Sometimes old memories bring along with them a pinching sensation, with a strong ache, that blurs your vision for a second. For that second the present seems out of sight, beyond your grasp and the past lingers as if never left behind. The next moment, you see yourself falling, falling down to all the things that you thought you have risen above. Once again you find yourself in the clutches of something utterly dark, for in hands that hold you now runs like blood all the hatred, pain which you ever felt. It pains, maybe more than it did then. You know, humans couldn’t handle too much reality. And this is the moment of realisation. Realisation that the moment you stop running, your demons will catch up to you. The realisation that thing thing you are running away from lies within you and it will lay there forever. And somehow this one second seems to be stretching beyond infinity. This memory, this delving into the past strengthens one sensation and numbs you to others around you. What lingers is the pain, the regrets of a distant past and in the process the present is captured by a sense of amnesia. The happiness which you were capable of in the present seems like a mirage, the existence of which stands questioned. This ache breaks you in a way that all the broken pieces are exposed simultaneously to a kind of darkness from where there seems to be no escape. And eventually all these pieces merge into the darkness that surrounds and get reduced to nothingness. Where your heart lay now lies a void, a pit. But then you wake up from this one second, as if from a nightmare, panting, gasping for breath. Life resumes, slowly at a snail’s pace. So slowly that you could feel it while it happens.
But life resumes, the one of chosen, desired forgetfulness.


Has your life ever felt like a war. Where mornings and waking up is like marching to the battlefront and sleep is like night coming as to halt what is to be resumed tomorrow. But I wonder what do warriors, soldiers dream of. I wonder if like me their wars follow them into their dreams. There’s no escape you see. The blood is just too thick that washing them first from your hands, then from your consciousness is meant to leave some trace.Then I wonder if there’s a bridge which connects hopes, happiness to reality. I wonder if all it takes is to tread that distance for you to be happy, hopeful once. Sometimes I see a bridge in my dreams, I think it’s the one but sun has a habit of taking it all away. With time you grow fearful of the sun, of its blinding rays because you know what you are going to see once it lights up the world. You wake up, march again to what might be your end and then walking back regretting how it was not. Life is like a war these days, you know. But it’s just that I am to walk alone, I don’t have an army you see. It’s my war that you will never know of and it’s my war that you will never be a part of. Unlike a soldier’s war mine won’t end with me being a survivor or a martyr because all that silent wars leave behind are just lost victims. And I am destined to be one.