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The Curse of Words...




Often being misunderstood by dozens of people around me, I always feel literally unique. Am I so different from others that I need a dictionary to be tattooed on my body? Not being convincing to people in terms of love, care or affection, it always ends up being misinterpreted as levity of a stonehearted and emotionless farm full of weeds known as friends. I never keep any damn formalities with friends (as they prefer it) and that is how I am supposed to be in the circle, and when I am with my family, I try not to roam around meeting friends. If any such urgency arrives, either I call them home or they call me later, but never did I try to intrude their priorities and even if I did (knowingly or unknowingly), I’d not regret it because after all, they are friends.

The only problem I had was when I admired someone’s flair in the field of media and tried to be an apprentice of words. I wanted to use words as my blood and bones, but the curse turned these words itself against me. I never even imagined that I would repent for being blessed with words. I am receptive enough to accept the mistakes I make (even grammatical) at every phase of my life. One mistake I did was I left out (missed) my colleague from the bus during our tour and had moved ahead. The loneliness of those 5 minutes for her has been a million times more appalling on my part. I wish I could take back the time machine and change so many things in my life. It was equally killing the liveliness in me that I am not being responding to the emotions expressed by them.

As a person in the same job, for a long time, for the first time, I too had lots of transition problems and wasn’t able to express the right way to the right person. That was again misunderstood as, I was being a stranger to all the emotions and moreover, I wasn’t being me. I always am myself and I would never change, unless I am forced to. I remain the same as a ‘Target ‘kept in the Shooting Grounds. Only the soldiers who fire their emotions on me change their positions. For me; only my sight changes and not the vision. The one’s I love, I’ll always love them wherever they are, whatever they do to me. The one’s, who despise me, will have a chance to lose me with their point blank shots. I am meant to be shot dead one day, either by words, or deeds, or just by mere silence of my beloved ones, if not today, then tomorrow, sooner or later. RIP to me and God Bless Y’All…

Comments

northenlights said…
Chiselled works of the wordsmith
They aint paens of sorrow
The curse of words will wither away
There's always a bright tomorrow
April 1, 2011 at 2:52 AM
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