, when Jagan came to assault Goutham, Goutham gathered all the courage he could with the support from his cat. Goutham kicked him and shouted, “NO!” From that day, he was not assaulted.

Even today, Goutham is suffering from Trauma. He gets scared when a person suddenly comes from his back. He cannot talk freely to people, especially strangers, and has very low self-esteem.

According to W.H.O. ( World Health Organisation) Nearly 3 in 4 children – or 300 million children – aged 2–4 years regularly suffer physical punishment and/or psychological violence at the hands of parents and caregivers. One in 5 women and 1 in 13 men report having been sexually abused as a child aged 0-17 years. 120 million girls and young women under 20 years of age have suffered some form of forced sexual contact. I mean, what is wrong with people? It is depressing and very worrisome. 

In the end, If you are a parent and if your kid is giving any sort of signals on a particular person, please assure them that you are with them, you will take serious action against the person and take action as well. If you faced sexual abuse as a child or any kind of abuse, my friend, we are all with you. It is not your fault. We are here for you with our open arms to console you and share your pain.

Let us all unite to preserve the innocence of a child and strive hard and make sure a child carries no trauma.

Links For Reference:

W.H.O. on Child maltreatment:

Never too late to see a way out of a troubled marriage!

By – Gayatri Agarwal

Woke up with the love of my life;

 It looked like a dream to be his wife;

 One year into the marriage;

 And we were blessed with a baby boy in our carriage.

 Two years down the lane;

 The love started to fade away;

 Was he the same man, I couldn’t even say.

 Over the years;

 Domestic violence & abuse were raining over;

 It was like a complete turnover.

 The child who was in my womb for nine months;

 Was now the only hope in front.

 Eight years into the marriage and my dreams crashed;

 Now hope felt like trash;

 That’ when I decided I couldn’t take it anymore.

 Hid it from my family;

 Thinking they would never understand my story.

 Finally, when I broke the news of violence to them;

 They became my biggest support system.

 This marriage was now a ban;

 The trauma of my kid going away with that man;

  will never fill the void;

 But now I can at least look at myself without being paranoid.

 Looking back at the lessons that life has taught me;

 It seems like being bold, independent & strong wanted some fee.

 For people in an unhappy marriage;

 Don’t keep quiet in shame or fear;

 For that is definitely not a life you deserve.

 I’m proud to be where I am today;

 Because now, I have finally come out of the grey.

And the sun had finally set in the east!

"And the sun had finally set in the east.
The day is over,
And it was a tiresome day.
It felt like swimming against the tide,
And I don't know why we have to face this every day.
These catcalls and unwanted touchings,
Would this ever end?
I'm a man, and ashamed,
I wonder when we will be treated equally.
And Where the sun sets at the west.
Where the sun rises at the east,
I wish there were a world,
without being judged.
I want to grow a moustache,
I'm fed up with this femalevolent world!"

I’ve received this from an unknown world from my counterpart ahsraH irS jonaM. His will was strong, and his pain was real. His intentions were sharp, and they pierced the fabric of space-time, penetrated this world where the sun rises on the east and sets on the west. His thoughts and struggle were what I see in dreams. With respect to his world, this poem was kept as it is, and it is to be read from bottom to top, and not top to bottom. But the thoughts he transmitted were words and pieces of sentences which I had to work on and form them up in the words of our world! Those thoughts were forwarded to me each day, and I dated them from new to old.


“It is my birthday today, but I don’t feel any excitement. Wish I were born as a girl. It’s just like every other day, the sun went down, and the darkness was all over the place, and I had woke up. It’s 6:30 PM and just two hours left for me to login into my work. The world is still sick with the Bubonic plague, and it is now officially the biggest pandemic after the COVID outbreak back in the Justinian era. “


“Thanks to the lockdown, and thanks to the closing of parlours. I’m able to do what I have always dreamt. My moustache now has handles, and I can turn them, curl them. I feel proud twirling my moustache. My father, however, shaves his facial hair every day. He says a real cultural man never grows facial hair, and all the people who grow are just hippies. I never knew that I would look so good with a moustache. I don’t give a fuck about anyone, and I’m going to upload my new picture. From now on, my identity would be “the man who stopped shaving”. I feel so masculine, and I guess moustache really pumps the pride up! That might exactly be the reason why the women banned us and shamed us from growing it! I will also grow my beard and will see how I look!”


“The Primi minister Dimo Ji has spoken about continuing the relaxation taking precautions individually, and she is a good orator. Here I’m, wondering if the world is sick now, or has it always been ill. Of course, it was sick. This world reeks of flowers, and I’m fed up of looking at pink everywhere. They conduct workshops and awareness programmes for us men to grow financially and individually. But, I don’t see men encouraged enough to do anything.”


“Yesterday night, my mother told me how I should be prepared for marriage as there was a good match. The suitor was a doctor, and she was highly honourable. Yet, her family demands a dowry of two million for her research in neuroscience. Am I a man or a funding machine? Is this how girls see boys? Funding machines for their higher studies and research?”


“Today I was called a “bhore” once again! I can’t believe that I’m being called it even today when all the men are actively protesting against blut-shaming. All I did was reject a proposal because the girl was too demanding, and she started digging my profile, commented on my old pictures with my ex-girlfriend. She began telling people that I slept with my ex-girlfriend, and I was a real blut! She said to a few of my friends that she even fucked me! I can’t believe this.”


“I can’t believe what happened today. We are living in the 21st century, and people are still this dumb? A toxic woman, too toxic, just commented on my profile picture calling me an uncultured swine. It was insulting, and I asked her what her problem is. She said I was disgracing our country’s culture by wearing shorts and skin-tight Tshirt. She said that I’m trying to show off my pecs and shoulder muscles. I deleted all her comments and looked at her profile, and I was shocked! In all her pics, she was wearing a two-piece. There was even a backless picture and how is it fair for her to wear those skin-tight jeans, bikini and post semi-nude photos of herself, while all the boys should wear kurtas and dhotis. This blut-shaming is not new for me. My father always scolds me for not wearing my dhoti low and cover my feet. He says he had neither wore nor will he ever dream of wearing a sleeveless tank top. But I really like wearing a tank top. What’s wrong if I wanted to show them pecs off? Why are women’s boobs never censored?”


“My girlfriend just called me a brahstitute for being close to my female friends. She somehow remembered every argument and quarrel we ever had. Unfortunate for me, I have never thought her to be my possession, and I let her for her will. Never did I say anything if she comically flirted with my male friends. I know that she is not an object, but an individual with opinions and the mind with the same power of thinking as I. But she! She thought I was her object! She thought I’m like some ice-cream; that I’d only be used for sex. She considers all the female friends I have just wanted a piece of me. Am I not worthy of friendship? Is this what I’m? Just a body to use? I’m nothing but a walking penis?”


“Today is my birthday! 22 years of happiness! I choose to see the beauty of this world. I prefer to ignore the ugly side. Most of the time, nothing serious happens. Of course, we are suppressed; we are being oppressed. But I see the positive side! I would rather struggle and bash those dumb female idiots for trolling the meninist movement. My girlfriend just bought me a diary, and I’m going to fill this book with my thoughts. I will not be like the other men. I will not marry until I have an identity of my own. I should be firm and stop caring what the others think about me. My mother supports me too. I think she doesn’t want me to be a house-husband. She’s a modern mom and loves my sister and me equally. Waiting ahead for a beautiful year and success!”

His pain was real and was inter-dimensional. Let’s share and spread this message and learn from it if it had taught us something. Did it though?