Stoned, is what i am at this moment. I am up there flying so high from where the fall would take me forever to return. . . . Why bother to care where I belong when I fall, I am destined to hit the surface hard. . . . The surface would determine the intensity of pain; I have to go through at the time of impact. I just wish I have the right to make a choice of the surface to hit when I reach the ground.
I am just playing the fool with my mind. I know. I am. Can I really choose to do what the mind wants to do? Can I for once be true to myself . . . .? Can I leave the reality behind and make myself comfortable during the fall. . . . Can the fantasy last forever? Will the reality bite as hard as I imagine it to?
I don’t know – i am just learning a few things about myself in the last couple of days. I am beginning to know few truths about myself I had never realised before. I am two and one is alive and breathing while the other helps one breath and be alive. I am now in state of chaos to find the right proportion of the two to be myself.
Why can’t I walk up to the terrace to spend a li’l time under the moon? We saw the moon when we took the flight high above – it was full and oozing light. Few thoughts of the night to be captured – Can we speak our emotions through our actions. Actions of what one is capable off.
My actions too can be mistaken even while I am falling. My intentions are interpreted in the perception of the other, what you meant has lost its importance and what is perceived gains momentum. This is the moment when the fall becomes bumpy and you realise you should’ve just let yourself down by not making those actions. . . .
I will put myself to sleep with some light music playing in my ears. I hope music overhauls the screams of the fear of pain one has in the mind when you hit the surface. I am yet to make the choice of the surface. I will fall without listening to my mind. I will sleep without doing that last thing that came to my mind. I don’t deserve to do it, though I hate this feeling of being undeserving. Emptiness takes over, darkness completes the picture for when I return it is all over for – forever is . . . .