August 20, 2002

Morass

Every ten steps I take, I carry the weight of the ten that I took before and after a lifetime of trudging through these marshlands my legs cannot take the strain anymore, my knees are weakening, I cannot go much further ahead. I need to stop. Period.

Standing where I am right now, I cannot really make out between marsh and the ground. I am waist deep in mud and sinking further. It is hard to make out now who did who wrong, what went wrong and even why is it wrong. Just one disaster follows another and in the trail of destruction left behind bits of myself too lies shattered, now what does it matter whether it was you who went wrong or was it me.

Sometimes I feel it must be language. I am telling you something, you are reading something else. Other times I feel I must be frozen in time that everyone expects me to forget and change and I just cannot. Sometimes everything comes back at you in droves, people, time, place and everything else overlapping each other like a stampeding herd.

I am trying to say something elegant here, trying to smuggle out a few emotions out of my mind cloaked under this ever so false elegance to afford it the luxury of getting to know how it is to exist in this world unhindered

I am walking upright in the broad daylight while crouching and scampering along in the shadows. Being the most respectable citizen I am also the city's greatest crook.

In this game I drop the bread crumbs and I also follow my own trail, set the trap and walk into it too, I script every surprise, every moment of unabashed joy, with all my anger I kick the dog on the street and then share its pain, for I have nothing better to do, everything is just a subtle time pass, I am quietly entertaining myself, killing time, time just kills.