the art of sulking

Some people are born to be nice. Some to be famous. i was born to be a sulker. To sulk over everything and nothing. To sulk when he cannot read my mind and do or say the things i expect him to without my prompting him. To sulk if the sun does not shine on days when i expect it to. To sulk if things do not go the way i want them to. To sulk just because i feel like sulking.

i love sulking. In fact i think i am addicted to sulking if there is such a thing as getting addicted to a state of mind.

If my mother could be believed, and all mothers should be believed, i have been sulking since birth. Sometimes for valid reasons.Sometimes for no rhyme or reason. Which makes living with me a kind of art - to decipher the reasons for my sulking and wait for it to end. When i sulk, all i want is to be left alone, not to be talked to (or talked about), to wait for it to subside just like you wait for the tides to ebb.

i can sulk for days. i can sulk for weeks. i can even sulk for a month - though the last time i did that was about a decade back. Now that i am supposed to be a responsible adult - whatever that means - the most i can afford now is days.

i love sulking because i think it gives me a chance to withdraw into my shell without anyone prodding and poking me and i get to talk to myself for hours! If i had any sense i should have denounced this world and be daydreaming in some dark cave somewhere in the himalayas. But i guess it is too late now that i have managed to get myself shackled to ties of love.

So i continue to sulk. As a devious means to get my way. Sometimes to get out of fights. Sometimes to pick fights. To escape.

The more i reflect on my nature, the more warts i find. The more warts i find, the more besotted i become with myself. It is almost as if my mind is trying to compensate for the lack of love a nature like mine would most likely encounter. It will forever remain a mystery to me why i am still loved by everyone i want to be loved by. Maybe they fear i will start sulking!!

P.S. Apropos of my previous post, my sister finally did the needful. Which made me realise that i am only taken seriously when i am angry. Now, who can blame for being such a short-tempered hag?