“If you are losing your soul and you know it,then you’ve still got a soul to lose”. - Charles Bukowski
If that is not the most bad-ass way of looking at the losses in your life, I don’t know what is. But then again, I have always been partial to Charles Bukowski. Probably because reading him, has finally given me the feeling that there are others out there.Others with this sick,rotting,whirling black hole that sometimes threatens to devour you, while there is breath inside and still manage to smile.
Some mornings I wake up, yearning to catch just the glimpse of the rising sun. For once I don’t want to enjoy it dying. And days like these are what scares me most. These feelings are rare now.And I will hold on to it even if for a few seconds, like a dying plant cling to the tiniest drop of sunlight in the dark. It often takes losing something, things you so foolishly took for granted earlier, to realize what it’s really worth. There is only a monotonous gray now . Every day is the same. The same old white on the walls, the same old sheets on my bed, the same old faces, the same old music. Music. When did I stop listening? And on most days, I’m left to sleep with an empty canvas choked with rotting blue and gray and a mind so loud no amount of darkness can seem to silence it.
I had everything I wanted. Friends, family, a beautiful home and love. It’s not that I don’t have these any more. It’s just that there is a lot more that I don’t want, than what I want.
“You don’t get what you want, you suffer. You get what you don’t want, you still suffer”. This is exactly what I’m trying to say. This is exactly what brought me here, on this journey.
Three years. Not a very long time. But time is relative. Sometimes,eighteen years can fly by and three years can feel a little too long. A little too suffocating and a little too much to bear really. Relativity. And having that black hole inside has not been a help either. I don’t know if it’s there to make things worse. I don’t really know. On days, I have stripped myself down, trying to figure out what it is.
I do not wish to say that nothing good has come out of this. In fact, it has taught me that life is often made of the very ordinary things around us. Nothing bold, nothing loud. It gave me the love of my life. Beautiful people who I know, would root for me day and night. Books that have sung me lullaby. Sunsets. Beer. New places. Hope. Most of all, it has taught me hope. The hope of a good morning. The hope of a better chapter. The hope of a beautiful coffee. The hope of hearing a breath or a beating heart at the other end of the phone. The hope of a good night’s sleep. Most of all, the hope of a peaceful ending.
(All pictures shot by me unless mentioned otherwise)
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