I feel terribly lonely. I stretch my hands to touch you but it only brushes against my memory, frizzles and you fade into smiles while the gajini tune in the background dissolves. You appear again, I try to hug you but only end up crossing my arms hugging emptiness, I see you slip out of my embrace into my mind with your face infront of me. Crazy.
It has definitely been long since I wrote you a long epistle, there are so many things to tell and none to utter, so many to share and no words to express, what is the point telling you what has happened to me since I have come here, what is the point narrating my experiences when they are just mine and no story could re create it, it remains as nothing but my memories, good or bad I bury it silently, I feel wicked too for I know they are solely mine safely locked and chained and left aside in my private library.
What does it mean to be a companion? We are both different individuals, with different organs and functions, thoughts perceptions and experiences, how much do we share, what do share and how truthful are we to be? As a human as much as I have tried to be truthful sometimes I wonder whether I really have been, even to myself, there are times and incidences which make you lie to yourself, hide things from yourself where a part of you knows the truth and the other denies it, is it the battle between your superego, id and ego?
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