I died. When I opened my eyes, I still had all my senses. But I was floating in space. There was just darkness. Far away, I could see the earth and its light. But I was untethered and floating away. Slowly, there was nothing left around me but darkness. I was floating, untethered towards the edge of the universe that never existed. Now I was losing my memory and all I could remember was this darkness. Was I falling or floating?
She is so honest about her flaws. Unashamed and almost proud of all the selfishness, rudeness, privilege and self entitlement. This gives me comfort. It is ok to accept yourself and showcase what you are - warts and all. People may reject you or accept you. It doesn’t matter. As long as you are able to accept yourself! Love yourself with all the silly hardships you think you went through!
Like a molten lava it flows Grief grows
Deep hidden beneath All the performances Lies quietly another sense Like a molten lava it flows Grief grows
It stays with me day or night Like a sense of smell or a touch Blissfully unaware of its presence, but Like a molten lava it flows Grief grows
Nor better or for worse I have acquired another sense The night is dark and quiet Like a molten lava it flows Grief grows
All I could think was to save her. By any means necessary. She was in pain. Her eyes were sad and looking at me longingly. She needed me to hold her hands, kiss her face, her cheeks, her hair, her eyes. She needed my voice telling her how much I love her. She needed a hug. But I could only see a burning bridge. I had to get to the other side with her. I had to put out the fire.
Plan - I needed a plan. I will work out the cause of her illness and will methodically search to find the cure. To make her feel better. I hated feeling helpless. I had a big ego those days. I believed that I could find a cure for cancer if I paid attention and worked hard for it. It was as simple as that. I just have to work a bit harder and it would get better.
She closed those beautiful green eyes. I was shaken up. The plan went out of the window. I could feel my own pain under the skin of my fingertips. I kissed her forehead. I kept saying how much I loved her. I whispered in calm sweet voice holding back my tears.
After three long drawn out breaths, all few seconds apart, she was gone. I was left with my personal sense of failure. I was supposed to be her hero. How magnanimously the hero had failed. How the mighty had fallen.
The traffic was so loud, piercing horns and people talking loudly over each other. Constant flow of information and chatter. It reminded me of the continuity of the waves hitting the shore over and over again from dawn till the eternity. My thoughts were quiet. I always found peace when I was in a crowded place. That was my time not to listen to the loud voices in my head. Constantly running wild with thoughts and exhausting each and every possibility of each and every desire or fear. It was exhausting being alone with them. I much preferred this setting. I could be at peace. I was silent inside. There was too much going outside for me to focus on. All aspects of me were engaged and trying to understand the noise outside and beyond. When they were all busy navigating this world full of noise. I was leaning back on my chair, closing my eyes with a smile on my face, tenderly accepting the struggles of my thoughts but like an exhausted mother, resting for as short a time I could find between the manic rush. This was bliss. Noise was my peace.
I was rushing towards the exit when I saw her. She stuck out because she was out of place. Head to toe clad in some garments which looked tattered and torn. Shoes in her hands. Mascara running and hair drenched in rain water. Was it a wild night out that did it to her? The sea of people were flooding in and out of the modern tube lit by contemporary art and collage work. There were hues of red, yellow and blue. The marble floor was cleaned by the soles of dirty shoes and I could see her depressing shadow reflecting back. It was a split second. I didn’t stop. I walked on as all the others. But the image got stuck. It never left me since. There is a vague memory of a busker singing an upbeat song at the bottom of the escalators and I thought how odd the tune was. Like a badly edited movie compared to the tramp lady. She was not young or old. She was at that non-descript age. What was her story? The inquisitive in me still think about it when I pass through a ridiculously lit underground station.
If I could be with you Right this very moment I would hug you I’ll gather all your worries, anxieties and fear And put them on a ship I’ll sail it away for you I’ll set it alight for you If only today I could hold you Let you look deep into my soul Let you believe when I tell you I’ll be there for you When you have gone through the dessert of this despair When you have climbed the mountain of this madness When you have swan the sea of this isolation I’ll be standing by the shore Smiling beaming with my open arms I’ll hug you So tightly I’ll hug you I’ll never let you go If only I could be there with you Right this very moment Right this instant I’ll let you see that I am you Just some years away I am you This moment will pass And you’ll become me Just in a few years If only I could let you see you Right this very moment Can you see me now Can you feel me now Please don’t despair Let it all disappear Let this dust settle And let me see you clearly I have been there with you Through every step of the way I have been there for you
