Nothingness
I don’t know. I know nothing. Where to start? Where to end? It’s exactly how I never wanted it to be, ‘monotonous’. Since the past year we have been aching to go out, wander and make mistakes. I’ve been able to do one. Now the world is looking like the world again. With people out on the roads and everywhere, it has become tough again to find a silent spot. Emotions have taken the back seat in this world of material presence and social validation.
I sit beside my favorite book that I’ve not even touched since I bought it. It stares me as I stare it back while it’s on the floor, wrapped in dust from the bygone months. I’ve grown a bond with the achievements that I could never achieve and I’ve arranged them neatly in my mental museum of unfulfilled desires. Surprisingly, the museum also holds up an exhibition of people. It’s named “Could have been”. Unsurprisingly, the exhibition is crowded. The many memories associated with them, about those chance encounters that I couldn’t convert into something, about an awkward pleasantry scenario(thanks to my stammering) and the most popular exhibit, the lack of guts to confront. The museum is the only place where I can go naked about my thoughts because the nude mirror is already there, standing tall. The cries echo in the massive dome housing the museum that very much houses my grief. I don’t like it here but I still make sure to visit it as my incomplete self has something to feel familiar and nostalgic about, even if it hates it, even if it’s painful.
The daily scenario is full of procrastination, from sun up to sun down. I don’t remember how many days ago I sat down to write something. Nothing interests me or amuses me. I’ve forgotten to think. No thoughts, no feelings, just memories. Light heartedly I thought one day that the monotony of life shall overpower me so much that my mind will erase the line between real memories and fascinations, and I guess that is happening now. Half a page done and nothing, still nothing but reflections of old thoughts bombarding my mind, making me weep and making me one with my nothingness.
