Language of the Lost

Language of the Lost

“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive.

James Baldwin

I know how you feel; yeah well it happens for a reason; you are losing it; for God sake! Have a heart; there are many examples worse than yours; stop complaining; look what your negativity is doing to all of us; you are just impossible; this is being ungrateful you know; I had faced far worse things than this and never behaved like you are doing; Fine! Remain like this; who care any ways; you know it’s this kind of attitude that people don‟t like you; you should get a hobby; just simply ignore it.

The human that is I, prepares a noose in a damp dark room, hangs it on the sturdy ceiling fan and lies down upon the couch near the window where a shimmering ray of light illuminates the single twisting rope hanging from the fan. I am in complete control of my physical well-being. It is the consciousness that needs assistance at the moment. As I watch the noose and dwell within my imagination, I devise scenarios in which the end of me shall impale the stagnancy of inconsiderate world. I relish upon the realistic yet fictitious thought that would create an impact upon the forever intruding-never-helping-people. A shock maybe a little screaming; some weeping, maybe a lot of everything or maybe a lot of nothing. I smile a crooked broken smile. I walk towards the noose, remove it, caress it and hide it deep into the darkness of my closet. Before unlocking the door, I fix my appearance of natural to artificial with a fear of people finding the real myself.

Such a dismal, complicated and ruthless this world is, I thought to myself as I strode down the flight of stairs. It tests the physical resilience and mental stamina of everyone and everything. Even the iron rots when exposed to the environment for too long. How do these people keep a straight face and act such normal? Maybe I should take acting classes or take political science as a major; I grimaced at the last thought. It started suddenly and ambushed me in the most abrasive, unexpected manner. What I learned from all the information available on internet and numerous self-help books after I recovered from the sense of vulnerability, that I was suddenly stranded upon an island only inhabited by me with not a glimmer of understanding to accompany me in this untoward situation. Yet there was hope nonetheless, a hope of “Maybe”.

Alas! What a hope it was which reciprocated to almost nothingness if truth be told. But still it was better than completely nothing. I realized that I was not special, I was not abnormal and especially I was never alone. The stages of realization and self-exploration were more like the five stages of grief. I also discovered that this mysterious sickness came with an expiration date, an expiration of the poor inflicted. During those self-absorbent days I remember most vividly that the emotions that overcame me were of shame, confusion, despair and hilarity. I found it to be the most amusing of the facts that depression made people distant, distracted, down and deadly. Funny how the human mind work or should I say the sub-consciousness of the person works in mysterious ways. Dilemma for me was the inadequacy of myself. I lumbering here and there, disturbed slumber with dreams composed of dichotomy.

Sometimes the dreams materialized in the form of me falling through vivid various light colored clouds. The mind was rebelling against me, stabbing me in the back again and again. The enmity of the world was always in pursuit, vigilant for any evidence of weakness, like a hungry hyena waiting for its prey to succumb so it could feed off it. It reminded me of all the hours spent near the sea shore as its waves caressed my feet, gently pulling the soft sand beneath my feet so I would stumble and follow my demise. The world had me convinced of its apocalyptic end due to its gradual transcendence into hate and selfishness. So I thought to myself to jump ship before it drags me down along with itself. The media drenched in the everyday atrocities and injustice, people instead of getting disgusted by the foul entertainment got even more entranced. Because of the sick sadistic need of the masses to see the dismal events media flourished on their viewer rating by fueling their addiction further and further. I never really understood as to why the people in general did what they usually do. Why this strange horrible desire to watch the misery of others instead helping them out. Maybe it’s in our nature, maybe we take joy in the fact that we are safe or God knows why?

Be friends or family, they look at me with exclaimed appreciation and why not? I am always the life of party. Someone expects me to crack a joke, I do; someone expects understanding, I am full of positivity, lies and hypocrisy; someone expects anything from me, I am there, standing, obedient. Most of the time which is almost all the time, I feel as if I am moving against the thrashing tides of time. If there is uniformity then I am a deformity, in the midst of normal I am abnormal. These feelings arose from my subconscious to conscious without me realizing. My solitude was my greatest friend and my enemy. It cradled me into its bosom slowly detaching me from everyone and everything. There I pondered and explored my being, discovered things I never knew about me. I found out that I am not that useless what I deemed myself to be. I needed expression and for that I befriended books. Strange that a piece of wood etched upon with symbols and words could become so full of life & soul. While drifting, sifting and wading across the sea of my thoughts I found the presence of my Creator. So strong and full of gravity are His signs yet I failed to sense or feel them completely. What I lacked was the ability to see beyond the fog and towards all distractions. The conspiracies, scientific craft, logical interpretations, proof and evidences of men were the fog which blinds us all. The point is not to get specifically fixated in some field instead and divulge oneself into everything and knowledge. If one knows a lot about something and nothing about everything else, how can he compile a reasoning of full complete understanding?

My thoughts behaved like a container full of too much contents ready to explode anytime, explode it did once I became curious of what was inside it. The relentless flow surrounded me, I drowned in my thought slowly but did not perish instead the small strong feeling of the Creator grew more and more. I became thirsty for answers and everything became immensely interesting. I was more curious than the cat, that did not worry me since I had already killed myself, more than nine times at least and yet came back stronger than ever. I took to the world’s web of information, insignificant things, hidden information, books, What & Whys. Life became difficult after that self-adventure, it grew troublesome, I became an outspoken clearly visible outcast. Suddenly became the person of smiles to a critter of frowns. Questions and general information were not the typical normal behavior. To be inquisitive in a world like ours represents an impediment like no other, after all nobody likes a know-it-all, even though that know-it-all knows just a fraction of knowledge more than the accusers.

Worst what I perceived was the inadequacy and ignorance of almost everyone was deliberately masked by the impregnable fortress of arrogance. It didn’t matter how much wrong, misguided and ignorant a person was, his ego will be a titan among him. Psychology states,“The first step towards achieving personal growth is self-realization”. Well the ego decimates the first step and infects the personality with a false self-confidence, pretense, façade and misguided faith in oneself. While the prophets, leaders and strong personalities consistently strive for self-betterment and education. Not once they stopped and thought that maybe our struggle to gain knowledge is over. Instead they always considered themselves students of knowledge that fueled their thirst for intellect. The latter lot is a complete contradiction to the first. So, I think to myself that if ignorant have lost the voice of reason then to whom should I plea. The answer I found was the source of all; the One who has created.

The full moon shimmered above in the starry sky, a breath of fresh air stunned my senses in a pleasing way. I always loved the smell of wet sand and fresh green grass, worldly pleasures of a simple man I suppose. These were the sweet distraction and an outlet for my imprisoned mind. As I deliberated into my surroundings I thought of this world and prayed for the afterlife. This life is just too damn difficult, I hope the next one would be peaceful; I faked a smiled as my family joined me at the grassy patch full of roses and thorns.

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