It’s nights like these
Desolate and delusional
That make me wonder if it’s solitude that I’ve always longed out
Or am I making do with a tiny shadow masking as the same
For why else would I yearn for a breathe
Or seek a voice that dispels the mist
I am of my own making
Standing intrepidly on a fork
With one taking me into the unknown
The other one taking me back where I come from
The proxy – a realisation that never comes
I woke up in the middle of the night on a Sunday with a line stuck in my head “it was your indifference I couldn’t get enough of”. I knew it wasn’t the complete “Terribly Tiny Tale”. Now, any normal person would dismiss it as the onset of Monday morning blues. Not me. Being the dork, as the demigod calls me, I took a fancy to it. Next morning, I woke up puffy eyed and went to work. Every spare minute was spent digging in the archives. Success eluded me and the 140 – character marvel written by an anonymous (to me) author haunted me. Fast forward by three full days and I’m still there.
Metaphorically, I’m still hung up on the indifference. The line hits closer to home than usual. It’s always been spurts of conversation followed by long stretches of indifference. My being has always been conjectured. That is, until, I decide to put a stop to it. What happens next is role reversal. Now, I stand on a podium way above your reach and sight, and you are nothing but an assumption to me. I’m spiritless and it’s my own indifference that I can’t get enough of.
There’s a maze that exists in this place I know of. A place where I step out into the unknown and gingerly tiptoe around, seeking comfort. I am uninhibited, I fly. The only known restraint is the skepticism. I don’t know what I’m looking for, I don’t why I’m looking for it, if anything at all. I’ve risen about the generics and am attempting to venture into the maze. I step in an encounter a couple of familiar faces. Glee, euphoria, love, vexation. Its numb. A faceless void drifts ahead of me. I step deeper into the maze and try to get closer. Suddenly, I see fear. Split into two, I try to figure out how to proceed. I weigh the possibilities; I close my mind. After an infestismal amount of space and time, I end the deliberation. I move towards the void. With each single step, the faces grow distant. I’m, however, too deep into sonder to give it a thought. I grow closer to it. The void isn’t distant anymore. With every single breathe, I get deeper into it. Anticipation builds up, the known is left behind. I reach the void. It calls onto me. Without giving what I left behind a single, or even a half thought, I embrace it. I’m hit by a plethora of emotions. It’s comforting, it’s surreal and it fills up a gap that I never knew existed. I step aside and keep walking on, with content. It’s only when I turn back towards the void that I discover another face has taken its place. Melancholy. Sweet Melacholy. It’s only after I found you that I realised all the faces where mine. You came and churned out the sense. It’s only when I met you that I could begin to find myself. My sweet Melancholy.
Isn’t that what we do? “Making pretzels in places unseen”, or so said this demigod I’m friends with. It’s chaotic and exhilarating and pointless yet so meaningful. I look for places and try to anchor down at the next comfortable or sparkly spot I find but then, in a jiffy, the detachment is back. Place to place, person to person, one obsession to another antidote, I keep seeking when it’s right with me. It’s a beautiful mess that I create, made ever more so by the order that follows. I live in delusions and look for the answer in the most improbable spot ever. Failing even more so when I refuse to see what’s staring me at my face. One distraction follows the previous and intermittently, I hunt for the panacea. Maybe, this is what I’m supposed to be. Forever yearning, ever so restless, incapable of being tied down and lost in a myriad of pretzels, made ofcourse in places unseen.
It was pure chaos. Moving into a new city. Staying away from home. You pause for a moment and boom! You’re surrounded by strangers. Not one familiar face. Piece by piece, you start trying to build a life. Day 1 goes bad. Day 2 is on the verge of getting to “worse” when you decide to text somebody. Somebody you don’t know. Somebody you just know of. Somebody who doesn’t know you back. Somehow, you end up across the road, waiting for the same somebody to come pick you up and take you for a friendly, harmless cup of coffee. This is when everything changes. Amidst all the chaos, you see the psychonaut. Carefully trying to cross the road and move towards you. He crosses the road. For no reason, there is this excitement and anticipation building up inside you. He crosses half the road and comes midway. You get a real glimpse. He looks sleepy. Sleepy, yet extremely cute. He has this vague look on this face, a look that suddenly pumps up some sense into the chaos. Maybe, I start thinking, this is how it is supposed to be. He crosses the other side of the road and finally comes towards you. You put out your hand to shake his but before you can see that, he gives you a one – armed hug. Suddenly, you feel warm, And that is how the chaos takes a turn for the best!
I came up with this list of words over a period of time and each one represents a memory or an emotion attached to it. So let’s start with a word a time and write about it! Here it goes:
- À la folie
All these words have had a huge role in the past eight months – the best ones of my life. Here’s hoping to that I can articulate them well enough to give hem justice :)