Last winter, the floor was scattered with bits of my mind. Thrown astray. Passersby from the corridor would peek in and declare my insanity. In affectionate whispers.

But there is this thing about my obsessions. They have a mind of their own. Which wouldn't rest until it pushes me off the edge of the cliff I am always standing on. Gazing into infinite depths. So to stay afloat, someone suggested I stop writing. I did.

My floor was scattered with tubes of gum, paper flowers, books, with real flowers pressed between bookmarked pages, lace, scissors, confetti, pearls. Velvet. Anything that could be written on was hidden. And my inkless existence continued to persist for weeks. As I sat by the dim bed light, in limbo. And created, for the first time something outside the world of the writ and read.

Something that fingers could feel. Something that eyes could understand, appreciate, without having to delve deep into. I stayed afloat. And I got over. Whoever he was that I was trying to forget.

But it's winter again. And this time, there is someone else. It's a vicious cycle, unending chain, cuffing my wrists. How when a man breaks my heart, I cannot just take the pain alone and look for something else to hold on to. Some meaningless excuse. To carry me away. To save me, keep me afloat.

That time it was confetti. Sometimes that meaningless excuse is another man. As distant, as ruthless, as his precursor. Only that he doesn't know. And that, I am yet to know.

But life has this fucking amazing sense of time, I tell you. When A breaks your heart, you move on to B. When B repeats history, A resurfaces, somehow, out of the blue and green. Vicious, I'd told you.

If, A doesn't come back, a certain limbo follows. Just like this one. With bits scattered on the floor. An unending night of thoughts, regret, sorrow. Trying to create something that the fingers can feel. And the heart can use to heal.

Yet, I await that affectionate whisper, telling me that my limbo will end in insanity, by morning. 


Surya Prakash V said...


Krish said...

Life has an amazing sense of time, true. 6 months back the same blog could have sucked my heart out and squashed it. Now, I can marvel at it with a comprehending smile. Reminds me of the limbo they refer to in Inception - someone stuck in a memory, in a hazy, illogical and sluggish dream.