There is a phone right next to me as I type this. And the only thing that separates me from talking to someone is a speed dial button. And my head. Like a house ransacked by clumsy burglars, it lies in wait. For someone to come and raise the alarm. To maybe even attempt and create a semblance of half-order. I stand paused by nature, guilt and a ferocious gust of sadness.
I was good yesterday. And for a long time. All this time that I wasn't here, I was standing behind the camera and instructing excitable, young girls to look happy. Though I didn't really need to. I have noticed models have this mysterious vault of happiness. And they willfully scatter handfuls of it around. But it is of course, a professional demand. Like a gloomy philosopher who is contagious with his darkness. Or like an advertising writer, from whom you might contract a curious blend of arrogance and insecurity.
I deviate. The point is, that sometimes I go about life waiting for things to get better. Without doing too much. I am scared, lazy and completely unfair when it comes to myself. I refuse to give myself a chance. I accept things people have deduced about me. And if it irritates me, I try to sleep it off. Now with a recurring affair with sleep apnea, that too is becoming a problem.
I had a limited conversation. And I can recount from memory every word she used. I could almost see her. Weighing the words in her mind, forming them with quick taps of the finger, then a pause to read it over. Followed by a quick tap again to send. And though I tried my level best to tell her about how I feel, I failed. The wooden letters of modern messaging systems are completely and utterly unemployable as communicators of micro-emotions.
Not just that. I was also terribly afraid that her little acceptance of me would be lost forever if I pushed it. And before I knew it, she was gone. Back in her world of trinkets and magentas. And as I held on to the little magic brick in wait, I fell truly and deeply asleep. Unhindered by the chokes and gasps of big city nights.
Is it really too late for another dream?
That's Hagar the Horrible by Dik Browne. One of my original favourites.
11 comments:
Urban Melancholy.
No label more apt for the post.
Well, its your life. And this is entry is sort of like the ones we make in our personal journal.
And i know i wouldnt want someone advising me or critizing me on that.
So wouldnt do that to you either.
But would just like to say that your words just simple amaze me. Very few people i know can string 2 words together as well as you do, and describe a situation .. emotion so vividly.
Until Later
P.S- Alarm not gone off yet. I think its safe to dream again.
you depressed, depressing soul.....I know not what to say, really, so I offer silence.as always.
wow,just WOW!
The wooden letters of modern messaging systems are completely and utterly unemployable as communicators of micro-emotions. God, I want to kiss you! This is THE TRUTH! :D
And also:
Like a gloomy philosopher who is contagious with his darkness. Or like an advertising writer, from whom you might contract a curious blend of arrogance and insecurity.
Brilliant :)
Little worried about your apnea - did you consult a doctor? Is there anything to do apart from sleeping with that special mask? My mother has that sometimes and I read that's genetic, so I may have that someday too. Scary.
You can be ransacked, immobilized by guilt and sadness, tortured in a holding pattern of fear and laziness, frustrated by sleep apnea and magic bricks and all I’d ever do would be to sit here in fleabag oblivion snorting big fat lines of your words, the stuff you’re made of, whatever that is, and freak on the head rush and just be jonesing for more when I came down. It’s futile and I’m thinking of quitting you but I’d need to be checked into a blood transfusion and restraints and chemical straightjackets and a lifetime of delirium tremors. It’s just not worth it to me right now. But know this: I can quit you any time I want.
never too late.
sleep apnea sounds scary, my dear friend - i hope you are seeking some professional help.
ashmita - then there are people who don't quite like the tag. and i shall dare dream a little more. thank you.
mystique - its not really depressing. nor depression. it is just a state of mind for 15 minutes in the day. but thank you for your silence. you have a mature head on young shoulders.
devil - affection, even in the virtual world is rather scarce. thank you. the apnea thing is bothering me as well. i dont know where that crept in from.
missalister - :) your form is effortless. of course, you can quit me anytime. just like i have, see?
dharmabum - heh. thanks for the advice. i think i will. as far as the apnea is concerned, i think i need to do something now.
hello, i am back thanks to you and meraj.
1. don't use modern messaging, nothing beats pencil and paper when you want to say things your lips or txt msngr won't
2. for the apnoea, did you try sleeping on your left side?
3.and it's never too late to dream......
you must be kidding me about the mature head. Anyway, I've been in that state and sometimes the only thing you can offer is silence..anything else just kills it...
and yes, your writing is snortable.
I have 4 orange m&ms on my desk, four green ones, two yellow, one blue and one brown.
Which ones do you want?
Hurry and decide because I keep eating them...
smiling dolphin - welcome back. and yes, you were sorely missed. my dreams are on. currently the apnea has decided to let me be, if only for a little while.
mystique - i am sorry i am not able to provide you with your fix as often as you would like. currently looking for a house. the process is gruelling.
radiotooth - brown, blue, green. one of each. and m&ms are just what i need right now.
Okay, the m&m's are all gone.
There are now frozen cherries in the freezer. I like to have them in a small Japanese bowl.
Since they are frozen, it takes a while to eat them and then they are just as sweet as candy. I know you like cherry ice cream.
It's probably not as good, but pretty good anyway.
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