Diary of a Cynical Suicide – Part 9

(A fiction by Sidharth Vardhan.
Please note that I started it as a fiction project that would use the disgusting ugliness to create some sort of literature. It was too close to reality to be worthwhile for anyone. If you are depressed or suicidal or are suspect-able, please avoid reading this diary. Those problems must be fought with all you have and the darkness contained in here can make your problems worse. Its only use can be found in the study of a very unhealthy and disgusting mind who has dumped his failures to find a value for his life in a dairy and ended up painting the whole world in black of his self-piety. The arguments he presents are all highly subjective and debatable and thus should not be considered wise at all. They prove nothing except the fact that he is a pathetic loser. You, whoever, are reading this, are a far superior person and should ask for help which is your birth-right as a human being and should ask for it and know that your life will be beautiful again. Yet I won’t take it offline as that seems to be cowardly. If you are curious, you can find all parts of ‘Diary of a Cynical Suicide’ here. )

diary of a cynical suicide sidharth vardhan fiction



I don’t know why I continue to write these notes. They have surely lived all I might have to say on these subjects. To be honest, if some idiot was to read them, he or she can’t be faulted for finding them for some snobbish exercise in style and a lot of navel-gazing. There is no defending against ‘navel-gazing’ criticism though I do believe only navel ever worth gazing are feminine. As for style argument, I must protest that I might have put in the effort to make them more eloquent, an artistic instinct but the emotion behind them was genuine. I didn’t even aggragate – a crime most bad artists like me are guilty of. I have to keep returning I guess because something in me still goes on fighting against the last wish.



The way my friends and well-wishers keep making jokes on me makes me think I probably deserve to be laughed at. There was a time, during my childhood from before the great sadness of life when ‘Joker’ was my nickname because I would always be smiling and making jokes. I consciously craved the ability to make people smile or at least laugh, even if they were to laugh at my expense. I wish I could go back to that unegoistic kid.

Pain letter


I spoiled or tried spoiling another of your interview. It can’t go on like that. If you are angry, you have a reason to. And I deserve every punishment. My brother admitted, without least bit of guilt, to stealing from us (in lakhs) when I was looking after granny and didn’t know from where my next meal would come from and was afraid that I won’t be able to take granny to hospital if she needed one. This was the last bit of the family I was born in. I know this doesn’t excuse anything.

It has been a while I have written a note in this diary and even more time since I addressed a pain letter to you. I don’t know what to do, wherever I think this ‘phrase’ is finally over – that d familiar instinct comes to me. In this world full of loneliness you had seemed, and despite everything continue to seem, an oasis of life for me. I can’t help it if all of a sudden all my being pleads with universe for a sip of your company. And even after your making it clear again and again, I still can’t understand exactly how you don’t feel the same.

I will never get over how little a place I hold in your life. How easy it was for you to miss a chance to meet me. How easily you can go for days without talking to me. Perhaps you won’t ever need to.

You said you wanted me as a friend but it seems that is not true any longer. Anyways I tried. I tried repeatedly for.old times sake but I failed. We have had like one good conservation and I am back to being loser I am. And we both know you can’t bear it any longer. I can’t cut my feelings and settle for only corpse of that beautiful illusion of you-and-I. 

There are yet again so many reproaches in me that I want to make and I am afraid I will end up making them – I don’t see it as your fault. You moved away, you stopped needing me when you weep, you grew stronger and normal in the one year and a quarter we have known each other but I still remain the freak loser that I was, accusing others for my pathetic being. It is obviously my fault and not yours. (none of this is sarcasm, please don’t see it that way)

I am sorry for annoying you with these letters when you are working hard for your career and don’t end me for emotional support either. I will delete your contact number and it shall stay deleted unless you decide to give it to me again by texting me or calling me. I know you don’t need me so don’t. I can’t help sending mails. Your email id is way too easier to find. So please don’t respond to any emails from me or better yet not read them. I hope  one day I will get used to your absence if I can think you are spamming my mails and have blocked my numbers. And from your reaction last time you thought I blocked you I know that my absence won’t bother you the least. I won’t ever block you since it tormented me when you did it. You were so nice being repeatedly around this far – even though you didn’t need me in life; you lapsed a couple of times but you are only human. You came back every time you left. You even tried getting into that you-and-I even though you didn’t believe in it. You even warned me that it will hurt me. And here I have been blaming you for everything. But I won’t any longer. I will go suffering from these anxiety attacks but I can’t tax you any longer. And I will try not to. And I can’t bear what seems like your indifference from the screwed point of view of pathetic person I have become when you are just too busy.

You are one of the best persons I have known, don’t let your terrible experience affect you in any manner.

Thanks for everything you did for me and sorry for every time I hurt you or spoiled your fault. You are right love is stupid. And I am a stupid loser.

My best chance at surviving is hurting you again and again by acting cynical and using masks because I can’t hurt you physically. I won’t do this any longer and you don’t want that either. You are not mine to hurt and I realize that.

You are right this friendship sucks. It doesn’t help either of us. I will suffer again and miss you badly but hopefully this time I will be able to stay away and not distract you from your work.

And I have no intention of killing myself at the moment. If the mobile is shut down in case you call, it is because of a low battery. I won’t call you the day I kill myself and I don’t think you will believe me (you are justified not to, after all the false alarms)

I know you are probably tired of all these goodbyes, I will try to make it last one. I have to delete your numbers because I can’t live with the fear of coming to WhatsApp one day and not seeing your avatar. You won’t know how it has made me feel before.

You are one of the best people around. I wish I deserved you. I wish I didn’t hurt you all the time I did. But let us agree we won’t let you suffer because of my bad moods in 2019. We shall both try our best to do that.

Bye and have a good life.

Not a pain letter


There is  a difference between reproach and an accusation. An accusation is judgemental, it says what a person did was what he or she would do anyway, doing it is that person’s nature. A reproach doesn’t judge, it says it expected you to be better than what you did and, in fact, continues to expect you to be better. If wants you to be punished. It looks for clarification, it tries to understand what made you act in a way inferior to the better person you really are. It says your actions hurt me but I know you are better and I want to be with you, so please tell me under what stress you acted in a way I had thought inferior of you.

You said you had told me you were fickle minded? Well, I told you I would depress you, that I was pathetic and you didn’t agree. So you knew what you were dealing with too. You said I should be happy with lies? It was you who had problem when I was wearing a mask of happiness. 

You are right about four things. You are fickle-minded. But all your different versions are good to humanity. Just good to different people. I have states of my mind that are disgusting. And if some of them implied that you are a terrible person than I am sorry because you aren’t. Just because you were there for.me one day doesn’t mean you will be there another day as well. It was stupid of me to assume that. You are an amazing person and you did leave me with some beautiful memories, and even a source of income. And all I have given you, in turn, is a pain letter. I don’t think I can even apologize for even that.

You told me what you think you really are. I still don’t agree. I still think you really are a better person. No one who is selfish and heartless would keep coming back. You are a far far better person. But you are right (second thing) about one thing. You can’t handle my bad moods. To be honest, I am no longer I can handle yours but if you believe I can, you are welcome to try again.

But to get back to the point, you are right you can’t handle my bad moods. No one can. Sis can’t either. And nobody should be made to. It is my problems and I must learn to handle them myself. It is nobody’s fault that I am a terrible loser. I opened the flood gates when you thought you could, but I am trying to close them again. I will manage that.

You said that I depress you. And I agree and I apologize. But this is real me. I can’t help it. You didn’t like the mask or real me. You said we should be happy in lies but you didn’t like my mask. I understand that too. You didn’t like my ‘mask’ version of lies but those are all I am good in. I don’t have your energies to find new ones every day. So here is the optins you have – real depressing me, the mask or none of me. And I have to assume this thing since if I am afraid you will be in bad moods if I ask you to. So it is last if you don’t text me. And as long as you text me first, I will try to assume it is third. Though it is really difficult for me. I am a loser I can’t help contacting you again and saying goodbyes again and again. So you will be one who might have to be one forcing me to live with the third. And if I really do depress you and you really were selfish person you would have done it already… But you don’t. Because of you aren’t selfish or psychopath. You are a beautiful person. If after such a long time of our friendship I couldn’t make it. You see that then I failed as a friend. I am sorry for that.

But seriously I will assume that it is third and you are just too good to cut me off. So I won’t contact you first or try not to.

But what if you contact me first? What I am to do then? To be mask or to be real me? 

And you are right (third thing) I should not have sent you the pain letter. It was a lousy thing to do. I won’t send this one now.

You are right (fourth thing) I can’t help digging graves in every conversation. The statement of truth doesn’t make you selfish, just honest. I try not to do so. I try hard. But that is a disgusting habit I seem to have developed of late. I will try to stop it. As I said I am trying to shut the flood gates. It is up to you whether you want to stick around while I try doing so or not.

But if you ever come across it on your own or due to my failure to keep it from you, just know that there was a time I wanted to go away because I thought I depress you and you didn’t let me. And  that shows what a good person you are. 

There were times when you left and came back because you didn’t want to be alone. And I did that too. Because I thought this was what we were. Stuck with each other. Now it is apparently just me. And I will try to cut myself away from your life one way or another. I won’t depress you. What you wrote didn’t depress me or caused any bursts of tears.

You were wrong about one thing. I am not a good person. If I was a good person I won’t have accused (to use your word) you as I did and as I said accusations are judgemental and so I was that too. I won’t have asked you to stop talking about your sex life. Now you know I am not a good person. Not at all. If you think I am compassionate and so a good person, you overrate compassion. I have failed you as a friend, lover and whatever else you thought of me. And you still come back, because you ARE the white swan.

I too don’t believe in commitment. I never accused you of moving to another person. I reproached you of making me feel redundant but that too was wrong and I am sorry. I share your values about relationships but it looks like my heart doesn’t. 

I told you what my guilty line was ‘statete ho jitna tum humko/Kisi gair ko yu sata me dekho’. You are right I knew what I was dealing with. And there is the only fault of yours that makes me make all those reproaches – I think of you as mine, if not in a romantic way which is not most important, than as a friend, but mine own. Those reproaches are the price you have to pay if you  want to come close to me. You don’t any longer want to. And I am trying to undo it because you don’t want those accusations which is what you think my reproaches are. And I will not let anyone close again – ever.

What still hurts, and this is neither reproach nor accusation, is that all you remember from everything – the times I got up for you, the songs and stories I wrote for you, the conversations, all the stories we shared, the countless times you thought you had done something unforgivable all you will remember is a pain letter I let pass of me. I want to think it was a letter written in anger, but than that is the only time I have seen you feel anything for me. 

I am sorry for all the bad moods I have brought you. I am sorry I am not normal like you. I am sorry if I needed time to adjust to changes in my life. I am sorry I came to you for comfort all those times. I am sorry if I couldn’t stay away from wishing you happy birthday when I was otherwise doing okay without you. I am sorry I remembered the day even when I had deleted the date. 

And I will punish myself for that. I won’t even write any pain letters or other letters to you. I will leave the choice of upto you. Decide. What (if anything) you want from me? The real depressing me, the happy lying mask or nothing? In case you decide to leave, remember you  and Sabah are still two of the best people I have come across. Sabah thought you were a free spirit. If Sabah or you or anyone decides to leave me, it is their right and choice. If I accuse them of leaving or being too busy, it is my fault, I am being a disgusting loser. It was wrong of me to expect you to ask me to stay. You are right. I am sorry for expecting that.

I have brought you enough depression but no longer. I won’t say goodbye again, since I too am tired of saying goodbyes and since you are the one who should decide whether you want me or mask around or neither. But if you opt for last, take care and know you are a beautiful person. You can’t be selfish even if you tried to. No matter what I or others say, you will always be a White Swan.

Pain letter


(A lost pain letter. I never intended to edit these notes. There was even a note to effect. But my site crashed and some of these notes were lost. I have done some editing rearrange some notes and rewrite a few lost ones from my mind.)

Another attempt


I took the pain pills that were supposed to be lethal large amounts – I took all the ones left, that is six times the prescribed dosage and just to make sure they work I took them on an empty stomach. And I took them at night to give them enough time to work. An uncomfortable night followed and, after that, a few somewhat less uncomfortable days, but I didn’t die. By now, I have tried hanging by ceiling fan, cutting wrists, jumping before train, taking lethal doses of medicine – I am running out of methods and death continues to play hard to get.

Pain letter


I guess you did listen to me and delete the last letter. Well, delete this one too. I will make it short. I am never gonna find any self-respect again – ever. And for the rest of my life, I will never be able to open up before another person knowing that they will walk out the second I learn to look at them for support.

You will shrug your shoulders and just say that you don’t care. You are a selfish person. I wish that was the case. I wish you were selfish. it would have been easier – I won’t suffer from this confusion where I can’t know how to look back at our times together and hate you and hate you without feeling guilty about it. But as you keep reminding me, you kept coming back. That is because you were not selfless, you wanted to be there for me. But you still walked away. Still ran away.

And that is because you are not selfish, you are something worse. You were a coward. And I don’t mean weak, but coward. A weak person is still strugglng. A coward just steps back. That is what you did right? You ran away because you can’t handle me at my worst. Right?  You have in to fear like a coward. If you were selfish you won’t come back. If you were weak, you would cry, ask me to stop – anything but run away.

But no, you had to be coward. You see this? This was an accusation – not a reproach. I clear cut accusation. I hope you will notice the difference.

There were clear examples bid your cowardice already. I just kept ignoring them. I just kept thinking they were some kind of weakness. May be a weak person would have cut the call to. Or acted angrily and run away. But he or she would at least have guts to feel sorry afterward.

So you are a coward. And I hate myself forever sticking along. So you tell a suicidal person how much he depresses you and how empty of any use his friendship is to you? I can not believe I repeatedly chose to want you in life, to beg you to come back. What a loser I really am? So many times I fought with my better judgement because, oh, you wanted me as a friend. And even if you had to leave, this is good bye I get?

Yet again, I won’t promise you that this would be another letter. But I really am trying.

Akbar and Birbal


In one of the countless short stories about them, when Akbar asked Birbal to tell him a sentence that would make a happy man sad and a sad man happy, the later said, “this time will change” I wonder whether it makes Akbar sad or happy? I think he refused to believe that anyone could take away his happiness. And thus Birbal’s sentence was ineffective on the very person who heard it.


But let us for now disregard the possibility that a person would be unable to believe in it. Will it make a happy person sad? Yes because the sentence contradicts his secret hopes (and, to some extent, beliefs) that he will be able to be happy all his life. Will it make a sad person happy? No. A sad person always hopes and thus, to some extent, knows that the time of his sadness will pass. The affirmation coming from Birbal’s words would either be completely ineffective (for the person already knows it) or strengthen his hope. And hope, despite what popularity it has as a survivor’s quality, is also a catalyst of misery.


Without hope, a sad person would kill himself/herself. Hope while letting him/her survive also makes the person suffer all the more every single moment from the misery of realization that another moment has passed, he or she is another step closer to the grave, and this sadness has still not gone away.


Thus the idea that everything is temporary doesn’t in anyway make one happy.

Dying Friend


I am going to meet a friend who has just gone through a heart attack. It is in the middle of the night and everything is dark in more than one way. No on to talk to and I am in a strong need for a distraction. I can’t help thinking of injustice of it all. Here I am eagerly wishing for death; yet living despite bad health, and that guy who has a family and no shortage of well-wishers dying and who was only yesterday in best of health is fighting death though against all reason and logic.

Cynic and Nihlist


I read this quote somewhere, perhaps from Wilde, “A cynic is a person who knows the price of everything and value of nothing.” As much as I am indifferent to insults to my way of thinking, this one seems simply ridiculous. The one who doesn’t know the value of anything is a nihilist whether or not he knows price doesn’t matter. Either way, he won’t care to get it. A cynic is someone who just thinks that value is just isn’t worth paying the price. He knows value as well as price – unlike other philosophers who for ideas they believe in, only know value and not price. Cynics are stereotyped as bitter and they are so because they know that price is not worth value. If they didn’t value anything at all (like nihilists) they won’t have anything to be bitter about. Carlin rightly said, “scratch a cynic and you will find a disappointed  idealist” he was right and an idealist is by definition someone idiot, but that is not the point, the point is that he is also someone who values stuff.


All cynics must, of necessity, be nihilists too. Because nihilism is the inability to believe in something. And cynicism is being, by by nature, be critical of it. Barring the hypocrisy of believing in something that you are too critical of to believe in it, all cynics must also be nihilists. And nihilists must of necessity become either suicide or murders. Perhaps both. Because nihilism is inability to believe in something.


If I call myself both a cynic and a nihilist, it is because I happen to sometimes manage to detach myself from my soul (a sort of metaphorical out-of-body experience). When  I am not detached, I am a cynic who values a lot of things and must pay the high price for everything though knowing full well that it won’t be worth it but when I am detached nothing matters and so I am a nihilist. I live most of my life a bitter cynic but I will die a happy nihilist.


Everyone is cynic to some extent in fact that everyone will like price of everything to be reduced and most people, including me, love stolen pleasures. If only I had a conscience healthy enough to steal.



Did I mention this or not that I hate the whole of this disgusting world. The happy ones are bannal and miserable ones are pathetic. Everyone is disgusting.


I hate everyone equally. I hate murderers, pimps, and rapists for their actions. And I hate those who are prejudiced against sex, race, religion, nation, caste, etc for their prejudice. And I hate those who because they have given themselves some fancy labels like feminists, human rights activists, social workers etc for being so judgemental of those who are so quick to judge. And I hate those who have to suffer because of these people exactly because they had to suffer. And I hate myself for hating everyone.  And you, who are reading this, I hate you for being loser enough to read this.



Voltaire once said “God save me from my friends, I will take care of my enemies.” How apt an observation that was, how apt! Voltaire once said “God save me from my friends, I will take care of my enemies.” How apt an observation that was, how apt!



The lesson I learnt in last few months is that no one in this whole wide world deserves your compassion and kindness. Especially distrust those who show concern for you.


I had already lost my illusion about how important one’s family is and now I have lost my illusion  about friends too. Now I know that there is no cure for loneliness. In Dante’s hell, only two people who were not alone was an infidel couple but that was a poet’s romantic imagination. You are always going to be alone, whether in heaven, hell, earth or love.

Broken People


I used to have a soft spot for broken people. The things normally made me avoid people, in general, would be ignored by me when I saw them in broken people because I used to think that this behavior is because of their being broken, and once they are unbroken, they would be awesome people, having the strength of normal people but not those things I consider disgusting – the willingness to judge someone quickly, the willingness to desert someone who needs you, etc. But now I know better. Broken people, once they are unbroken, are just like other normal people. Dr. House was right, people don’t change, they just become more of themselves. I learned this lesson too later. I could be so far richer if I had learned this earlier. But now I know this, I can say without any reserve, that I hate the whole of humanity.


If you read above, you surely would comment I am myself judging the whole of humanity so it is hypocritical of me to judge others for doing so. I have nothing against hypocrisy and I will surely love to tell you to shut your beak and return to your paradise pond with your normality and judgments but what I truly believe is that I am not a hypocrite in this regard because I hate myself just as I hate others. I am punishing myself just as I am punishing others.

New Years


I hate new years just like my birthdays, yet another new year is coming and I do not wish to live to see the sun or 2019 rise on this disgusting world. I see yet another suicide attempt on its way.


The old year I about to make way for new. And it the order of things. The old, having played its role, must make way for the new. And is it not what Christmas spirit beneath all its merrymaking about? The winter of old life making way for new? It is time for me to go too. To live beyond the time you are needed by the world is pathetic. “We either die heroes,” Harvey Dent pointed out, “or live long enough to be villains.” I have already become a villain but I don’t intend to live into another year. And yet strange as it might sound coming from a suicide (it sure did to me when coming from the Doctor), I don’t want to go just yet.

Copyright – Sidharth Vardhan

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