One more lonely soul

Stray thoughts

Insignificance. That’s all she has ever known in the many years that have dragged her from her childhood to this decaying age of senility. Somehow, the time changed its routine and swallowed up her youth. She was stuck in time, walking down the corridors of her illusions and fantasies, trying to ‘live’, striving to figure out a meaning to the world and its people who more than often ignored her very existence. She was a little girl looking out for little love in the little things that life brought to her doors. The eyes that shined so bright once, now stare blankly and aimlessly around her. She wondered why the very people she loved, rebuked and neglected her. Loneliness was the one thing she felt familiar with.  Maybe, she only wanted someone to acknowledge the fact that she was there, in that transient moment of time, look at her as a person, not a patient, not an enemy, not a subject of all the sympathy in the world. Just a few moments of kind compassion and the comfort of unsaid words and the understanding reflected in the eyes. Maybe all she wanted was a little bit of the love which we give out so very selectively.

 

This is not some exaggerated tale of a forsaken person who goes through the ordinary problems of day to day life. This is the story of a girl who never got to be a woman. A teenage girl, stuck in the body of a forty-five year old woman, confused and frustrated with anything and everything. People claim to take care of her, yes, all her physical needs are met. She is fed and clothed and she sleeps on a warm, dry bed every night. But no one dares venture into the deep blackness that has settled on her eyes, and probably her soul. The years, they managed to claw out her beauty, give her that empty look which deftly hides the thoughts and feelings storming inside. But the soul, dripping of innocence and blind trust and compassion, it shines through her eyes. It amazes me to think how that spark of hope survived when all around her, its her own people pushing and shouting and talking in those pathetic tones of love they probably don’t feel anymore. That is courage. Or maybe that is the compensation, fate thought justified enough to give to her. Can anything compensate for a life lived fully?

 

Blessed we are. Blessed we will always be. For there are people who never step out of their beds, who never manage to walk in the sunny summer morning, who never adore a single sight of nature, who never dance to a melody, who never understand a thing at all. Courage manifests itself in all possible forms in every possible way. Knowingly or unknowingly, some of us try to step on it and move on. Nothing can be more cowardly and sinful an act.

 

And it is courage, that conquers all.  If only the self-less will to act exists, the world has hope, for the times where there will be more of love and less of hate and when things will not be a curse but a blessing of fate.

Author's Note

Resuming to write after a long time.

Reviews

[∂αʌ<..]

and should i say, what a come back!
you hit through me to the heart with this little story here Siya!
amazing...got a few unshed tears but now, thats one amazing stray-thoughts you've ever put to paper...and i can relate or i can easily put myself in your shoes...and though i might not be the right person...i wanna say: just breathe,its gonna be ok...

magnificent story!

[SoulCrusader (Yas)]

What an amazing story, straight from the heart and hits me right in the heart. Awesomeness!!!

[compositionc]

That was amazingly written. So full. Just full. Nothing was lacking in the least bit. It was provoking. Wonderful. People can relate. Not their entire lives, but some parts.

[masqued_muse]

I find in this piece a part of someone I am still learning to love....myself. It is unique; it is poignant, it is truth. You do not need to cease creating. You are obviously....chosen.