There is an empty blue seat on the bus. You can always find them – the empty seats, they swim in abundance in front of your eyes when you have nowhere to go, no hurry, no person to reach. But to find them as you rush in and push past the people you don’t know holding the warmest hand in this world is a miracle I guess.
But today is not the day for a miracle. At least no old miracles are to arrive. The buses they rush past as if they have never known me, to be fair I don’t remember the buses like I remember people; to be fair roads are meant for the rush. But the cars don’t mean you, the slow bicycles don’t mean you; the buses that keep arriving, the last seat always empty- to be honest, even they don’t mean you. You are just dragged as an additional part as an extension to a feeling that once made me whole.
You are added as an afterthought. I only look for you in this world when I have no place to go, no one to blame, when no other reason comes to my mind for the reason my heart has grown cold, for my eyes seeking rain, when I see people sit back and look out from the window that once framed us as one. Without feelings, without missing anything, I think of you only to fill that space.
The “sweet escape” is now more expensive and better hidden in a packaging devoid of bubble wrap and crumpled newspaper (how does that even work?) I can no longer remember why it caught my eyes. But such things normally do, so I don’t question it much. “Such things” almost always refers to things that I will always see and be drawn to, but never get near. And I am not talking about the bare minimum semblance of love, or the friend who must eat food without me to feel accepted in this world. Now that is out of the way, we can all imagine with utmost accuracy and pity everything that is definitely on this list of mine. Things I know the price of because my pockets are empty. The kind of empty a drop of dew feels in front of a desert(even the smallest one). This is not even a smallness fueled by insecurity or class consciousness. This is the lens of pure objectivity at work, which I sort of stupidly relied on to cure me, stop me from showering my attention to something that challenges my place in world in the wake of release of a random new replaceable product in market. which is sort of weird because I do not know the price of the meal I eat or the clothes I wear – I feel them. So I know better. I really do. But the billboards that fly over the cities -abducting cows, and UFOs, and fixed deposits, and basic sanity- make me want to dial the number to someone, anyone who can get me a card that, I am told, can get me every luxury I do not yet deserve. To my credit, I never dialed that number simply because wanting something that was designed to be wanted seemed stupid, poking a hole into the balloon of my existence for it seemed stupid. In the list of more stupid things I can now “not want” are grand expectations of a basic acceptable life, minimum respect, of love, of family, of wanting a fair chance at a dream, of food that tastes like food, and air that doesn’t clog my lungs. I am told that at a price one can have them all but to the one who is barely afloat it sure is a stupid thing to want.
It is not the night that brings in the monsters. They are just creatures, just nature- that exist outside the door that you are guarding.
They come in because this world is theirs as well. They come in because they can, just like how you can go out. This is the fair deal you don’t want to exist.
At least they do not look for you, they do not mark your picture and throw darts at it. I love them for that, for the lack of vicious premeditation, the lack of fun in their delivery of hurt.
The river of pills that flows into my window has nothing to do with them. The hurt that keeps you awake, the nails that slowly make marks on the surface of your eyes
this ruined place, this brokenness are always the gifts of the ones who look like us. This has nothing to do with the monsters. This has nothing to do with nights.
But has knowing such things ever helped. The days are just as frightful as nights. Now anything that looks like me, and everything that doesn’t – they are possible ends of me.
Now I must either run away from everything or must end up loving them all, forgiving them all – this broken temple of knowledge, this fake shallow sacred unions, these glorious wretched feelings that won’t let me remain me. How far should I run. How foolishly should I love. How do I decide.
When I have gathered enough courage the only piece of metal in me that can still cause harm are only the frustrations I have at my own cowardice. What do I have to lose today, that I couldn’t lose yesterday when I was busy resenting you. After seeing and accepting the wrong that you are, after uncovering every wound, every decaying part of me that I didn’t want to face, after deciding on an end that would still be fair and gentle to your heart, why do I only hold you tighter? Why do I make up lies that only make it easier to make up more lies, make up a world where my hate is just a delusion, where you are the only one worth saving, worth love, worth my misery. And even in that world, why does our love won’t feel like love? Why don’t you feel like mine? Why does my heart feel abandoned when I have chosen to walk into your hands even after knowing my fate.
I regret to tell you this that the blue sky that you died for is not longer blue. It is painting its face with remains of our greed, with the colors of our wars. But it is still sort of fair. It is trying hard not to choose sides, not to become the flags that unites only those whose favorite words are ‘future’, ‘safety’,’money’, ‘greatness’, while they clutch in their hands the fate of people they don’t identify with- ‘burden’ they call them. ‘Fear’ is another favorite word of theirs. They don’t speak much of it, but it is most useful or at least that’s what I have heard from the ones we are no longer allowed to call out or even mock. I have lost every bit of my passive aggressiveness. Life has become more bearable now that my skin is not broken for making too much noise, now that we have learnt to hold each other’s tongue so that we may not lose more friends than we already have. I regret to tell you that your dreams will remains dreams and you might be one of the last to know how dreams felt in your eyes, how tomorrow used to change by effort.
i try to sleep, to forget the pain near my spine, to forget all the hours in front of me that i have no use of. i look at my palm from near and from as far as my hands can extend. i notice how my hands have changed. do i like it better now? i wonder if it possible to like anything about my body now. i remember once deciding not to at least hate this skin that has use for everyone but not to me. i remember saying “as long as it makes you happy” at the same time thinking “i don’t think you care for my happiness”. i stop myself from finding more things that make me confused or miserable. i unlock my phone. it’s 8 already- more and more notifications, …5GB extra..Alert:You have spent… …has added a new post…added a new story airplane mode, the notifications continue to pile up in my head- all the words that i will never get to see that i always expected even when i knew i shouldn’t, it has been long……sorry, for making you feel alone… today i saw something and was reminded of you. even though we are not together, it is not your fault… thank you for being there for me……it must have been tough… don’t hurt yourself i feel smaller knowing that even the words i want are only words of consolation, just confirmation that i am not the worst. i look at my hands again and wonder if my hatred for myself colors my skin. is that how everyone gets know that i don’t have the courage to ask for fair, for loyalty, for answers? is that how i look? someone who doesn’t have the voice to ask anything anymore.
I cannot ask you why your mind is so twisted. I cannot ask why you are not fair. Maybe your situation didn’t allow you to be ideal and that’s why you don’t care. So I will stop now. I will stop asking questions that you need not answer because there is a lot more to us, a lot that we have suffered that we can neither speak of, nor expect to be understood. So you can continue to fight with your darkness and I will continue fighting mine. And if we find each other on opposite sides lets forgive each other for being who we are.