As I entered the room , I looked fit, physically. Oh! Of-course I am. I thought it was mental fitness which compelled me day after day to become more abstract in expressions.The sudden overturns in mood often draw me towards galloping depths of abysmal abyss. Its cyclical as it happens every week .People celebrate their weekends by toasting beers , and I here in my closet use to celebrate my weekend in self pity with fully or completely drowned in tears. The countdown often begins with sudden mood swings which I often fail to acknowledge until it culminates into a full grown storm of anxiety which obviously ends in some deep cries or some washing away of all that is unwanted and unwarranted. The unprecedented pain that these cycles of Anxiety usually carry with it, is beyond words. I had always abhor this sort of living as I have never been used to it and now deeply driven by it I fancy to conflate it . Perhaps something went wrong with my stars or maybe they are too bruised and busy in contemplating their funeral in some inexplicable tricky ways so as to perplex the world. I fancy such words like joy , like happiness , like incredible , wait! Wait a second! Incredible is something I am very well aware of. Of-course I do, I feel incredible shocks of anxiety every now and then. See, this is how my father taught me, How to translate your feelings into catchy statements. My father often advice me that , son , when u are translating , do two things
- Deliver in words which are everyday in use but profound in understanding.
I never did it. Perhaps I never ever even tried to be a good son or maybe I never thought that my father deserved some sense of understanding on my part. Some guilt is inevitable in our lives. The effort is to minimise, of-course the injury. I also fancy some meaning out of my cerebral incapacity to deal with these sudden gusts of anxieties. Perhaps lonely star cries too much and in the process dies out of its own mass. Then there is absolute nothingness that prevails wide and large over my sight. I do and most often fail to recognize that what i perceive depressive is a blessing in disguise. How many of us are blessed with this ability to wash our own selves of our own selves? Very few indeed, I agree but then I never wanted this. To demand something out of life, we all fantasize it but this???? I never longed for such a dismaying outcome. Sometimes unwanted gifts bring forth a continuum of endless longings and yearnings. Yeah one thing that I learnt during this whole so called journey ( from nothingness to nothingness) is, capability to disguise sorrows into happiness. Perhaps I never presumed such a level of long lasting cycles of solitude. I don’t know how people proclaim that solitude propels their flight, It nearly killed mine. I envy such people. I visit my solitude whenever I need some space to do so-called coward act of conjuring tears out of my eyes. It seems perfect at time. This art u know , to conjure tears out of now where , without anything to cry for but yet when these fire balls roll down the slipper bumpy roads , I don’t know how and what makes me feel good? Whether there is something called good? And if it persists , it must be luxury of some hardcore evangelist who enforces self made standards on abstract things. I don’t know what asks me to forget every damn thing and just be lost in crying, washing one’s self of one’s own self. Emptying one’s self is a necessity in this terrible world which always wishes to make u rotate on its own term and conditions. I fancy such life where I can live by my rules and can afford my own wishes. I envy people who live one or may be many live in a single moment. I wish I could learn it.
And as I look back, I see ,I wrote a whole damn essay while evaporating my pathetic condition. I presume, readers gonna puke their vile upon me in a disguised fashion known as sympathy. We don’t need sympathy we need good listeners who can listen to us incessantly without being uncomfortable for a second. Do they exist? Seek and shall you find (bible) . But then I m gonna cry once more and wash it all out of me. Alas I found some use of this anxiety.