It’s freezing, and it has been raining incessantly for the past three days. And even though the weather has been despairing and gloomy, I’ve happily found a reason to stay in bed. My eyes have become accustomed to the darkness. With the sun sequestered behind the clouds, my heart is oddly warm, and my mind, fuzzy.
And I’ve realized (1) how the sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows is always a blatant alarm. There were many times when I didn’t want to wake up, yet the light which would fill every corner in my room, diametrically reminded me of the fact that, I need to.
Now as the rain falls heavily on the pavement, I’ve realized that (2) the sun didn’t enliven me. It was the cold, the rain, the cliché romantic stories, and the plaintive clouds – that were all an inlet to a world of creativity. And, love. Because maybe, after all, that was my true aim in life – to fall in love with myself. So with this temporary full stop, I feel closer to myself than I ever have. It has given me a reason to hide (underneath my warm blanket), slightly in pain and slightly because I don’t ever want to do something that makes me feel cold in the cold weather (both literally and metaphorically).
I have truly felt warm while flipping through the pages of a trite romantic novel, and pondering how utterly silly life is, and how utterly mundane everything else is, and how pathetically dramatic our lives are, aren’t they? As I did everything I could to entertain myself, and entertain the idea of love, it struck me, that it is not what happens to us that hurts. It’s not the heart that breaks. It’s only the mind playing tricks, receiving and transmitting what it wants to receive and transmit. And nobody ever wants to get hurt now, do they? Then why, I wonder, do we get hurt.
Anyway, it is pathetic fallacy that I’m drunk on. And I never want to stop reading. At least until the sun tarries awhile. Or until I find all the answers, played out in real time.
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