....... and so I write again. With sincerity and integrity. But unfortunately, I write on the the winds of time and so, everything I write is blown away into the past.
At every careless moment when I place my pen upon some piece of paper, I hope to sculpt in rock. I aspire to usher in yet another view into this world that is already cluttered with endless opinions. I want to be lauded for my own contribution to this confusion.
But more than anything else, when I read it years from now, I do not want to merely associate with it, but to relive it. I wish to feel as strongly as it felt back then. Although I am trying to understand why I feel like clinging to the past.
If my feelings past cannot stand up to the test time and look me in the face now, then maybe my feelings present have little value. How do I believe in something that is merely fleeting ? If I am not the person I was then, surely I am not the person I am now, and I am not the person I will be.
Yes, growth is inevitable, I console myself. But something tells me, it is exactly that. A consolation. Truth is just a moving piece on a timeline that precariously hangs on to the time being.
I doubt this trivialisation can be explained in a language that was made by man’s limited imagination. If everything is trivial and nothing is real, why make an effort for anything ?
The other day, I was watching someone enjoying a game of chess. Moving pieces to fight an imaginary battle with nothing at stake. They played with devotion and revelled in its smallest joys but at the end, shook hands and walked out without another care.
Maybe that is what this is supposed to be. A game to play until it’s time to get up and walk away. So as long as I’m playing, might as well play to win and to the best of my ability. Why not, I have nothing to lose.
Or more accurately, there is nothing to lose.
