The crumbling bridge

If misery had a face I’m ready to believe it is smiling smugly right now. It knew all along that I’d inevitably choose to drown in its lightless and hopeless abyss without even putting up a fight to try to get to the surface. Now there just remains a painful wait to finally reach the bottom which, a good part of life has taught me, would never come. I should try to get out of this misery, one might wisely suggest. But the fact that I’d willingly walked into it has made it that much more difficult to get out. Not that I want to. Hopelessness has blinded me and I perceive nothing but a stark gaping void that mocks me with its perpetual presence. Misery has filled the void to its brim like dark waters encroaching dry low lands at the start of imminent floods. And I’ve welcomed the floods.

I had never imagined the lack of physical presence of certain souls would have such staggering consequences. I have no idea for how long I had convinced myself that I’d eventually learn to live with the void before sadly realizing I had been fooling myself.

Life has shifted its wheels to an unfamiliar terrain on which I tread warily. New and unpredictable commitments demand my reluctant attention and mutter disapproval at my attempts to look back at the times when different lives crossed paths regularly and intertwined easily. A few familiar voices assure me, coax me, and encourage me in vain to take things as they come, be grateful and move on. Some of those voices are laced with concern, some with impatience and some with exasperation. But they are all drowned out by the by the incessant, unfamiliar chatter that corrodes the peace of my mind and tests my patience. It is relentless in its purpose to prod and pry. At this point all I want to do is run away to a place where all my problems become redundant. I wish for all these distractions to just vanish forever. I crave for solitude not realizing it has already infested the dark waters of misery. My craving strengthens it as I slide helplessly into the clutches of loneliness. The mindless chatter prevails but it is the least of my problems now. Life goes on like a slow pointless dream as I struggle to conform to the new reality while my mind wanders aimlessly in the hopeful past. My struggle is futile, I’m taking all the wrong turns and misery smiles some more. I’ve inadvertently built for myself a world of cruel irony where loneliness that I’d once so fervently craved for has become the ultimate distraction.