Okay... first things first.. I DID NOT WRITE THIS..A friend of mine did.. So let me tell you about the writer first. This is one crazy person.Ambivalent, moody, intelligent(if he uses it), assertive and a fighter.. A say fighter coz i have seen him fall like a dry leaf and then rise like a mountain. Like i said he is crazy.. only few of his things make sense to me.. and this is one of them.. So read and enjoy..and please dont ask his name :)
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Somehow, the moments left behind, though gone always exist. Like on a highway, driving through the fields, you see something that catches your eye, and then it’s gone, left behind. That does not mean it does not exist anymore, we just have got to look back, or more so, retrace our steps go back on the road for it. Somehow, I believe that in some way similar to this perhaps we can see, if not go back in time. All we have to do is look back, and find the answers…
The past occasionally hits you like uncontrolled pulsating energy beams, that vibrate throughout your body. For every one of us, there exists a portal, a door that kind of acts like an antique shop. Stuff in there is too precious but still of no use in life. The portals, act like some vortex, that drag you back in time. In my world, I have my portals ( ya many) which are actually beefed up with quite a security!! The portals are watched over by my failures in the past, by positives that I today have. Quite a scuffle it has always been to get through all that! But sometimes since a rebel that I am, I manage to sneak through…
Today I managed to sneak past it again, my personal reasons, I found myself rite in front of that door again, that particular one. At the very stood my greatest fear, or rather confusion. There stood no one. Was it a trick? Or was I not expected to make it this far after all these years? It felt so deserted as if all the so called “security” never actually was there in the first place, as if my mind was playing tricks over tricks. However as all such bizarre thoughts flooded my head, I saw the keeper. The keeper was watching over the gate, it was my own conscious. It, was me.
Sitting on the side of the strange rusted gate, legs stretched out with hands over knees, I see my own self, my conscious perhaps, or both rather a mix of “is me” and “was me” . eyes met and no words were spoken which was kind of unnerving. It felt as if there was something, some sort of transfer going on, but what?! Memories, advice or a warning?
I know how I can easily open my book of past because the urge for answers has not died since years. I learned to contain them and I did, perhaps for the greater good, but could never kill that strong urge. Sometimes the pursuit to truth can turn you into a monster. There are good monsters and there are bad monsters, but the fact is they are monsters.
But as of now , as I stand face to face with myself, asking, would my instincts prevail? Would I want my answers? Would I become the beast again?
As I ponder over various ideas and explanations, the other me, what I believe now resembles exactly like “was me” stand up, I see the weariness in him. Walks up to me. Still I feel the strong path of connection as if something is being or has to be said, or perhaps just understood, as many old memories connect with the new ones. The thoughts I had and the ones that I have now connect in a way that feels weird. As if there exists a logic, in defying the logic of this utter chaos. To let go, or to let the urge wash all over are the only two choices left as I stare into the the other me, I am now not sure which is the “was” and the “is” part of me. Two paths, past or future, two ways, good or evil, to walk away or walk through…
I walk away and I am left behind….
