It was easy enough to kill yourself in a fit of despair. It was easy enough to play the martyr. It was harder to do nothing. To endure your life. To wait.
From The Fear Of Flying by Erica Jong.
I have not been away, even though two weeks of silence would say otherwise. I too have been waiting, for what, I have no idea and trying to entertain myself at the same time by attempting to form the million thoughts that fly by into coherent sentences, albeit with very little success.
It is something like walking into an old room full of books and wiping the layer of dust, book by book, only to find that it was not the title you wanted. At the same time you do not know which title precisely is it that you want. The idea is that knowledge, hopefully, would arrive riding shotgun with the next revelation. But reality always begs to differ in mutual exclusion with fantasy.
It used to be hours once upon a time, days later, weeks recently and months now. Units of measuring time for me is so fast losing its significance that it is scary. Time stretches out into the horizon like an ocean, marked by waves of differing magnitudes that one gets to ride. Up, down and even a nasty wipe out at times. Before long, the bane of consistency and predictability surfaces and consumes everything.
I should be scared about how insensitive I have become, about how I seem to keep going no matter what happens, about how it has stopped bothering me, other than a mild academic interest about what might come out of all of this and how this lopsided view has become normal for good. Strangely, especially for paranoid little me, I am not.
The answers do not matter anymore, all I have to offer is a smile, it covers up for so many things, it says so many things without saying anything and the best reason of all, it is easy to learn and comes for quite cheap. It could mean warmth, happiness, contentment or any damn thing that you want to read into it, but for me all it says is "That is the best you can throw at me? You'll have to do better creep, I might be beaten, I might be broken, but I am still standing".