I’ve always wanted to be someone else. Someone who is idolized, admirable, exemplary and consummate. Yes. I’ve habitually imagined myself winning awards – awards, which I knew, can never be pulled off by the worthless me in the veracity. I often envisage myself as the ideal student who is good in all the subjects, gets proficiency, does remarkably well in the competitive exams, rivets herself heavily in sundry clubs, is preppy and has a good affinity with the teachers.
Life has been going on leaving me behind. These indiscriminate ramblings of my heart have given rise to a kaleidoscope of emotions. The timeless shadows of images seem to whisper to me saying “Don’t Desert Your Optimism, hold on…” Sometimes I have this funny feeling of going back in time and being there enjoying the solitude enveloping me. The myriad dreams, qualms, aspirations, imaginations, and desires that I once possessed have now been forgone to the enduring tides of destiny. Every little thing that I’ve said and done, right now it feels so surreal and illusory to me. I wonder how I’ve lost those precious and treasured bits and pieces of my otherwise vindictive and unkind life?
How can I grasp the remorseless and numb reality that I could’ve been rejected? How has life got me this way? Now, I feel life goes on, as it never winds up. With the eyes of stone and heart of concrete rock I persist to observe the drifts that repudiates to stay frozen and iced up. Now, when I’m forsaken, I ask myself the sensation of being lonesome. I seem to get that no one wants to be unaccompanied. All desire company willfully or reflexively. I ask myself the gist of lying at a point in life with only camouflaged thoughts, disguised dreams and distraught wishes of a bleeding heart, which are unspoken of and are considered hallucinating and delirious. But now after all I’ve been through I feel myself to be stronger and much more rooted. I feel myself to be standing on my feet which were once crippled with anguish and misery and face up to what I’m challenged and confronted with. When I look back, I feel myself to be a candle swaying painfully in the excruciating wind. I feel that no matter where life takes me, no matter how it judges me, I’ll remain true to what I believe is true till death. I know now that I can’t be what I’m not. I’ve now encountered and surmounted the assessment of times through its dingy fears to its heavenly and divine bliss of ecstasy and thus through its shades of black and blue. I know now that the obscurities I meet will resolve themselves on their own as I advance on the shadowy trail of ambiguity. I know that however mean my life is, I have to meet and live it – I can’t eschew and call names to myself, however much I long to. Bliss is one of the emotions you can’t fix by yourself.
I’m in a mirage every minute, every hour. Seclusion has forever been a close crony of mine – forever. I’m leaving my somber soul and my quintessence in the hands of The Almighty. But life is too darling to me to relinquish it. I’m perpetually trying to screen my segregation, which is time and again mirrored in my eyes in the paltry form of tears which are deeper that the deepest sea, like summer’s shower to my soul…but I’m not ashamed of it…I don’t know what they mean, but I know that they come from the depths of some celestial despair. I often wonder what will happen to all those tears I won’t be shedding? My heart now smiles at its past night of tears like a wet tree glistening in the sun as the rains are over. With a smile on my lips and a tear in my eye. My tears are God’s dreams…just like the stars…remembered in the silence of the night. And there I’m with my 2 lives. In one the murky realities escort me, and in the other charming fantasies and engaging enamors pilots me to someplace where only reflections can flicker and sparkle with wretched gaiety. And I know I won’t be able to live with the dearth of any one of them. Both are more dear to me that anyone else. And perhaps that’s why; everything I do is elicited by a mysterious emotion of either longing or dread.
I know now that if I stand alone, the world will stand by me. The test I must set for myself is not to march alone but to march in such a way that others with long to join in. I walk alone as no one will respond to my call…no one will, no one can. It has finally dawned on me that even the world lives alone. Solitude, now, is my haven and refuge of purification, refinement and refining. During this process, I’ve now come across the furtive secrets of solitude. That there is no such thing. The fear of being alone with ourselves is…a feeling of discomfiture, flanking sometimes on terror at seeing a person at once so well known and equally strange; we’re frightened and we scamper away. We thus fall short to spot the prospect of listening to ourselves and thus we disregard and overlook our conscience, ethics, scruples and our sense of right and wrong.
Frankly, I don’t wanna be alone! No! I just wanna be let alone – and that has made all the distinction in my life. My solitude is my consultation hall with the almighty. I was never meant to live alone or with others. Now I fear intimacy more than loneliness.
No one has helped me along the path where I’ve discovered solitude, where I’ve found unnamed worlds, inexplicable, affluent and full. Now if others intercede and intrude it’ll alas be shattered and ruined. This measure of thought, which I’ve accomplished by emancipating myself from the dissonant peripheral world, has been nourished by my inner strength and resilience and my surroundings can’t sway or manipulate me in any way other than to leave me in serenity and tranquility. I reverie by myself, I ditch myself to my melancholy in all its serration and indiscretion. Solitude is my font of synchronization. The sunshine of my tears.
I’ve learned that a shattered chimera is a grief-stricken incident but an illusion less verve, vim and vigor is a grief-stricken life. I’ve to discover and sketch myself between them.