Him

One fine day walking down the streets, in perfect harmony with the realities of my broken world. If only the universe had given me some hints so I could prepare myself for what was to come. I was not ready for something so…perfect.

The sunlight would make his lashes cast shadows over his eyes but I could still look through. It was cruel. If I could just reach out and feel the warmth of his body against the cold of my skin. I couldn’t. He didn’t belong; maybe it was everything else. The sky was of the wrong color, ¬†people were walking backwards, even in their designated positions things seemed chaotic. Everything was just wrong.

As I got closer I was transfixed with wonder. How could something be so flawless. Now it all made sense. The sun rays traveled this far in hope of faintly discerning his frame. The winds blew so they could get lost in the maze of his curly hair. Fire was bright, trying to imitate the glare of his smile. The flowers bloomed only to match the allure of his words. They all struggled and were all defeated.

It was the kind of agony you begin to love. I fought the trap. It was no use, for I was already enticed by what was before me. Everything else merged into everything else. They lost their shapes, their colors and their purpose. As far as I can see there were blurred hints of objects fixed to the ground, floating around or hanging high above. Only his existence was rationale.

But soon enough I caught my reflection. I wasn’t there anymore. I had blended into my blurred surroundings. Nothing was enough anymore. Not even me.

Appellation

” In those days I wish I never met you. So I could sleep at night and I won’t have to walk around with the knowledge that there is someone like you out there. I didn’t have to watch you throw it all away. “

– Good Will Hunting (1997)

Instead of asking what I would like to be when I grow up, my mother asked me what is the most important thing to me – prestige, power or pounds. Once that is settled, I could get an unimpeded view of what I want to make of myself.

She was forced to change the conventional question because I just couldn’t decide what my passion in life was. Either every little thing amazed and inspired me or left me feeling weary…all at once! Either I loved everything or hated it. There was never an in-between and I never singled anything out.

High school is over. College starts in four months. The clock is ticking. Decide.

Time is up. Decide.

At age 5, my parents ran out of bed time stories to tell me so they asked me to tell them a story instead. I would always picture a vast green jungle with a variety of talking animals and start talking. Apparently, my stories never seemed to end.

At age 9, I spent all my free time at the school library. I loved our librarian. She would recommend all the best children’s books and later we would discuss about the once I’ve read. She treated me like an adult and taught me my opinions matter so why not make informed ones.

At age 12, I learned there is more to computers than the paint application and the miniclip games. We were taught HTML at school. It was beautiful how the letters and symbols transformed. And I created it!

At age 14, I had a new-found love for history. Suddenly it was fascinating to know how certain events have shaped the world as we know it today. The place I call home has been home to others too. Did they like it here? How did the crazy king’s policies affect their lives? Were they scared? Did they wish they didn’t have to be where they are or were they grateful?

At age 16, new academic subjects presented themselves. Accounting became my life. For the nth time now, I was sure about a new career choice. This is it! This is what I want to do for the rest of my life!

At age 18, I am woken up by my sisters at 1 in the morning. I got into one of the finest colleges in the country. Everyone is overjoyed. I go back to sleep without saying a word. I’m indifferent to it. That flame burned out like all the ones before it. It no longer excites me. Don’t ask me why, I don’t have a reason.

Always ready for a run. Always giving it my best, but never the same thing twice. I am meant for greatness, I told myself. I would be in the spotlight and the glory would be mine. The fact that I hadn’t accomplished anything in the real world yet, didn’t discourage me. The insignificant accomplishments were enough to push me forward. I am meant for greatness, I said when I looked in the mirror.

At age 21, I am left with nothing that I love. Things and people cause repulsion. Time either goes too fast or too slow. I stand still, lost and defeated. And I say

I wish I never met you. So I could sleep at night and I won’t have to walk around with the knowledge that there is someone like you out there. I didn’t have to watch you throw it all away.

to the mirage in the mirror.

Reminisce

It is amazing how a good book changes your entire perception about the world. You start to see the world through the author’s eyes.
Things, people, environment, circumstances, accidents, blessings, misfortunes and a lot many things combine to become a determining factor that shape a person. They affect everything in our life. How we like our coffee, which side of the bed we want to sleep on, what constitutes an achievement and how we treat other people; all of it was decided at some point in our life and that decision was influenced by something or someone. Many were made unconsciously and the elements that came into play have been long forgotten.
Some people believe there is no past and no future. The entire universe exists for just a moment, just this one second. Everything else is an illusion.
Everything that happens in our life, no matter how insignificant it seems, has an impact on us. We may not recognize it then. Though our memories of what was, in that one moment of consciousness in which the universe was real, may fade into oblivion eventually. The incidents, however, will live on through us as dreams, habits, goals or pet peeves.
It’s beautiful to know that when you are reading a book, listening to a song, walking in a building, looking at a painting or doing practically anything else in your life, you are experiencing the fragmented pieces of other people’s lives and it goes back to the very beginning even if in extremely small parts. That being said, you are never truly alone. All of universe is with you; supporting you, challenging and sometimes defeating you. But always with you.