the one where i talk to myself in third person

i like how this season there are very few political happenings – it gives me an excuse to indulge in creative writing. my friends have said that they’ve wanted to pick my mind for sometime. i find that pretty scary – my mind is a dangerous place. it’s where dreams are born, but also where emotions are locked up in the face of logic. it’s where awareness breeds inadequacy , and where the knowledge of no knowledge is king.

but what if we could… what if we could see ourselves in third person? what would we say?

____

i always imagined entering my mind as entering a secret door , hidden in the large trunk of a tall tree, marked out clearly in the centre of the forest. when I was in England, I found such a tree. i simply willed it, and the doors opened up, allowing me to enter freely.

therein were two chairs. the room was dark, except for a spotlight , showing the seats in contrast to the rest of the area. it was instinctive ; i went to sit on one of the chairs.

“hello?” i had said.

i’m coming , i didn’t think you’d ever visit

“of course i would. we both knew this would happen. we’re weird like that” i had remarked. it was true. i achieved nearly anything i put my mind to. unraveling the mind included.

alright, alright. let me put on some pants. 

a shallow version of myself walked out. he was skin and bones. his eyes were hollowed out, and his breath was deliberate.

“i never thought my mind was so weak” i had snorted.

that’s exactly it. your mind isn’t anything spectacular. you’ve exhausted me – given me no rest, no recuperation.

that’s fair. we have much to do, don’t you see? our lives are racing to the grave, yet there’s so much to do , so much to see. how can you remain idle?” i replied.

do you know what’s the fondest memory i had of us? 

no,” i had said.

when we danced in the moonlight. when you let yourself go. when we weren’t about rationality, we were about whim. you let the gut do most of the thinking then

“how is he anyway? the gut i mean”  i interrupted.

he’s pretty good. you’ve been working him out, that helps me as well. as i was saying, though, i liked it a lot more when we were about creating stories rather than racing the clock

“you’re right. i remember when i wanted to write the ultimate story : my own life” i popped in.

ah yes, the ultimate story. that was a good year. 2014 was it not?

twenty-fucking-fourteen. when i had realised that the stories i had written were way too compelling to be left as print, i decided to construct the most epic storyline imaginable. ”

i still remember the final party you threw, just before you flew off for your studies. all the people you had ever met, all the experiences you had every nurtured, all laid in front of you. wasn’t that grand? did that not show you that anything was possible?

“and you probably grew ten-fold after that, didn’t you?”

i did. that’s probably why you could cope with college. let’s be honest, we’re not normally equipped for such rigor. it’s only because of what we did.

“i agree. i miss that. i miss caring about what i did”

you should meet your soul. he’ll probably surprise you

“oh gosh, how would i find him?”

he’s a she. it’s unimaginable but you’re quite a sensitive guy deep down. it’s just that you’ve built that wall around yourself. to block out anything that can hurt her

” that makes sense. i tend to get protective over the people i care about as well”

but you’ve learnt to empower them as well. you’ve realised that loving isn’t stifling. it’s learning to help them become who they should and can be. the moments when you were in love were the moments i felt a thrill 

” i like the sound of that. i miss the times when i was relaxed. when i felt at peace”

you used to like fishing didn’t you. it was like yoga, but you got to kill something. you didn’t have to do anything but pull it out of its environment and watch it realise it’s life was flashing past it.

that’s the dangerous part of me… i don’t want to go there”

you have to accept it. when you’re faced with the spectrum of knowledge and understanding, when you’re awe at what’s insanely good, you would also watch back at what’s insanely bad and see the wicked beauty in it. 

“and i’ll hate it. i can appreciate the beauty, but i’ll hate it”

and rightfully so.

” i’m tired. but there’s so much more i want to talk about”

then come back. i’ll be dressed the next time

“i shall” I had said.

and i walked out of the room, feeling more aware of myself than i had ever been. and i swore for the moment that i had left him, the shrunken shadow of my mind had grown in size.

geronimo.

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