I was impressed with a recent post here and decided to pen this down. My hands were itching since the recent flood of bts. Please review...
Tired
I am tired.
Dead tired.
I can feel my very bones ache with exhaustion, my sinews sigh in fatigue. I am seeing double nowadays. Who knew, lifting oneself from the bed would be a mammoth task in itself? I feel the morning sun splash on my face yet my disobedient limbs refuse to move so that I can crawl out of my bed.
I lie there in wait, trying desperately to fight the mighty jaws of sleep which threaten to pull me back in it's sinking depths. The mere action of smiling has become unbearably arduous. I see life pass by me in its ruthlessly uncaring pace as I go through my routine in equal listlessness. Some days I can feel my secretary's unwanted sympathy radiate off his pitiful eyes in boundless fervour. I hate it.
I see myself withdrawing from everything I had loved once. Maybe love is too strong a word. Liked... probably would be more suitable. Nothing holds my interest or my attention for too long. The business is definitely suffering. Sometimes I allow myself to feel a little guilt at seeing my men work tirelessly to make up the heavy losses and find the weight on my shoulders start to exponentially increase till I want nothing more than to collapse on the bed.
The sharks have started circling for some time now. My investors are slowly and politely backing out. I cannot blame them. They want results. And I haven't delivered since too long. I take out the designs to stare at them pointlessly till my vision blurs and I feel like sleeping again. At first I had thought this was some strange disease which had afflicted me. But later Dr. Sippy, my therapist, explained that it was nothing abnormal in this stage. My mind has created a delusional world of it's own inside my brain, where the sky is pink and there was crystal blue waters, canary yellow primroses attract purple butterflies and I have nothing better to do than lie on the mint green grass and stare at the white clouds above.
There is no duty, no expectations, no responsibilities, no memories and no pain in my dreamland. It is just me and the pixies. Yet as the night passes on to give way to another torturous day, my world shatters to welcome the teeth chattering pain and blood curdling tiredness in the grey reality of my worthless existence. It makes me want to curl into a ball and whimper there.
Yet I drag myself up again. I am supposed to be tough. My gender traits doesn't give me respite to feel weak and inadequate. I am strong and invulnerable. And my life will always expect me to bounce back from any calamity. Be it death, destruction, heartbreak or all three.
I see my sister exchange victorious and vindictive smiles with her useless lover as they see me trudge up the stairs. Her sweet innocent face twisted in a malicious mirth, so quick to stab. I make a little space for her dagger in my shredded heart. If stabbing me every time would give her a little bit of happiness then let it be. Maybe this will be my blessing to her as well. I hope she sees, in which pit she is getting pulled into soon. I see my mother look away from me, as if my mere sight would ruin her struggling solitude. She blames me as usual. I push a few other scrapes from that same organ to let her hit as well. The exhaustion covers me a bit more.
I am getting drained.
Slowly and surely.
I see her everywhere. In the sun, the moon, the stars, in my wardrobe, in the mirror of my dresser, in the kitchen, in the terrace, on the streets, in my office, in my car, on my bed, smiling beneath my closed eyes in my dreams. She is beautiful as always. Sparkling eyes and loving smiles. Fanning tresses in the south wind air. I knew we were too explosive to last longer. Like a chemical compound created to cause chaos. At first I thought it would be that good for nothing ex husband of hers. But I forget you know. I forget sometimes that the biggest problem in our lives isn't anyone else. It is I, myself.
Alas! A demon that I am, I should known that no angel would be brave enough, fearless enough to graze close to me. Not even her. I thought we would walk this path together and come stronger at the other side but I forgot that I am not meant for happiness. I am not meant for peace. I am not meant to be loved. I am not the protagonist of my own story. I am the villain. I am the Devil. I am the twisted malignant scoundrel who should've known better than to let a heart breathe inside his rotten chest.
My business is not for the faint hearted. Neither is it completely legal. I have taken risks. Mistakes happened. She never agreed much my point of view. That's fine. I didn't agree to hers. But how long would we have clashed without one breaking?
Her brother, the damned little fool got injured.
I let her break it off. Maybe I should have held onto her stronger. When I saw that determined look on her pretty face, her eyes shining bright, her pink lips trembling, I knew she was hurting. I knew she was tired as well. And in that moment I knew even if I fall to my knees, beg and cry, it wouldn't matter.
I lost her. I had lost her long back. I smiled brittlely and signed the papers and felt the strings of fatigue bind me with it's stinging talons.
One day or the other you have to face the biggest truth of your life. I had tried to run from mine since forever. Yet now, it stands like a bare fact in front of my face --- No one was meant to stay with me for long. Not even her. Specially not her. I would burn alone in my self made cage of past horrors and present aches, till I can burn no more.
Geet - Hui Sabse Parayee
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