Before and After Vantage of time

Seems everything is running, everything fleeting away. Like I am trying to hold sand in my palms and it just keeps slipping out. Time, you are running out! There is so much I wish to do, but you just don’t care. Your moments are dying every second. You are bringing me to my grave.

For the past two years my life has been on a roller coaster and I just can’t slow down or relax for a while. Ever since my job swallowed me, I have been stuck in its guts and it’s a horrendous torture that just doesn’t stop. I can’t figure out what I am doing. I can’t tell where my efforts disappear. I just know I have to go to a place, kill hours of time, and return again to a hollow room back to my jaded life. The little time that clings in a day then dies with the chores. So horrible a living! I cannot tell my purpose. I cannot understand the reason behind my path. Just stuck like a morsel in an ever ending chew. I just know eventually I would be spit out tattered, insipid and lifeless.

Seems I have forgotten the touch of nature. As a kid I would stand for hours with open arms to feel the wind in my hair, its soft subtle touch on my skin. I would exclaim in utter rapture, “Look brother! How awesome the weather is!” I remember the little whirlwinds that nature made for my leisure. How with squinted eyes I would try to look into the dust and filth, and at the torn plastic bags that danced with the dust devil! I remember how for hours I would look into the sky at every bird that drifted, every cloud that crawled slowly like a soul that knew its destination, at the vast blue and the stars that would begin to show at dusk. How I would point, “That one’s the brightest! That must be Sirius! Where’s my star? The North one?” How at night with unblinking eyes I would stare at the darkness drenched with tiny white motes and wonder if I saw a shooting star. Search one that did not twinkle and brand it a planet without a telescope. Look for UFOs in the sky and argue for hours what we saw wasn’t a satellite.

How I would spend hours looking at the swarm that fought battles of survival for food near anthills. How then would I wonder how come these creatures don’t have eyes? I remember looking closely at every little act of cows, dogs and cats and wonder what they must be thinking? How little they could do? So unfair! As if inadvertently adjusted or succumbed forcefully to mankind’s lifestyle. Look at trees that disappeared into the sky and wonder what it would be like to be up there? Gawk at the moon for hours at night and wonder if there was a lady in pain waiting to be rescued.

Every moment of living drenched with a fantasy in my head. There wasn’t a jaded moment in my life. Dragons and dinosaurs battled with me for survival of the fittest. And I would be the fittest. I often miss the soft touch of grass beneath my palms as I would place myself in its innate bliss as if there was no tomorrow. I believed there were miracles and that one day something would hit me and make me Superman. I thought staring at Sun for hours would make me powerful. I would believe what cinema manifested. I believed I was a protagonist in the story of this world.

My livelihood someone else’s responsibility. I was carefree. Without rules to bind me or slow me down. I used to run. Run a lot. Into the fields of magic. Gasp with a breath so exhilarating that told me I achieved something in that momentary run. That I had a purpose: to cross the finish line.

I miss the taste of life I lived when I didn’t know anything about growing up. Now I have grown up. I am dead. I miss the lively time I had with the nature. Now I look at the sky only to see if there are clouds of rain. And rain with disgust because of all the swamp it makes. Look at barking dogs with eyes of rebuff. If I try to stare at the night sky, stars no longer show up. They have been slain by the city lights. A plain sight is just a plain sight. Dragons no longer battle and dinosaurs have disappeared once and for all just like my figments have. Ants don’t exist in our world. Mosquitoes do. Filth, dust and plastic bags don’t deserve a squinted eye. They just need a bin. The wind no longer whirls. In squalls I don’t go out. The sun and the moon are just inevitable patches in the sky that always go unnoticed. “You are just burning in jealousy sun!” Night just has a cold heart. What surrounds me isn’t nature. What surrounds me is human agony. What surrounds me is pain. I reek of suffering, malice, hatred, wrath, stress and squabbles.

Such little time a day offers that just wither with meaningless talks. Then again a new day begins with 24 pointless hours that are silently aware of their imminent death.

I wish I could get away from all of this. To quit. So that I could be with nature once again. Carefree. Without rules. Witness the living every hour. Away from human commotion. Away from societal intervention. Into a life without judgment, and run. Run like I used to. With a visible finishing line!

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