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The Story of Us
In this world
there exist characters called
You
and
I.
My
and
your
world
are
unconnected
and
apart
I live in a world so different from yours
My world is strange to you, it means being on myself, by myself.I live in a reality called "Misunderstood" which is connected with negative and dark adjectives.Adjectives that peope dont understand,like a blackhole.A blackhole where everything shrinks into nothingness.Just empty darkness.NObody ever ventured in my blackhole as nobody understand and knows whats inside.People fear the unknown as the deemed it normal.Normality which affects only you and your kin,leaving and separating me as not of your kind.Abnormal because my source of happiness is astrayed from yours.I live in the murky waters of the underworld,nobody knows what's inside.Unl;ess one will delve and dive to know.Living in my reality is hard for I have to remain kicking so that I'll float.Or else I'll sink.Few have survived who dared to know what's underneath, most of them have drowned or sunk.They were not prepared that my world is a constannt struggle.Always looking for a bouy to cling on but bouys are rare.There are times when I get tired of paddling, a time when I am to weak to hang-on to my life.Once I felt the weakening of my legs, the undercurrent is gradually pulling me down.If i let go I'll sink if I strugle I'll float.But for how long?The constant ordeal and the threat of sinking is numbing my sernse.The monotony is blurring my system.
If there are those who failed, there are also few who have made it.Made it and survived to be called Victors.Will I win?
You World
a
Paradox
an
Irony
You live in a world less fraught with complexities.So oppose to mine.Your world is a gurgling brook that if you throw stones it will bounce back at you.No vast and fathomless ocean of drak waters.You have one river of felicity and melancholy.So nice and orderly is you world, no zigzag paths and jagged edges for you to trod on.You are brought up in a very exact manner, that you forgot to grow sinews and muscles.Instead you were supplied with crutches,that if you got lost in my world you are rendered helpless,because here there are no directions for you to take.You are alone and on your own pluck.In your world there is the totality of light while mine a totality of darkness and an occasinal eclipse of light.So different.
The great
difference
is
the only
likeness
that
we have.
On the Canvass:Paragon and Delusion
As a child I used to draw ink form the same well that others used to paint their world.From that well the colors of my world are as vibrant and lively as I could ever want.I paint my own life ,I was just a dot then .Not knowing what to do or believe.I believe in Father Christmas and angels and even Pinocchio exist out there.
I use the same brush to draw the lines of my senses and values.The same strokes that I use to curve my world.The lines and strokes were strong and seemingly impossible to break.My values and faith then offered an unshakeable foundation.
An innocent child once I had been,I dared to paint my world perfect.There are no jagged edges or sharp edges which could cut my flesh.I draw no pointless spirals, no narrowing roads.Everything is in such a wonderful bliss.Awaiting the day to unfoldnever failing to see beauty.Beauty that colors my world,the smile on my mom's face and the flowers in the garden.Niceties that is always on the canvas.My canvas a space, they filled with glowing color and every tint that pulse with life.Tints and shades they were ,smile they paint, glee in my bosom they throb,happy i was.My canvass holds my painting.A paragon , a masterpiece,my painting , my once vibrant life.
Then one day a dark cloud came to wash away everything that i worked for.Maybe it was my fault to leave my painting to dry on the sun, but instead the rain showered on it.Drenching the colors and letting them all gash down like blood.Blood that drains the body lifeless.The colors gone,my soul gone.My canvass empty and stark.I tried several times to paint it the same way as I did once, and several times I failed.And still keep on trying only to notice that the colors are not that vibrant anymore.Instead it is gray and dull.the lines arent that perfect anymore.Anymore that i should deserve and havent got.Lines, endless dots and spirals they are now.My painting which was once a paragon now a delusion.
Lie Life
The world is a lump of dirt that is rolled in the saccharine sweetness of lies.Men like the globe on its feet is a perfect alabaster statue but filth and worms thrives beneath the corrupted interior.Lies ,hypocrisy,pretentions are the only truth in this fake world.So deep are the cesspool of lies where men are wallowing that they developed hidden gills and retractable fins for existence.Pretentions that are already a part of man's skin.People tend to be together even if animosity is mutual because of mutual want.Like a leech salivating for blood.They tear their faces for their knock-out smile as if I dont know that it is all a sham.It is useless to carry on with this charade, charade that we call "life".Little Prince once said "A thing that is invisible to the eye is essential"well certainly lies belong to that.Lies that is abstract therefore masked with a perfect surface.Essential it is indeed for if will not lie man would probably be dead by now.Yes it is indispensable for well being and existence.So great is the ice castle of lies that man built.High and stupendous ,only on the surface.Blocks after blocks ofpretentions that if you make one false move it will crumble and fall.Exposing all the rot , fallacy mand the real ugly face behind.
Man lives to lie and lies to live.The nub of what we call life.. |
