Lost Wanderer…

‘A writer isn’t quiet when he’s silent, he’s quiet when he’s not writing.’

It’s not very long ago when the above mentioned words from my university fellow, Humayun Javed, got my attention stuck. And I kind of realized the reason behind my ‘numbness‘, ‘dumbness‘ and ‘dead silence‘. Or may be it was my own strong desire of being stifle and choke off which made inner walls get so high. I still don’t know what made me start writing, at first place, but what I know for sure is that writing is form of my personal freedom, self-exploration, catharsis and everything that keeps my mind away from being messed and confused. It becomes a source of establishing my connection with the world inside me, who I really am! But what can one write when he’s in conflicts with no one but himself?

I know I’m writing about myself ‘clearly and directly’ after a LONG time… and perhaps it was LEAST possible thing I had ever imagined to do. Especially now, when I am not even sure that I remember how to write or not. I’m not even sure that whether this all will make sense or not, but I still want to try. Just few moments ago, a friend writer of mine, Salman Saeed, that either emotions push us to get back to our medium for expression of soul or some motivation, and I so felt like replying to him that sometimes it’s the ‘fear‘ mixed with ‘hope‘ which forces us to hold the only straw that can keep us from drowning… the only fragile thread to stitch us with our identity!

Identity is a strange word, and let us not even get into discussion which can lead to fogged identity. Let us get back to where we were… Self-Conflict, that was! It’s a famous saying that , ‘The torment of human frustration, whatever its immediate cause, is the knowledge that the self is in prison, its vital force and “mangled mind” leaking away in lonely, wasteful self-conflict’. And this realization of being inside penitentiary 24/7 can be as pinching as one can ever imagine it to be…

Every day I wake up in the morning, and wonder what will I be able to do with drained energies and extinguished passions? Every moment, I wonder about the mask I have to wear for whole day, trying to escape from what I feel, to feel normal amongst others. However at the end of the day, whenever I try lying inside my own penitentiary and stand in front of the mirror of self-realization , I see a weird girl. A girl, who is somewhat unknown to me. I look at her closely and I notice teary eyes with deep dark emptiness around them. Not to forget that the weary smile turns into trembling lips. While I observe this all, I notice a tiny drop of water trickling down her cheek and I ask myself ‘Is this me ?

During the whole day, the fight with myself continues… the hauntings have been part of my life from a whole year and they seem to be embedded in every aspect of my life… I hope to be a ‘warrior’ but that’s not possible with ‘spirits on last breaths’.

They say, ‘All who wander are not lost’… But perhaps, I’m turning to be one of the lost cases

If possible, remember me in prayers please.