Sometimes I wonder why am I doing this. Is it just to convince myself, if things go wrong, that I was right in believing they would? Is it about running away from the responsibility that comes with taking a decision? Is it a fear that things really would go wrong?
I continue to maintain that it is not my decision. I continue to maintain that I'm ambivalent on the matter. It is their decision - they want it. All of them. My mind says go with it - I will not find what I'm looking for anyway, so let everyone else be happy. As long as they are happy atleast I'll have that satisfaction.
But, my soul continues to be detached. The heart doesn't say no. But it refuses to get involved. I guess it doesn't want to be broken. Or I guess she's just not the kind that it can attach to. So if she ever starts desiring the heart, she may be left disappointed. And things may just go wrong. And then there will be the need for a justification. And maybe this is that.
Or, this may be a suicide. A soul suicide. Creepy? Maybe. Maybe some part of me is making sure that the soul gets its freedom. And, probably, the only way is by killing it. By suffocating it. Surround it with those who don't care about it, those who don't even think of it. Maybe they don't even know that it exists.
The soul on the contrary, it seems, wants to live. Maybe it has hope. Or, maybe it knows or can see what the mind can't. But what is it? I know not. The moment I step out and think of it - all I can think of is that everyone around will be happy. Everyone but, perhaps, the ambivalent heart that refuses to speak up!
I continue to maintain that it is not my decision. I continue to maintain that I'm ambivalent on the matter. It is their decision - they want it. All of them. My mind says go with it - I will not find what I'm looking for anyway, so let everyone else be happy. As long as they are happy atleast I'll have that satisfaction.
But, my soul continues to be detached. The heart doesn't say no. But it refuses to get involved. I guess it doesn't want to be broken. Or I guess she's just not the kind that it can attach to. So if she ever starts desiring the heart, she may be left disappointed. And things may just go wrong. And then there will be the need for a justification. And maybe this is that.
Or, this may be a suicide. A soul suicide. Creepy? Maybe. Maybe some part of me is making sure that the soul gets its freedom. And, probably, the only way is by killing it. By suffocating it. Surround it with those who don't care about it, those who don't even think of it. Maybe they don't even know that it exists.
The soul on the contrary, it seems, wants to live. Maybe it has hope. Or, maybe it knows or can see what the mind can't. But what is it? I know not. The moment I step out and think of it - all I can think of is that everyone around will be happy. Everyone but, perhaps, the ambivalent heart that refuses to speak up!
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