Disquieting Times

Dissatisfaction cannot be confined for too long from the world. The windows may be closed, but those curious ears pressed against them cannot be reprimanded for their behaviour.

The stormy eyes perceive the beautiful landscapes and morning sun to be too bright. The pacifying languages are all generalisations. Nostalgia becomes that strong nauseating aroma lingering around the house in a stubborn manner. The walls and cabinets, even the fresh sheets are not spared from its over-indulgences.

Some of the thoughts are like Siamese twins staring at each other for support, and even trying to understand that sense of identity to convey their individuality. Behind the closed doors and windows, a perception battle ensures long sessions of rigorous interrogation. One may not believe, this dichotomous existence is the most challenging battle one has to face. There’s no one else to bother, but yourself; being irksome to the reflection in the mirror is challenging.

Another tussle is between the stoic soul and hyper-active heart that is influenced by an overthinking mind. The morning tea loses its flavour and food becomes tasteless due to the overbearing presence of inimical aroma around the house. Walls overpowered and defeated by the morose feelings.

So many scattered feelings like abandoned toys strewn across the rooms; one may even stumble and fall. The circadian disruptions cause a long delusional phase. In such moments of despair, one forgets to differentiate between morning and night. Interests are many, but there seems to be lack of interest! There’s no one to shout out failures and successes, just mundane existence trying to solve the scattered thoughts.

There are no growing concerns when one goes missing, apart from intermittent discussions and conjectures, no one seems to care. The best part is the destruction of character with eloquent profanities and moralistic lectures.

Beyond the closed windows is the other side of suffering; the suffering is borne by humans, only to become a baneful existence. A world of fragile tolerance and a persistent battle with the self and with each other! So, the dissatisfaction behind the closed windows and doors are lesser demons?


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