Everyone who loves to sit silently, alone, aloof from the chaotic world outside his window must be contemplating on either their past or future. I too often go into those corridors of the past where some doors are still closed with "Do not enter" written all over it and some chambers do not have doors at all.
Past is what we always wish to change: the mistakes we made, the distance we created, the words we said, and words that left unsaid. In the end, only deafening silence remains, everything else evaporates in the thin air.
Sometimes the shadow of the past creeps in from a crack when I am least expecting it. it brings joy sometimes but mostly destruction. Then I can not be saved and perhaps I don't want to be saved at all. After the brief moment of destruction has passed, I feel calmness like a dead man feels his pulse, then I am like a ghost whose existence even I deny.
People ask me to move on but they don't see that my past won't move on with me. It sits silently on my window, on my closet, or on my writing desk and does nothing and I keep anticipating my doom which perpetuates itself. This waiting kills me a little at a time but doesn't kill me at once. Some part in my past refuses to die and is still hoping for something different and nothing satisfies it, no happiness hushes it.
I think I'm no longer fit for any human relationship. if anybody involves with me then the misery is assured.
No comments:
Post a Comment