When I Fear I May Cease To Be

Isn't the Mercury Retrograde over yet? Everything seems suspended in a strange sort of stasis. We return to our lives that used to be with the shadow of a fear. I just want us all to be happy again. In the room where I got my vaccine doses, the lights on the ceiling were soft and dreamy, and the rows of cushioned chairs slanted down a steady slope. I looked around and realized we were in a movie theatre, although the screen was covered up by the make-shift cubicles where the nurses met the unvaccinated. The realization hit me like a slow ache, bringing back memories of movie dates and lunches and friends I hadn't seen in ages. When our biggest festival came round, I spent the time in my room, flipping through facebook memories, recollecting a decade's worth of plannings and anticipations and picking out dresses and mad traffic and melancholy evening goodbyes. This is an old bereavment of mine, this traveling home after a happy hour or two, the crowd somehow always flowing opposite, a happy stream from which I am alienated, because I had left my world behind. Vacations end, and we return to the grind, from home or otherwise. Except, I don't know what I am doing anymore, and why. What purpose do I serve in the grand scheme of things? Birth, fill up the data sheets, death, is that it? Is it too much of a mauvaise foi to imagine that things ought to mean something? That there are living hearts and minds behind the data, and they ought to count? Do they count? Am I just stupid? Things that I fear- that I shall die turning this futile cycle and it will amount to not a single damn thing. That I will never hug a friend again. That the magic mail will never arrive. That I will pour out all the love in my heart and they will just be words among words– funny shaped scribbles against the blank. All of this means nothing anyway. I think I have forgotten to write. Maybe it would be easier if I felt it less. I dunno. Who reads this anyway? Why? Do I ever make sense to you? YouTube Instagram Facebook Twitter
(Photo by Anna Shevts via Pexels.com)

Comments

  1. UnknownOctober 22, 2021 at 3:17 AM

    Yes, you make perfect sense. All the amorphous feelings that well up inside all of us find perfect expression in this blog. Ramble on ramblerđŸ¥°

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ruchira MandalJanuary 24, 2022 at 1:26 AM

      Thank you. It feels good to be heard. Maybe check out my other pieces if you have time.

      Delete

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