Returned home from gym, stumbled upon a picture of a man with an umbrella. The rains back home are different. Going on walks with my brother. We did nothing. Said nothing. He held the umbrella. He’s taller. And we walked on and on. Just walked until walking any further would take us a step too far from home. Walking was our only respite those days. A respite from our own oppressive state of mind. The restless, unforgiving, cruel, ugly mind.
Today, I woke up at 3 am and started waiting for the sun to rise so I can go out and have something to eat. I was hungry. I went to the stall by the end of the road, ate something, and smoked a cigarette. I rarely smoke. Mostly, only, when I have time to kill. I stood leaning on the car, parked by the side of the road, smoking my cigarette. I normally lean on the wall or sit down while smoking. It makes my head go round because I’m not used to it. The weather was gloomy like my mood. I regretted not wearing my shoes. The road was wet. It had rained during the night.
Life is sacred. Mercy and kindness. Sickness and sin. It had to happen. And it happened because it lied within us. Part of our growth consists of bringing our hidden self into light. Shed the covers like a caterpillar. There’s no need to disown our “shadow”. It’s a process we must cherish. We don’t deny the humble beginnings of our animal self in the form of sperm cells. Why deny the weakness and sickness of our spiritual or moral self. Rather than denying and disowning this part we need to take special care of it. We need to address it with patient love.
If it lies unaddressed, it has the ability to come back to haunt us like an old friend who knows more about us than we do. It will take you by surprise. On the path of self awareness, we need to be accepting of who we are at this moment of life. We want to be good and we want to be perfect or heroic. There’s nothing more heroic than to be patient with your sick soul. Like taking care of a sick friend day and night. But you don’t even want to admit that your friend is sick let alone taking care of him.
Solitude is beautiful. But, I’m afraid, it won’t last. It’s easy to spend time with yourself when you’re out of work, at home. But, to spend time with yourself when you don’t have any time, is difficult. I’ve tried journalling before. I know, now, why I never persisted. It’s about solitude. It’s about you. When you’ve not learned to be happy in your own company, when you can’t bear the aloneness, how can you find the discipline to stay inside a room writing about yourself, your days and nights, your thoughts and disappointments.
Sometimes, it gets difficult to even sit by myself in my room. I start looking for something to distract me. Instant gratification of some sort. I’ve decided I should practice spending time with myself in solitude. But, what is solitude? Merriam Webster dictionary defines it as, “a state or situation in which you are alone usually because you want to be.” Another dictionary defines it as, “solitariness.” It’s a state of being where you don’t need others to make you feel happy. It’s when you love yourself enough to want to spend sometime with yourself.
So, the main difference between solitude and loneliness is that you’re alone because of the external circumstances imposed upon you but you’re solitary when you want to be alone with yourself or you want to do something you love without being disturbed by anybody. So, I’m going to spend some time away from others and do stuff I love to do.
I can’t lie to myself. At least not now. I’ve to speak the truth. Otherwise I’m doomed. I’ve been lying to myself since I don’t know when. I was too weak to face the truth. I was too scared to see the evil. But now I’ve turned into an evil monster. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know where. I need a place where I can burst open my heart and see what lies within. What kind of disease is turning my heart black? What kind of sickness is crippling my soul?