Dear Moavi - The Morning Memoir1

 The incessant refutal of negation has lead to kindle rhetoric oxymoron

I recently came across this concept called as the morning paper, so what is a morning paper? Indeed a curious question to ask, well as the name suggests you take up it as a challenge and then it becomes your friend to whom you share your blocking, your thoughts your desires, and an inmate intimacy of mindfulness. Sometimes I wonder what if I was born in Prague Zurich Amsterdam or a place so joyous, I wonder how the life would have been would I have been in the same place as I’m now?

In my dreams I have imagined myself sailing, swimming diving, and exploring I smile and I’m in that perfect picture frame as they call it’s picturesque it’s splendid and it’s spellbinding. it’s free from vulnerability and it has all that ever matters. it has me. In that utopia in that perfect world somehow I’m always alone, you may ask Dear that it’s an imagination after all. I can put anyone next to me, a happy soul who looks up with proud and captivating eyes, a smile, and two arms around. Albeit this could be what I have always desired, I imagine autumn I imagine sea I imagine narrow pathways of neverland and there is me, only me with all his vulnerabilities and weakness the true me alone, void yet calm and happy. Isn’t it what they say, Happiness is only real when shared it’s said that we humans are social animals and we need people around, making us complete. I see myself and I ask and question about the seclusion I have built around myself. I detach in an instant and it’s so difficult to ever attach, I interact I converse I listen and endlessly I express yet as the dawn shifts towards dusk I see that charade has left no impact. I’m what I was in the morning with no strings attached. It has lead me to a disability it has directed me towards a curse, which I knew that always existed, yet knowingly acknowledged but not accepted. I’m not capable of forming relationships or to form emotional bonds, I’m disabled and I’m a singularity, I expand and I chase the origin only to fail in a multiverse of abnormality. I study people and I have realized I’m not one of them. I disappoint and I fail to express affection, love, or even anger. It’s not true and I don’t know what emotions are or rather that I don’t feel them I do and I understand I empathize and then I move on, whatever I try I can’t hold on to it. I wonder if there’s a term for people like me I wonder if there’s a diagnostic to this cryptic simplicity. It’s so unfair when people love and dearly care for you but you can’t reciprocate. I wonder if there’s a way to be normal like everyone else. To be that ideal enigma, a person who feels and expresses, one who cares, cries, and betrays. I don’t remember the last time I had shed tears, cried, or even have cared for that instance.

I’m sure science must have answers to what I seek, should I meet someone who understands? A therapist maybe, or as they say meditation helps to calm your brain but somehow my brain never has multiple thoughts running. It’s stressed with a burden, the burden to be normal yet it’s always calm so could be I need running thoughts to make me like everyone else, there are a lot of answers that I have to seek, maybe I have to stop being selfish and precisely be more selfless.

Still there’s a question that lingers, sits and drinks his black coffee peers deep into my eyes and asks…Do you really want to put people or rather as I say variables into the equation making it more complex, perplex and delusional...Do I really need people to validate?

Do I really want to be normal, where all I have ever chosen desired and anticipated is different…Do I really want to be like everyone else?

 

By- Kshitij Sinha
18/05/2021

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