Visitors

A few dreams torn asunder, a few hearts rent, and here is where they all come to, furnishing explanations, false ones.  This, they are aware of, and they hope against all hope that they find that one answer that will put to rest all of their disconcerting questions. I am one among them that I can assure you. Words are beautiful but they do not express pristine thought. Backspace buttons and the desire to intrigue lead to the impulsive contortion of facts and feelings.

But we have no choice, do we? This is the only medium of communication we have with people who can relate to us and as such its shortcomings must first be forgiven. 

Time is not the best healer, silence is. Not talking about something will only make your mind want to dwell on it more but the mind shows a remarkably higher level of discretion than you do. It recognises the futility of mulling over things that fail to find any expression, verbal or literal.

I learnt this the other day. Actually, it worked the other way around. A quick allusion to a thing I’d apparently discarded from memory came thundering back into my mind, flaring and fuming, at the apathetic treatment I’d meted out to it. 

To call it a ‘thing’ would be appallingly demeaning.  Yes, it was a person, a person who’d walked out (or rather had been shown the door) of my mind years ago.  

Grotesque pictures of long, winding staircases and purple skies found themselves being fabricated almost immediately. Those wry smiles resumed their haunting presence. My defenses crumbled, crumbled against her seemingly endless tirade. I presume you’d guessed that the person in question was of the opposite sex.  

Near cruel insensitivity is in principle, frightfully wrong but is not something that deserves exacting repercussions. It is one of many ways of reflecting we are humans, imperfect and normal ones at that.  To reason out with a figment of one’s imagination is far more an uphill task that confronting a real entity. This is why she won, and this is why she will keep winning, every time she chooses to flood me with overwhelming, heady thoughts. Being helpless is being blissful, you are not bound to have the answers you should be having and believe me, the answers will only enervate you by engaging you to think about how convoluted they are. She may demand these answers and I’m not questioning her right to them but as I spoke of earlier, I am helpless and she will have to wait, wait eternally, and wait till she becomes helpless enough to not want them.

I will be silent now, now more than ever before. 

PS: ‘What Hurts the Most’ played while I typed this. I felt I owed it a mention as I drew some amount of inspiration from its lyrics which are, truly wonderful.