The Mirage

The loneliness often stabs from the back, at the least expected moment. The tunes in the song when you are wired in, a quick glance at your own shadow- the trigger is sent and a meltdown is coming.

And as my brain recollects the aura of a meltdown, I make my guards ready- the wisdom, the long breaths to distract myself, few quotes here and there, desperately cling on to the vision of dreams hoping they can drag me through the day.

A battle is inevitable.

I fragment. Each of my cells in the body aligns with one team or the other- one in the protest, one in the support. Each of them holding their flags for or against my vision, for or against the horizon and for or against my own leadership for me.  

Each of the philosophy I hold is tested. The tug of war begins. I drown, I rise, I shrink, I resist. The battle goes on.

And no matter who wins, I end up winning and losing at the same time. A part of me wins, a part of me loses. And there I sit at the consensus table with the winner, the loser, and me- staring at the shadow, hoping it lengthens and the day ends.

Some days it's about winning, some days it is about going through. Some days you triumph your vulnerabilities, some days you are not so lucky. Some days you float and some days you drown. And as much of a cliché, it is - Some days, you are Van Gogh's starry night, some days you are his suicide letter.

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