Do not turn back now

Do not turn back. It would not be a good idea to turn back now. Keep moving forward, though the path looks tremendously tortuous with a myriad number of dark areas, but keep walking. Walk through the shades if you feel they are the right turns, you eyes will be accustomed and you will be able to see.

Do not stop now, do not turn back, because you have walked through that way, and whatever was there was not good enough to keep you entrenched. You moved away from it and thus you stand here. What lies ahead may be good or bad, but donot vacillate now, for what lies behind is conspicuously not enough.

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Jamie! Are you alright?

He could not see well it seemed. He kept rubbing his eyes, widening it along with his mouth, as if something made it difficult for him to breathe. It was a bad decision to come to this place. After all the warning, and the signs, I should have paid heed to them. Jamie sure did not think the same, for he did not look dubious like me, though he gasped more with each passing second, yet undeterred, still walking more inside the apartment.

“Are you alright Jamie?” I asked, and secretly wished that he would give me subtle signs that even he did not want to be here anymore.

“Yeah!” He coughed, and covered his mouth with his hands as he did. “I’m fine”. As he uncovered his mouth I thought I saw something drip from his hand. I tried to look what it was, and in the dim moon light which filtered through the dusty windows, I could articulate the apparent pitch dark drops on the floor, to be blood. He coughed blood.

“Jamie! Talk to me man. This place is doing something to you. I don’t know but I think we should leave. This ghost-hunting gig doesn’t seem like a good idea anymore.”

He kept walking. His indifference and the accompanied silence unsettled me further.

“Jamie! Are you alright man? What is it? Dude!”

I did not want to walk any further. I grabbed his hand tight, which except his head was the only thing exposed outside his clothes. I felt a shiver; starting from my hand which held him, travelling all the way to the elbow and then instantaneously spreading outwards from my spine through my whole body. It was cold, a cold shiver, more than goosebumps, it was something I had never felt before. I did not want him to turn around and answer me. I was afraid to see his face. I did not know what to expect. It was surely not the Jamie that I walked in with.
For, now I remember. I walked in alone.

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A Game of Thrones

The night so far,
yet day not here.
For the day is so dark;
no light, not near.
Some blink, some fade,
Some glare, some shade.
And the day, still dark;
so dark, I fear.
Some rule, some ruled.
Some kill, some hacked.
Some slay ahead,
some took aback.
A throne, alone,
of fire, of swords.
A game to play,
with blood, with words.
The night so far,
Yet the day not here,
A Game of Thrones,
of love, of fear.

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The Fall

I see myself being devoured in darkness. An abyss, the infinite depths of which scare me as I am being pulled more into it; fear takes hold of me as I pace down, uncertain of when the fall will stop, of when it will end, and along with it, may be my own life.

I know that the sooner I touch ground, the sooner I will cease to live, for the fall accelerates, buffered by nothing. There is absolutely nothing to hold on to, and even if there is; the darkness yields no vision of such an object. I wish I had seen more clearly as I walked, as I trod the paths that led me now, though unwillingly, here.

Has there been more great a dilemma, as the one I face now? A part of me is clinging onto life, praying that this fall should never stop, that a ground beneath should not exist. And there is another part which wants this trauma to end, to meet the ground, to stop being in the anxiety that hurts more than my heavily pounding heart. The former is definite of its fate – would there be no end to the fall ever, life is certain. The latter however is not sure – will it be hard ground, or will it be something that will absorb the impact, that will help me land alive and not crash to my doom.

Though confused the other part is, but more reasonable its desire. For a life with worry, a life only to exist, one with the sole purpose of being alive is more stagnant than death itself. You may still move, you may still breath, but only that much differentiates you from the dead.

Though confused the other part is, but more reasonable its desire. For it is better to take a risk, to be sure eventually, than to be at the mercy of a fall. You may live at the end and develop more purposes to be alive, more dreams, to live for; or you may encounter death, but the prospect of a better life, a life where you live, is better than to just exist. A risk taken to gain a life with more possibilities is better than one with no real purpose.

So now, I dream. I close my eyes, ignore the fall, the strong drafts that pushes my skin inside. For now, I dream, of what I would do when I live, I will plan of my steps once I land, I will be ready for my life, if it comes, as soon as this fall stops.

I may hit hard ground, but till then I would not spend my time praying for the fall to last; instead, ready for life, I will make myself, if life, not doom, is what awaits at the end of this fall.

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Lost the touch of solitude

I have lost the touch of loneliness. I kind of used to be an expert on it. Living alone, keeping myself shut from others, not being close to people; that and many more things qualified me to be a really skilled solitude-man. But not in my dreams had I thought that one day I would drop my grades in it; lose my touch in the art.

It is an art, of course. Humans are social by instinct, and to go against that and be perfectly fine, productive and to shine; that requires a lot of upstream swimming. You have to define rules, boundaries, and still feel free. You have to always look for ways to escape before you get into any social situation, and fill your mind with enough things to accompany you, so that you will never miss being with someone other than you.

People would call being alone, a depressing idea; but I disagree; I was rather proud of myself for being good at it, for being a successful and a happy solitary man. But I think it all started to change from that day, when I had sought out for people. This tracks back to only about a month ago; I do not exactly know the reasons that led me into that scenario, in fact, I think I had no peculiar reason as such. What I can clearly remember is me calling out to my friends, desperately I must add, to make a plan, for a night out. “I want to be with people.” was what I repeatedly said; it kind of felt weird after that night passed, because that statement made me look like an alien in this world of people.

I did have a night out that night, and it was a good one. However, since that night, I kind of kept having a lot of hang outs, planned a lot of them, and planned rather frequently.

Two days ago I shifted to a new place. From a room shared with 5 other people, I shifted to a smaller apartment where I could live alone; something I had always wanted, or at least something I truly wanted before the weird “I want to be with people” night.

I, now, finally live alone, but now I miss people. I keep looking at my cell to see if there are any text messages, I keep thinking if I should call someone for a hang out. I have lost the touch of something that I was proud to be. I am not sure if it is something good or bad, but I surely do know, that I just need to let this pass by. I will be back on my track, filling my brains with enough stuff to keep myself occupied, leaving little time to think about others. However, I also am pretty sure, that from now, I wont mind missing people. I wont think twice before calling a friend if I feel like being with him or her. I do realize that with it, comes the attached traumas, like disappointment, expectations, plans getting cancelled, friend not responding, futile waits, and a lot more. But, that is collateral; maybe one day like seedless grapes and bananas, humans will devise a way to have happy attachments without the emotional-behind-the-scenes-trouble; till then I will try to spit out the seed, and enjoy the pulp and sweet juice.

I will be the solitude-man again, regain my touch; but I will blend it with just the right amount of people, friendship, love and emotions. And that, I think, is not a bad thing.

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