People come and go. It is inevitable. But what they also do is leave behind a gigantic, gaping hole in your life. A hole you spend the rest of your time trying to figure out what to fill with.
Some try to fill this hole with other people,alcohol, drugs, pain and then there are the others. They try to fill it with accomplishments,good books and movies, fulfilling their innate desires of achieving certain things they had been unable to attain, owing either due to their inability to look over and beyond the hole or what initially existed in its place.
I belonged to the former group of people for a while. my respite was crying alone and an abundance of solitude, self pity and pain. I was in love with the idea of being in pain. I felt comfortable there, It felt like a place where I comfortably belonged without being visible to anyone else, had been there long enough to feel cocooned in it. Then came the tears. Crying all by myself, every evening became a ritual of sorts. I listened to music and consciously brought in thoughts that evoked pain in me, then I would drown myself in that pain and drowned in my tears to glamorize it further. I believed pain and tears went hand in hand. I called it solace. I called it solitude. I even found myself calling it peace. Far far away from peace it sure was. It was noise. It was cacophony. It was the loud shrills of a fish market in the middle of a busy week day. And I tried to quieten it with its two worst enemies; more noise and more pain. All of this till I stopped dead in my tracks one day and got fed up of it totally.
I am 30 plus. A decade gone by in these last three moths and I didn’t remember when I was at peace or when I last had a good night’s sleep. And that was something I certainly didn’t plan for myself at 20. I was all chirp, laughter, giggles, silly, happy-go-lucky lass without a care in the world and eyes full of dreams; and mind you all were within reach. Nothing seemed impossible then. Young blood, restless to get to the next day to go ahead and achieve all that I could, take in all that I could get my hands on. And before I even realized I was lost. Lost to the hands of time, to the hands of my own self destructive means of finding more comfort in pain than in the joys of life. Pain eventually became a habit, and habit a way of life. The hole became bigger and bigger and more and more difficult to avoid.
Now, all I see is who I was and who I can be and I have a big gaping hole in front of me, staring right back at me. I do not wish to fill it up with any more pain. I certainly do not enjoy cryng all that much anyway. Coming back to who I was. I was an humor writer. I used to write poetry. I loved sports. I used to love reading. I certainly wouldn’t miss a single opportunity to watch a good movie . That was the life that used to truly fill me with joy and smeared a smile on my lips.
I want to get back to who I was. That is what I see beyond this hole now. Time is the toughest teacher. And I am just in time to catch up on to the last lesson it had to teach me before all was lost.
My thoughts brought me and shaped me into who I am today. And what I do from now on, to fill this black hole, will decide what I will be from now on. It is a black hole no doubt, but a cavity also comes with a certainty of an empty space that has a scope of getting filled with. What you fill it with is the choice you make. And I made my choice today.
Some try to fill this hole with other people,alcohol, drugs, pain and then there are the others. They try to fill it with accomplishments,good books and movies, fulfilling their innate desires of achieving certain things they had been unable to attain, owing either due to their inability to look over and beyond the hole or what initially existed in its place.
I belonged to the former group of people for a while. my respite was crying alone and an abundance of solitude, self pity and pain. I was in love with the idea of being in pain. I felt comfortable there, It felt like a place where I comfortably belonged without being visible to anyone else, had been there long enough to feel cocooned in it. Then came the tears. Crying all by myself, every evening became a ritual of sorts. I listened to music and consciously brought in thoughts that evoked pain in me, then I would drown myself in that pain and drowned in my tears to glamorize it further. I believed pain and tears went hand in hand. I called it solace. I called it solitude. I even found myself calling it peace. Far far away from peace it sure was. It was noise. It was cacophony. It was the loud shrills of a fish market in the middle of a busy week day. And I tried to quieten it with its two worst enemies; more noise and more pain. All of this till I stopped dead in my tracks one day and got fed up of it totally.
I am 30 plus. A decade gone by in these last three moths and I didn’t remember when I was at peace or when I last had a good night’s sleep. And that was something I certainly didn’t plan for myself at 20. I was all chirp, laughter, giggles, silly, happy-go-lucky lass without a care in the world and eyes full of dreams; and mind you all were within reach. Nothing seemed impossible then. Young blood, restless to get to the next day to go ahead and achieve all that I could, take in all that I could get my hands on. And before I even realized I was lost. Lost to the hands of time, to the hands of my own self destructive means of finding more comfort in pain than in the joys of life. Pain eventually became a habit, and habit a way of life. The hole became bigger and bigger and more and more difficult to avoid.
Now, all I see is who I was and who I can be and I have a big gaping hole in front of me, staring right back at me. I do not wish to fill it up with any more pain. I certainly do not enjoy cryng all that much anyway. Coming back to who I was. I was an humor writer. I used to write poetry. I loved sports. I used to love reading. I certainly wouldn’t miss a single opportunity to watch a good movie . That was the life that used to truly fill me with joy and smeared a smile on my lips.
I want to get back to who I was. That is what I see beyond this hole now. Time is the toughest teacher. And I am just in time to catch up on to the last lesson it had to teach me before all was lost.
My thoughts brought me and shaped me into who I am today. And what I do from now on, to fill this black hole, will decide what I will be from now on. It is a black hole no doubt, but a cavity also comes with a certainty of an empty space that has a scope of getting filled with. What you fill it with is the choice you make. And I made my choice today.
