Tomorrow

Life is absolutely turning horrible as each second passes away in anticipation. I wonder what people awaiting death think of, but I can imagine. Their whole life would be flashing in front of their eyes, all their mistakes and all those nitty gritty moments that they thoroughly enjoyed.

I wonder what the difference between me and those people is. I’m thinking about all the things I have done; all the mistakes I’ve made…and regret. But yes, there is a difference. I can also think of a future in a dual beam. One of these beams where my mind naturally inclines toward is the compelling rage of serenity followed by a life of chaos, of uncertainty and absolute dejection. The other is, however, rosy. Despite it’s good nature, there is something wrong with it, I feel. I dream of all those things that my life has dreamt of achieving in the last few months. I can vicariously transport myself into the life of another – a person walking down on a road leading to the academic block at SSE. The person who later, after attending an intriguing Calculus class, goes on and takes a dive at the cappuccino bar at Gloria Jeans. I wonder if one day, that person would be me.

The problem with thinking all of the ‘good stuff’ is that it doesn’t put a smile on my face. It fails to ignite me. It fails to latch me onto the banter of a glorious upcoming. Instead, it makes me cry. It kills every time I think about it. Perhaps, it’s not a dream people aspire towards because they have greater goals. But one thing I have ended up realising from all this traumatic experience is that a dream, no matter how small or big, is still a ‘dream’ and there is a lucid impossibility factor that makes it what it is – a ‘dream’.

However, no matter how I think, it will be insignificant tomorrow. Either I am going to bask in some form of self-constructed and returned glory, or it will be the final nail in the coffin of shame. Otherwise, it will be a world on fire. Where my eyes would lose the capacity to discern. Where the people around me will no longer matter. Where everything will be lost. What a strange thing this is – you see, now I know why JK Rowling incepted a creature called the ‘Dementor’, the ‘happiness absorber’, the creature that sucks everything good out from you. I feel that these conditions are no different.

I have to brace what is coming for me. And I feel like I have all the time to do that, but I won’t like to think this way at all. I want to get this over with; I want to live; I want to live without any kind of fear of the future. Sadly, fear doesn’t always come with your permission. It’s something I’ve grown to accept as integral – a beast that whips me across a narrow tunnel, beating me to death, but knowing that with every time he hits, I grow stronger.

Tomorrow approaches, my friends. You can live your life the way you live it right now or you can change it. I envy all of you at this moment, because I cannot change anything now.

Feelings

There are times when your life goes up on a high pace. When things happen so fast that you have hardly any time to think on them, but whatever you think of them, it’s just too hard to let it go away. But you have to. I wish I had the words to document all of those things, but ‘that inner reservoir of creativity’ I was proud of once, is finally drying up.
But I’m not too worried.
May be everything that is happening to me in these times don’t deserve words. May be it’s not feasible to translate them onto a virtual paper. And that’s the irony of it all. When you want to share your feelings with someone, with readers like you who will judge but then not pester, with the people I care about the most who don’t care back for me as much as I do for them – all of this isolates the inner me, eventually.
I’m not going to write about them, and that’s it. I know, the purpose of reading such a post evaporates but then again, it’s not for you that I write; it’s for me.
I feel grief and despair trapped inside of me. It’s poisoning and it’s burning me down like a merciless fire and venom. Sometimes, when you give someone your trust and love, you expect them to return it with the same. Sometimes, they do and then they stop doing it. Unfortunately, I cannot climb myself on the ladder and move on; it’s one of those moments when you know you have no other way but to just move on, but you don’t. Because you care. Because you can’t live without sharing your trust and love around.
I have a funny way of thinking this, too. But in this brief moment of humour, it still leaves a sting. When someone hurts you, they’re like a sandpaper. You end up getting polished and they end up becoming useless. However, when you rub on and on, your polish fades and bruises appear, and trust me, they hurt more than anything else.
I am happy that If I failed to write my feelings down as they came, I wrote up on a summary of why I felt I couldn’t do it. You see, feelings are so distinctive and unique, so pure and commanding that most of the times you’re at the mercy of their  whims. I hope with all the gloom following me at this moment just simply goes away. If not replaced by happiness, then at least by something but sadness and uncertainty.
I wrote this post listening to Les Miserables music. Although this post does not carry any kind of connection to the music or the movie, I felt that when you feel something, augmentation factors help. That’s how I convinced myself into writing this up.
And ending this post up with a quote I found on the internet seems appropriate: “Breathe, let go and remind yourself that this very moment you have is with you for sure.”