In Random Rhythemlessness

In extreme hurry, she tried to scribble down whatever was jamming her thoughts. Some feelings in broken phrases, or phases conveying broken feelings. Not sure. But definitely not just "spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings"...then they would have been rhythemless – unorganized, but atleast not without clarity in the meaning. But what was happening now was too random, fast…very fast, and intensely volatile in nature, giving almost a grotesque look to the hazy view. She tried to remember when was the last time she had dreamt a happy dream…or composed poetry intensely fed with colors. She could only remember ‘numbness’ as long as her senses could afford to feel. People often speak of heartbreaks. She deliberately tried to find reasons, to fit in the list. She failed. Extremely doubtful, she put her hand on her chest…felt a thud and then another, and another again, being divided by similar intervals. She remembered people calling it to be ‘heart beats’. But she could only describe it to be a phenomenon that has to go on and on, and for how long- she has no idea. The ‘painlessness’ that has perforated her youthfulness, felt heavier than any heartbreak that anyone could imagine. How she longed for a life of ‘Veronika’, who did decide to die and fail in her approaches to give up and just found out the meaning of life in her decision to die. She is not brave enough to end it all. But they say to hold on to life needs more courage. She is not sure if she can call herself courageous. Whatever was happening was against her will, this was somewhere not her plan…but then what was her plan?? Her dreams…she doesn’t even remember. In fragments they come and go…the dreams that had been sweet, once upon a time…the happenings- pleasant or not- that had surprised her, reorganized then disorganized her entire perspective of holding on…in fragments they show up with the blurriness…rudely grotesque…unloved – disowned. She puts her pen down. Not the love for life, not even hatred…she only remains suspended to her own volatile state of remaining, with the phenomenon of thud in regular intervals within her chest and the breath of air- way in and way out.