The Parting words Part-2

Its not that I have always suffered from the lack-of-Sad-enough-sadness disease. Some three years back I had gathered hurts which could make me feel sad enough to feel important, proud and happy. But once I realized that I am not the only one living in this glory, believing that I am the chosen hero of the great tragedy that has happened and can happen only to me, the whole aura faded out. I don’t know how and when it happened. Perhaps it happened over a period which involved a lot of Confiding and confessing. Now I regret being a Confidant and a confession box, partly because I could never be the one whom someone would confide about and majorly because my belief in the glorious pain and suffering disappeared after I heard the monotones of trivial hurts in which all my confiders were taking pride. The worst thing that happened was that misery became something to be laughed about and mocked at, this is what happens to every common place thing. The sympathizer in me became a cynic and the cynic became a story teller, telling stories out of confessions on which the listeners would sulk and I would laugh. Its may be because of loss of innocence or loss of conscience, or may be both but the point is, for me there is no real sadness except for the sadness that THERE IS NO REAL SADNESS.
I wonder if all story tellers are suffering from this disease. If you want to tell a story you can’t actually be sympathetic. It has to appear to you like a story and not as something worthy of mourning. You listen to them, you sympathize, and you enjoy the sadness and then celebrate it by writing it down using all your vocabulary and writing techniques. I am not really sure whether all the story tellers are cynic or not but I want to find it out.
So here I am a story teller, a cynic and not-so-sad person. But now the question is whether I am a lover. Of course this question comes immediately to the mind once you talk about confiding, parting words the burning moon, the beer can and the sadness which is three years old.

The Parting words

The blue light from the Intex speakers of the PC struck the glass panes, and the moon shining on the other side appeared to be burning with it. The half empty Beer Can kept on the monitor was ready to fall any moment on the bed on which I lay watching the fan, the blue light and the burning moon, well not in that particular order. In fact in no order at all. Few days back before saying the parting words, it was said to me, that "Order is important to maintain Sanity". Strangely I don’t remember the parting words, I just remember the insanity and the order which could never be there. I am not drinking out of heart ache or out of loneliness or out of anything at all. The matter of fact is I am not drinking at all. Beer cans were brought here for boredom-Outcome-party some 10 days back, but the celebration couldn’t last long enough for each of the Cans and boredom has since then allowed the can to stay back. So the point is why should I put the Beer can, the blue light, the moon and the parting words altogether in my story? To create the effect? May be, yes. But my point is, that there is no effect at all, its just that I want some effect to be there. I do remember the parting words in the first place, although I was honest about the order and sanity thing. I am not trying too hard to lie. It comes easy. Sustaining the lies is difficult. You can’t live long with the glory of forged hurt.
Recognizing the absence of a "Real" sadness to bank upon is perhaps more hurting than any of my forgery. I have long assumed that a sadness which is sad enough is a sign of maturity, intensity, passion and other big-bang theory kind of things. I feel extremely sad when I see people crying their heart out after Half a can of Beer. Not for them, but for myself, because I feel so small in front of them as there is nothing in me which is waiting to come out so desperately that even a half can of beer would help it. Yes, that beer can belongs to my room partner and now you can understand why the party could not last long enough. But then here is the catch, I said "I feel extremely sad when I see people crying their heart out". So there is something waiting in there. Though I don’t cry out of it but that’s probably because I don’t drink enough.