I haven't left; really, I haven't. I was merely occupied with things that have all amounted to nothing. Well, only nothing amounts to nothing, and I was obviously exaggerating there. But all of those things have amounted to what feels like nothing, in light of all that I expected out of them.
I moved. I moved from a place that had seemed to will me ill, to a place that I hope wills me well. One 1BHK to another. Taking along my roommate, my three guitars (one of which I'm safekeeping), my amplifier, a TV and my refrigerator--oh, and my roommate carried all of his stuff as well.
What did I leave behind? I left behind the sight of my office (home was close to it for 11 months, not anymore), a loo that now seems huge, a kitchen that was never cooked in, some empty cigarette packs, and anything I could find of an old girlfriend that I needed lost, destroyed, left behind--including the days, nights and mornings after that we spent there. I am now just one (plus roommate). And waiting for a new girl+friend--although, I really know I shouldn't be...waiting i.e., time tends to take its own sweet self.
Would you believe I'm happy?
I didn't think so, but then, I knew I couldn't lie to you--though God knows, I've tried. I suppose I'm just trying to explain my absence, not justify it. Everything can be justified, a friend once told me, but I didn't believe him then, and I still don't. There are some things that can't be justified. Laziness is one. Fear is another. Our two most greatest motivators (have you seen Waking Life? Try to get your hands on it. And don't watch, listen).
I'm reading Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke, again. You should too. Just for a different perspective, or reaffirmation, if you're one of the lucky few who've already been instructed by life.
I'm writing today because something motivated me other than fear and laziness. I don't quite know how to describe it, but a word does come to mind--even if it's a random word, not as self-explanatory as I'd want it to be--sunshine. I felt the sun shine on me today, as I sat in a Barista close to home and read Rilke's responses to a young poet as lost as most of us are. It was 'insanely fucking amazing' (not literally, of course, it induced neither insanity nor orgasm, but it sure felt like it). The peace I felt, I haven't felt in a long time. And I wanted to share it with you. If you haven't already tried it, please do. Take a day off work, or half a day--like I did. Go to a place where you're comfortable, anywhere in direct sunlight and with a lot of trees around you, and just read, or listen to music, or click pictures, or play a guitar, or just sit.
And tell me if you really feel like life's lost hope, or like your job is too stressful, or anything else matters other than just being able to realise that the fact that the breath going in and out of your body is the only thing you need to work towards finding happiness in life.
Go ahead, I double-dare you.
P.S.: The picture's by one Matilde B. It's faked, I believe. But it's a work of art, using tools that are not conventionally artists' tools. Take it as is.
