Days pass by somehow
But, nights are now a wagon of pain,
Injuries may heal with time
But marks will always remain,
Restless on my comfortable bed
I toss and turn and try to sleep
But thoughts are bulking my head
And have formed a huge heap
The past is flashing its scorching light beams
Tearing me apart, breaking me at the seams,
The darkness of my life is more visible in the dark
And now, I am trying to give it a voice, trying to speak my heart.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Social, selfish,solitude !!!
You can't teach anyone anything about life through your own experiences, least of all how to enjoy solitude. I would know. If someone had told me being alone could be a fun thing, I would have totally disbelieved it some time back. I'm a people's person, I love being around people, albeit people I like. But four years spent in Mumbai taught me that there could be a thing like solitude, and it could be different from loneliness.
There is a very thin line between the two, you know. How easy it is to wallow into a sense of piteous loneliness and how easy to love the me-time and enjoy the solitude. I've done both while staying by myself, but mostly the latter. I've lived that time like... myself. Uninterrupted. Unadulterated. And loved it. More than I thought I was capable of!
But I think I came back home in time. Left alone any longer, I would have got addicted to my independence, the freedom to do what I wanted to, when and how. I'm glad I came back home to friends and family before I reached a point of no return. And I don't say that cynically. Because solitude is a selfish mode of existence. It's so much about yourself that if you begin to enjoy it too much, everyone else's company becomes dispensable. And adjustments unnecessary.
But such is not the luxury that life affords people who've chosen to live like social beings. And I'm not even sure if I would think solitude was a luxury if it were to be mine permanently. Right now, I only treasure times I've spent alone as precious reprieve from so much cackle. Right now, I only know what both sides of the fence feel like.
There is a very thin line between the two, you know. How easy it is to wallow into a sense of piteous loneliness and how easy to love the me-time and enjoy the solitude. I've done both while staying by myself, but mostly the latter. I've lived that time like... myself. Uninterrupted. Unadulterated. And loved it. More than I thought I was capable of!
But I think I came back home in time. Left alone any longer, I would have got addicted to my independence, the freedom to do what I wanted to, when and how. I'm glad I came back home to friends and family before I reached a point of no return. And I don't say that cynically. Because solitude is a selfish mode of existence. It's so much about yourself that if you begin to enjoy it too much, everyone else's company becomes dispensable. And adjustments unnecessary.
But such is not the luxury that life affords people who've chosen to live like social beings. And I'm not even sure if I would think solitude was a luxury if it were to be mine permanently. Right now, I only treasure times I've spent alone as precious reprieve from so much cackle. Right now, I only know what both sides of the fence feel like.
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