She was sitting on the swing in her penthouse porch. Her habitual rolling of her curls through her fingers had not changed. The evening chirps and the commotion outside hardly came to her notice. She was lost in her own thoughts, in the web of contradictions of her very own life. The constant inner dilemma inside was depressing her to no ends. She knew she was slipping into the concaved world where she would soon be lost; never to find herself. She opened her closed fists and gazed on the Arabic design on her palms and her hands. She saw those neatly outlined flowers and motifs in auburns. She smiled. She smirked. She laughed. She was maniacally guffawing. It stopped after a while when she had enough of those suppressions of her emotions. She sat there; silent, without any expressions. She subdued the confusion of emotions within. Now she wanted to cry, cry out loud and she did, but that too did not suffice to make her feel fine. She herself did not know what was making her go through these dragon ride emotions. She had perhaps reached a state where she could not distinguish between so called being “happy” or “sad”. She had been tired of composing picture perfect fake smiles and affected behaviors. At times, she got so blank that there was a vacuum in her mind. Nothing could fill it up; absolutely nothing! There was no one to understand her stature because she found people very different to her. They comfortably lived in a world doing things so naturally that she strived to pretend. She was at sea. She kept swinging; gazing on to the sky aimlessly. Then suddenly she ran to the kitchen and searched for a knife at the impulsive thought to cut her nerves. The knife was right in her hands. She stood still and stared at her own nerves. She started laughing again; feeling pity on herself. She thought that this act too was being pretentious and was influenced from seeing movies. She hated to be predictable. And perhaps she thought it was not that she did not want to live. She very much wanted to live but live to the fullest, fulfilling her all weirdest fantasies that were scribbled in her diary. She wanted to talk to herself but she thought she suffered from aphasia. Though she did not have any physical injury; she suffered from mental illness; an illness which no one could cure except her. She wanted to live in some unknown, unseen, misty, hazy, foggy thoughts; thoughts that did neither have a start nor an end, thoughts that would come and go, thoughts that would make her feel free to think about anything that she wanted. Thoughts that had no connection and if laid on paper would form a haphazard design making no sense to anyone who sees it, except her. She somehow made sense of her nonsensical thoughts too and she loved doing it all the time.
She was staring at her curls again. She thought she too was entangled in the curls of life. A life where she would soon have to learn some big words of responsibilities, deference, obedience and what not…its not that she did not have these things in her but some oblivious facts of forced human life always scared her. Nothing was dearer to her than her freedom and from what she had seen in her twenty-five years of life, she sure had a phobia against losing it. It would actually make her go numb. She knew she was a misogamist- having hatred against marriage. She had never viewed matrimony as a heavenly thing to happen to two blissful souls. She felt marriage were synonyms to suppression, suffering and sorrows. Somehow these things were instilled engraved in her mind right from childhood. The fact that love too would be artificially generated using the biotechnology games of arrange marriage had scarred her mind. But then again she thought may be one would grow affectionate towards a person one stays with but she knew she would never really truly love the person in that forceful manner. Now she was frustrated of her own brains that could never stop thinking. She gazed the sky again. She so wished she could fly and roam and meander in this cosmos till her last breath!
It was the last evening she spent with herself coz the next day was going to be the grand day of her marriage!
The 4-Hour Workweek – Book 32 Review
5 years ago
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