As I looked outside my window, tiny droplets of rain filled the frame, like that of a masterpiece in the making. Just like any thinker I began to think and relate myself to this miraculous February rain. It seemed like the rain fell from my scars, drenching me with a pain of prevalent monotony, dripping with madness from the heart. A madness of sorts, my mind’s been sheltering for quite sometime now. This madness has its way for me, one of a kind. Everyday, thoughts come and go, strengthening my belief in my passion, I hold so close to me. This passion in me is for an image of this girl in my mind, oh so fine. Like a star in a million or that crimson moon we see once in a lifetime. This girl lives in my thoughts, no matter what comes and goes around on or around me. She is like this weird monotonous anesthesia I need from time to time, pressing against those very delicate veins, wrapping my heart in a red quilt of calm n comforting emotion, bringing a strange relaxed feeling to me, that I need more than I want. Every time I see her in these lucid images with my open eyes, I wonder if such a figure of pure innocence exists in this apparent, real word as they say. Where reality is anything we can see or touch. And right or wrong and sanity or insanity is defined by the surrounding society bearing no relation to the person on the stand. More than sometimes, these are just hypothetical notions, which are given a concrete structure, deciding our way of life.
They call me mad, because I see and feel things the society doesn’t approve of. This is the reason I call my thoughts a rainfall from my scars as seen from the outside. The doctors say I have SCHIZOPHRENIA, because I see and feel things others don’t. Its a mental condition they say. My family I once resided with, my friends whom I was always there for, my love whom I lived for once, all think I need help in a confined and control space, as the doctor said I could get violent after a while you see. But what they don’t know is that, this so called condition is the reason for keeping my calm. Its been almost 4 years that I have been in this empty room full of all possible materialistic pleasures n comforts. They all fail to realise this simple phenomena of personal belief and comfort. I have stopped fighting these bubbling isolated emotions, as their repercussions scare the living soul out of me. Whenever I try to fight them or stand up to them, they embrace me with a wired metal crown, possessing 240volts of electric current passing me by in installments of seconds through my brain. They say its for my own good and will help me, ‘clear my head’.
I don’t need a confined space. I don’t need to clear my head. I don’t need these materialistic pleasures and comforts. All I need is to be able to think and feel what I want. A liberty to just be myself. I don’t want people to tell me, whether I am sane or not. I want them to let me be the bloody judge of that. I’m sick and tired of people telling me, what is right for me or good for me either. I have a dream you know my dear. A dream to be free . Running around in a plush green lawn opening to the clear blue skies above the transparent sea just to think about her, to feel her right beside me. Away from everyone who thinks I need things, I dont even want.
Do you think I have an unreasonable dream? Will I ever be able to live it, is a question whose answer will be pretty rhetorical I’m guessing. But you know what keeps me going in such dilemmatic times. That I believe in my dream! Do you? Or can you?
Think...Love...Live..... 