Musings with Myself.

A Story by write2kill

Started off as a poem. Got a bit of poetic feel to it. Then turned out to be a write-up. Just an attempt at writing something serious. Reflects my state of mind. My frustrations, my trysts with myself

Its only when you are away from something, for so long, that you tend to have an affinity which is multiplied manifold times, & keeps on lurking somewhere deep inside your core.

Is this the path I want to trudge or is it an another rambling road?

I'm delusional sometimes, sometimes overjoyous with the cravings. Sometimes I'm different shades of myself. Sometimes I'm an overachiever, yet sometimes I turn out to find myself in an oblivion. Almost at loggerheads with myself. But still I feel unsatiated. Unsatisfied with what and who I am. Entangled between who I had set out to be and what I would end up as. Is it too difficult to find that inner peace. To find yourself at a much calmer place within. To submit your will to an entity, who looked after you even before you were born. Is it such an impossible thing to do, such an unchartered territory. Like a madman's wish which is imbued with hopelessness.

What am I looking for. What dream am I chasing. A dream which may be hollow, but it still, is a dream. No matter how tender this dream is. Notwithstanding the shaky ground it stands on. But yes, it stands. It stands there for me to look upon it, to think and contemplate about it. To do something about it. This dream begs at me to give it some part of me. Like that beggar with a twinkle in his eyes, expecting you to give him something, even if it wouldn't be a fortune to change his life. And that everyday I dont bestow it with anything, I loose a part of it.

All my desires lay in front of me. I stare at them with a stark look. Almost in dismay. Something sweeps past my eyes. I look with a gaze filled with thousand questions. I find my eyes scanning everything, myself looking in every direction. I hope to find that entity which came between me and my dream-my muse. And then, as I search in vain, a hand as cold as ice, grabs me and takes me forward. I turn and see nothing but myself walking and discover that beneath my feet lay my desires. Battered and bruised. As I look back, I see my dreams crushed and crumpled, writhing and moaning. Each one of them cursing me. Suddenly the hand leaves me, and in front of me lays bare a sea of dreams, that I nurtured and nourished. Now lying silently like a dead carcass.

And I'm left to write an obituary of my dreams.....