{Why'd you have to be so clueless?.

20081129

11/29/2008 10:11:00 PM

Existence

I had spoken to a stranger for the whole of the week that had just been engulfed by time. It exuded an aura -- an aura that seemed so authentic and original -- and yet, this stranger never bothered to speak of his feelings to me.

I had recalled vividly the times that we had spent in those grueling sessions of aimless verbal sparring; I had also reminisced the moments of hatred and fear that was engraved bitterly in our hearts. He was, indeed, one heck of a guy with a heck of a problem.

He sat alone by my bedside while staring blankly at a cream coloured wall that was very much stained by months of dirt and such. He was a peculiar chap; the stranger had always lingered wherever I went, regardless of my attitude that was displayed to shun his presence. It had been years since I met him, but only recently had he started to speak to me.

He was about my age, perhaps a little younger than me, and he'd tell me all about his thoughts whenever I felt disturbed by my surroundings. He was a wise figure for his age, always speaking of ancient lore and what we could learn from the mistakes of the past.
With a dazed look, he stared back at me the other day, and muttered, 'the world is vast with sinners, an abundance; I have seen much, and so have you,' he paused to stare at the wall yet again and continued without looking back, 'you chose a path of no return; a belief that no sage or savant had ever treaded upon, yet you have failed yourself -- you have failed me...'

I was startled by his choice of words. It was so very much like that of what a prophecy would reveal to fortune-tellers in their 'pirated' crystal balls of blasphemy. I was staring out through the window at that moment when he cocked his head to pierce me with those brown, lifeless pupils. All of a sudden, tears had welled up within the tiny facets of his eyes. His expression had broken into a frown of sympathy and angst...

***

Abstraction

He rose to his feet and dragged them heavily across the bedroom floor to his work desk. Tears had ran dry from his now sunken and swollen eyebags while his mind was still groggy over those disturbing words. He remained in silence as he fished out an A4-sized hard-cover book from his bag and placed it on the table top. It was supposed to be a decorated asset that he possessed, and it certainly was decorated -- wrapped with brown paper with some coded language that was handwritten on its front cover back then.

My head hurts, he thought, but I must continue writing, to fulfil my dreams and to speak a language that the world would understand.
Without a delay, he picked out a blue Pilot™ ballpoint pen from his black cylindrical pencil case and held it within his right hand before muttering, 'please grant me the inspiration to carry on.'

*Silence*

It came; the breeze of emotions whirled within his mind -- he had to pen it down at once!

The songs I sang, a monotone;
For my life that's left alone.
A future to me was shone;
Emotions tattered, torn, unknown

If only he had known; if only he had realized the identity of the companion he had till now... He would have probably been unable to compose lines anymore.

***

Existence

I was staring at him, and that he was me, staring straight back at me; from the mirror