Mourns of the Soul Fading Away

When the sun starts setting in the west, I feel my voice trembling to speak, may hand shivering to hold and my mind going mad with an unperceived thought which is never understood or neglected completely. The roads are emptier, the crowds are dull and the sir contains unusual amounts of guilt and grievances. I am barely not able to face red sky constantly thinking if the time of day is really cursed? I have lost much of my life at that time. One can understand to have complaints to times about good and bad people, but how do you complain about time? No one can. You can’t fight time, it’s miseries and undiscovered pain. You can just own it and get through it. The ability to kill time is life. That’s how we decide who is more lifely than others.

I am on the verge of breaking down. At the place where I can’t differentiate between the bad and the worst. My mind is losing control over my actions and I only blame my conscience for everything I do now. Without the confusion of evil and deed, whatever I choose is to keep myself attached with living stigma, with the ability to think, perceive, acknowledge, and ignore.

I have stopped talking to people, I don’t even talk to myself now. Words do mean very little to me, yet sometimes they keep showing me the power to shake my entire spine, my faint memories, and my vulnerable existence. I don’t meet anyone. The formalities are meaningless. We never mean to ask for how actually someone is feeling these days or going through. Greetings are a social illusion, conversations are pointless and emojis are a fraud. On one hand, we might be talking to someone all day long but on other hand, we are just filling up our routine.

I don’t feel anything now. My nerves are numb. Happiness, Gratefulness, Satisfaction, and Well-being are mere good words to write in fairy tales. Anything and everything around me have lost their power to induce my emotions. I am never thankful nor sorry anymore. I only look at faces, listen to what comes out of their mouths, and feel the burden of those words on my ears. I wish no one speaks to me or if possible I can’t hear anything.

I have been reconnecting with my spirit lately. I have noticed my prayer mate smells differently now. Smells soulful. It has learned to be with me. Sometimes when the day is done adding to my miseries, I lye down on it and say my silent prayers. My prayers are getting lengthy, I never feel like wishing to achieve great virtues, I just want to spill out everything inside out. The trees hinder my speech a lot so tiny thoughts run through all corners of my mind, gather all wishes and regrets to present before the good spirit. Someone listens to me very calm and collected but never replies.

I wish I could not see through faces so I never hated the perspective. I wish I could speak to trees and ask for their secrets of stillness and composure. I wish I learned to lie so I would not be losing everyone. I wish I could touch the air and feel all the love and life people say to each other. I wish I could read the walls and be able to know what they were trying to tell for ages. I wish I could hold the rain still and select some pure drops to fall on my face to wash away all the shades of darkness. I wish I could tell people how much they mean to me without sharing a moment of speech. I wish I could skip the gloomy evenings to deadly nights. I wish I could walk on my burial site and clean up the place before anyone. I wish I could decide the end of my chaos, my sufferings, my life. I think I wish too much...