Thoughts

Here I am.

Peculiarly, I am not where I imagined I would be. It is dark. I am stuck. I am wedged between two walls. My nose pressed against one, my back against the the other. I am standing on a platform of sorts, a pedestal. I am unable to move, because the plinth is microscopic, big enough to only support my two feet.

There are whooshing sounds, like a man frantically swiping the curtains open to see the sun.

On either side of the footstall, there is space. Oddly enough, neither the base nor the walls are supported by anything.

If I move, I fall.

Due to my uncomfortable restrictions, I am forced to think.

My first thought?

"Damn, I'm cramping up."

It didn't help. So, I began to think. Properly.

The first thought, that classified as a thought, that came to me was that I had wasted a lot of time. On petty things. On insignificant things. On material things. On superficial things. Time deserves to be spent on other things. Things that mattered. I will stop saying 'things'.

It hadn't occurred to me, that what did matter, came for free. I had everything that I should have wished for. I had spotted the tiny errors without seeing how beautiful the actual painting was. I replaced what I didn't have, with what I could get; not knowing that it could never be substituted.

Let me put it in the form of an example. A simple one. I wanted water. I drank mud.

The thing that bothered me most was, I did not know what I wanted.

Now I do. They are things that are invisible, but can be seen. They emit a glowing light. You know what it is when you have them.

Love. Respect. Family. Peace. Hope. Joy. Religion.

I have named a few, but there are many, many more. I am not in a position to list. I am a human sandwich.

Thought number two: What was I doing here?

Was I really anywhere? I was probably dreaming a silly old dream, lying in my bed, oblivious to what was happening around me. Did I really need to be anywhere? After all, I only had a few things left to hope for. My life was a concotion of good and bad. "Just like everyone else's", I said to myself. But I knew that I wasliving for something, a few things, maybe.

The thought that followed: Where did I want to be?

The immediate reply. It came without a second's hesitation. "Out of here".

However, I knew that was not where I wanted to be. I wanted to be somewhere, where I knew my presence would be felt. And I knew there was only one road that I had, that would take me there.

Music.

As soon as I thought that, a parallel road was elucidated. It was there all along. Righteousness.

It dawned upon me. And as it did, the sun in the place I was in also ascended.

There was no success without good.

Thought number four: I know what I want to be. I know where I want to be.

I want to give kindness. I want to show everyone the right path. I want to make the world a better place. I want this love to go on forever. I want to be on stage, and spread the right message through music. I want to teach people.

But first, I would have to learn.

And then, the walls fell. I could move. A road was illuminated, it was tempting. But I did not take it.

I fell.

I knew I made the right decision.

I knew I made the right decision, because, the next day, I awoke in my bed.

I got on my feet, and set out to change the world.

Look at me.

"She stood apart from moral interests, yet close beside them, like a ghost that revisits the familiar fireside and can no longer make itself seen or felt, no more smile with the household joy, nor mourn with the kindred sorrow; or, should it succeed in manifesting its forbidden sympathy, awakening only terror and horrible repugnance."

There are times when I feel like a ghost.

I don't entirely know, but a little part somewhere in my soul, or mind, pokes me with that dreaded sense of invisibility. Or maybe it is an embedded part of reality, maybe I really am invisible; invisible to someone.

How do I know if I can be seen? What if all I'm hearing, hearing you speak, seeing you speak, what if that's all just a mere art of illusion, what if all I'm seeing is actually what I'm imagining, not really existing at all?

What if I wish to be seen. What if you can't see me? What if I'm really a ghost, an old memory, faded out of the material world, now only a lingering spirit, seeing only tantalizing memories, which are decepting mirages of the truth? What if the truth is really a bland cocktail of matters that I don't know of? What if those matters don't concern me at all? Am I really gone? Or am I still here, as tangible as you?

Or has tangibility died too?

Can you really see me? Do you even know who I am? Am I just a ghost?

Ghosts scare people. Do I scare you? Do you get provoked by my sudden interference, my sudden confessions, my unrealistic statements? Do I make you run away? Am I just a disappearing act, coming and going when I please, vanishing leaving you baffled, baffled and confused, confused, dazed and mystified?

Am I really there?

Can you really hear me? Can you read what I'm writing? Or is it all futile, am I imagining you replying? Do I really know what you're really saying? Or is it just a dream playing in my head?

Do you know what I feel? Do I feel at all? Is there really me? Or am I some disembodied spirit, just watching you, wishing, and waiting?

The Untitled Song

There are times when words don't mean anything except what they look like, just little strings of black twisted into shapes, illegible to the heart because it is not the language it speaks. There are times when all the heart longs for is a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes to hold on to what it really can understand. But even then, even in one of the few times it can long for something to hope for, a bitter, burning wave, just engulfs it in denial. Nothing is for free. No love, no hope, no dream comes without a cost of pain. It is then that the heart screams in agony, but no-one can hear it. It is not the language they speak.

That's when the heart longs to cry, but all that's left in the shallow pool of reality is dry, dry skin. When you open your mouth to speak, your speech is silence. No-one understands that, except the heart you are longing for. Again, that never comes without a price, and more often than not, it doesn't come at all.

----

I wish she would look for me the way I look for her. I wish she would smile when she happen to see me, the way I smile when I see her. Except the smile isn't really a smile at all. It's an illusion that pain creates.

----

The heart is a very vital organ of the body.

When the heart longs for something, and holds it so dearly, but doesn't get it, it begins to experience pain. Therefore, it is natural, that the mind and soul get affected by the pain the heart feels. There is no way the heart can get rid of that pain, no-one understands what it is trying to say. No-one except for what it longs for.

And nothing comes without a price. More often than not, it doesn't come at all.

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I wish she would search for love songs, the way I search for love songs. I wish she would think of me at night, the way I cry myself to sleep thinking of her.

----

While the heart screams in pain, at the irony of perfection, that nothing perfect could ever be gained, no-one can hear it, because no-one can understand what it is saying. However much it screams, it shouts, crying to be heard, to be understood, no-one ever listens. So it sings a silent song, its song the only true melody in the world. What a shame, that no-one can hear it, to be inspired.

----

I wish she would miss me the way I miss her, every second I don't speak to her. I wish she would feel jealous every time someone called me the way I do when it happens to her. I wish she would want to be with me when others are, the way I do. I wish she would see my face behind every window, behind every door, the way I see hers.

----

I wish her heart would sing the same untitled song mine would, so that finally, it would know that someone can understand it. The sense of relief that would calm it, to let it know someone was listening to its screams, its beckonings that no-one would listen to. I wish she would notice me the way I notice her. I wish she would look in the crowd for me, the way I look for her. I wish she would feel the way I feel for her.

I wish she would love me the way I love her.

But nothing comes without a price. More often than not, it doesn't come at all.