Cranberry Sauce

I am sad. But I am not quite sure about the origin of my sadness, nor its magnitude. I wonder if I’m sad or depressed, or very sad or very depressed. It has a sense of finality about it – like the end of an era, or the end of all hope. The only thing that comes to my mind when I think of nostalgia now is nitesh jain. To say my life has spiraled downward into apathetic degeneration would be just too dramatic and quite unreal. I can feel the life slip out of my hands, but to make things better (or worse) it’s as if I’ve been administered an overdose of tranquilizers to ease the pain. What I have then, is the sight of my slow, methodical amputation by my own hands, before my own eyes, while the rest of my useful faculties lie gagged and anesthetized so that I can see my own pain, but yet not feel it. Anticlimactic culmination is again too strong a phrase to use, this feeling is soft, innocuous, numb… brutally agonizingly incapacitating, but comfortable in its execution. Like a painless de...