Has your body turned to a graveyard yet?
Setting all my required stationary on my table in an organised way. I flipped through the pages of my diary, seeing all those half written stories and picked up my pen. Writing-cutting-writing-cutting, and I threw my pen way and closed my diary with frustration.
“Who am I kidding?” I said to myself laying back on my chair resting my arms on my head thinking about my endless useless attempts of writing again. Waiting for myself for that one day to have a will to get up from the bed without feeling any weight, express more of myself and be able to hold my pen again without anymore shiver. Also, talking to those whom I treated with a blunt knife in this process. Yes, I am more dangerous than creative under pressure now.
I guess my characters have waited long enough for me to tell them about their characteristics. I guess my story has waited long enough for me to tell it about its ending. I think my diary has waited long enough for my pen and my passion for my will.
Seeing all these people around me discussing their future plans, I stand clueless and sometimes worthless too. I am not jealous of them maybe just a bit shocked my blank answer paper to the question “What do I wanna do in my life?” A question I am trying to find an answer to but all I get by at the end is a headache and tons of frustration knowing that I still haven’t figured out anything yet.
Tears roll down my eyes as I ended this conversation with my father later in the evening and faced the other side. He didn’t noticed as was busy driving and my mask (oh for the first time I loved it so much) was enough to save my teary ID.
“PAIN! YOU MAKE ME A YOU MAKE ME A BELIEVER!” I sang along with the car stereo with my cracked squeaky voice, reminding myself to not breakdown again. I karaoke-ed the whole song till I realised that I wasn’t crying anymore. Instead I realised that I was now calm, giggly, asking stupid questions to my father and craving for an ice-cream sandwich like a 5 year-old kid.
You might find these pretty childish and normal like who doesn't get a halt in their life from time to time, or in easy words you did call it a creative block or maybe an excuse to escape from my responsibilities but NO. It’s NOT childish nor an excuse, it is a fight from self where a part of you wants to be gone, give up and be finished where the other part of you is struggling its best to not let you do so. Trust me the other part isn’t strong enough but still tries to put its best foot forward. AND, it isn’t a halt or a creative block, it is the ‘will’ which has been missing from you. You no longer feel anything: pain, emotions, excitement, good or bad your brain turns to a robot who no longer has its own thoughts except for commands from others and a body which operates on those commands. In short you turn to a graveyard where various coffins hold you soul, emotions, mind, creativity, passion, relationships and sensitivity.
Just sometimes, like once in a while you feel happy despite of all the negativity around you. But, it doesn’t takes a second for it to disappear from your life and drag you back to your graveyard.
Try to observe around you, try to analyse the people around you who live or are on the edge to fall into this graveyard. Offer a hand and try to keep a hold of it till they make the effort to climb up to your bright world where they once lived. Because its hard to ask for the hand for that person to you.
I believe someone within me will celebrate “Dia de los Muertos” for me. Someone, will remember me.
Thank you for reading. I hope you got the point I want to convey.
