The arm knolls its weary way to three. The world is fast asleep and so is I. Who is it then awake? Is it my conscience, or is it my soul. But I feel more at ease, more peaceful more lively this way. How are the asleep not more happy than the awake, I wonder!! What is the proof that I am currently me? Perhaps, it is not I but my wounds and scars talking through me. I went to sleep hours ago, but they could not sleep, they are wounds. It hurts them. They are still living the day trying to justify the agony they went through in the daylight. They choose the night because in the day I am awake, and I don’t listen to them. I care for others but about me. I take pride in telling myself that I care for all, but I am in fact a criminal for them, for truly me.Ignorance is one of them, solitude is another. The initial bleeds more and the latter aches miserably. How am I, even responsible I wonder? In the day they expect me to be a good human, to be nice to all, which means to strike the balance between all egos I am judged with. And to strike this balance I can’t be a part of the like-minded. I can’t have a group. I can’t have people who keep track of me. To say I can have everyone, but none so close.
My artificiality is injustice to myself. I am artificial when I don’t care about myself any longer. I don’t care what I feel, think or perceive. I just care what others think, feel or perceive. But that is again criminal. And even if I don’t be so, if I begin to care about me, how do I do that? Where is that mind to understand me? Where is that heart to feel for me? Where is that hand to stroke my shoulders when my head bends down? And where are those wrinkles of worry when I get hurt? Why am I so alone in this crowd of friends? I know I was born alone. But why is life re-engraving the same fact on me every day?
I can’t blame life for this. I can’t justify why I should have another minute of life. Some live for seconds. My brother died in two weeks. I have still had 21 years. How does it affect my neighbor if he sees me dead next morning? There is no way I can justify to demand more life. I am alive, this is a gift. I am me, it’s a miracle. I don’t deserve Hanika either. What have I given her besides few gifts and a thousand tears? She calls it ‘the priceless love’ but call it my selfishness. Without her support I wouldn’t have made even this far. I needed her myself. I was selfish. My love was selfish. Today I give up my right to live; I release all my possessions and surrender my rights over everyone and everything. What I must do is, die now.
But I am greedy. It is morning now. Within my hands is another day, another day to try and break this monotony, another day to let me be me and be nice to all simultaneously. Another day to listen to myself and do what I want to, another day to make my love feel special, another day to put smiles on all those faces who care about me, another day to live to glory for glory, and another gift from life. More time to live. I will not waste it. I will not disgrace life, I will not disgrace anyone. I will make my mark before I call it an end. I will live and I will live for all those who want to see me live. I must not forget that scar’s heal. I must not forget that pains subside. I must not forget the dream of better life. I must wait. I will wait.
