I, Unending
Dear Diary
I have so often heard people remarking “so and so has become a ghost of themselves.” I never really knew what that meant till I looked into the mirror today. Yes the alcohol has begun it’s work. My tell tale face reveals it all. Sometimes I feel like retracing my footsteps, lovingly trace the outline of feet and toes in the wet sands of time. When did I lose my hope? It was all I had. I lost it somewhere. Maybe I will find it lying just in some dark corner of my house. A corner I have not visited in a long time.
I have started having a strange fascination towards stories. The stories in the faces of people, in the howls of the winds… I marvel at the stregth of people. They manage to pull out smiles even in their weakest moments. I wish I would sometime learn to do that. I have all the time in the world and no one to share it with.
I sometimes wonder what do those people think of me… the ones I love. Or rather do they think of me at all? If they had thought of me ever, would I be so lonely as I am today? What happens when the sharp edges of a blade seem to look real friendly to your throat. One quick motion and it’s all over. Frankly I do not have the courage. All the inclination. But no courage. What is it? Cowardice or Courage? Dying a thousand deaths everyday, at the hands of those that I love, but not be able to face death from the hands of the one who loathes me the most…? Myself.
How did I reach here? When will it be over. I can’t open my eyes. The eyes that have seen so much. I pity them. New emotions. Claustrophic emptiness. Torn into a thousand bits, my flesh feels raw. My heart doesn’t feel anything anymore. I close my eyes to feel the free fall…
Only one voice in my head…
God please finish it quickly…
- Neha
Isaiah says:
I jumped, O my brothers, and I fell on the sidewalk hard, but I did not snuff it, oh no. If I had snuffed it I would not be here to write what I written have. It seems that the jump was not from a big enough heighth to kill. But I cracked my back and my wrists and nogas and felt very bolshy pain before I passed out, brothers, with astonished and surprised litsos of chellovecks in the streets looking at me from above.
- A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess.
July 18th, 2006 at 06:22 pm
Isaiah says:
Maybe my boredom, my inactivity or my sheer desire to not do anything makes me want to jump out of the window…with my guts lying out in the open for all to see and to cover up their noses with their pristine white hankerchieves. To be left there as a white outline which would be erased slowly by people walking over it with heavenly rains helping them in removing those chalk marks. What if?
July 18th, 2006 at 06:31 pm
anirudh says:
wish nothing dies..nor does dis..!
July 18th, 2006 at 11:51 pm
Isaiah says:
Maybe every thing is already dead!!
July 18th, 2006 at 11:55 pm
Neha says:
maybe
July 19th, 2006 at 11:29 am
rafael says:
BG 2.12: Never was there a time when I did not exist, nor you, nor all these kings; nor in the future shall any of us cease to be.
BG 2.13: As the embodied soul continuously passes, in this body, from boyhood to youth to old age, the soul similarly passes into another body at death. A sober person is not bewildered by such a change.
BG 2.14: O son of Kunt?, the nonpermanent appearance of happiness and distress, and their disappearance in due course, are like the appearance and disappearance of winter and summer seasons. They arise from sense perception, O scion of Bharata, and one must learn to tolerate them without being disturbed
February 16th, 2008 at 05:03 pm