I judge people a lot. Quite often, I believe that these judgements are more a work of fiction than that of philosophy. It is a little more satisfying that way. There is a person I can't stop thinking about. I tell myself a lot that I do not want to write about him. There are various reasons for it, but I assume that should be reserved for another day.
For now, I just think I would let myself bask in the satisfaction of wording the thoughts I have collated. A part of me still can't believe I am grinning this minute. Another part of me says, "give it time".
I've allowed myself indulge in a variety of vices. Far too many and far too often. Quite often the reason for the same has been the quest for my share of sanity / peace. However, this little vice, is way more addictive than I would have ever thought.
He's a lot like water, I believe. I'd like to call him so. He is just as basic and transparent; just as calm and yet, just as unforgiving. He could be passionate, he could be fierce, he could be all that I wish he were. There are moments one can feel that he shows you the glimpse of what it could be, only to tarnish (read: destroy beyond recognition) your borders of content. And once the placid reality seems but an illusion, he resorts to being a live display of all that once was.
His absence would take a lot time to get used to; not that it matters, but to me it doesn't even seem practical to be able to get used to it.
He could soothe me or drown me, the poise would not have to be tampered with. There was a time he revealed that he could eliminate people from memory, only the ones that rightly deserve so. I could see a part of me running to each corner of the planet and hopping with the joy of being a confidant, the one to who he spoke his heart and his salient quirks, his fond memories and scariest fears. If one was around, one would notice the imaginary fireworks.
..... Yet, there was this other and the larger part of me (a.k.a. the wimpy little kid), who was running to every corner of the planet to find a nook where she could hide from the fear of being the eliminated.
He's a one that is essential, often dismissed as something ordinary. If you ask me, I cannot fathom how all humans pass by him everyday, living their mundane chores and not be astonished by all that is him.
If them all could see what I do right now, you'd realize his relevance that is par ordinaire. I don't think he realizes how relevant he can be. I don't think anyone does. The art of making sense out of chaos, a feat that not many people could notice (only because they could not believe it existed, ah! little did they know!), a feat that he has remarkably mastered but is only put to display at will.. it makes him a vice that I wish I was never acquainted to; given the fact that now that I know him, the days I've spent not knowing him only seem partially sensible.
He, often, makes you feel at ease. Pours himself into your stream of thought and identifies the segment that needed it the most. Before you even realize, he would have helped you sustain and he'd be gone. One could guess that he did not do it intentionally. Probably to him, he just did what he is innately meant to.
He'd easily be my kryptonite without me wishing for it. (Well, kryptonite is an over-statement. But what do you call the element that you love to belong to, but want to stay away from and yet, you can't do either). When you categorize him as one, you'd notice that he is just a basic element. It is only ironical that the very "basic-ness" of him is empowering. To add to the metaphor, if you've ever seen anything on fire, you'd know that it is the initial droplets of water that combust into it, but in a very subtle manner, eat into its ferociousness. Add a little more water, the fire would succumb to the force of the calm. All surplus of water, poured thereafter, is but unnecessary and exists only for the sake of it. To derive an adequate simile, he is just as much water that was ever needed to put the fire to shame.
He, who one would not dream to emulate; for he flows to the past most driven by what he calls passion but seems gravity to most. He cares for the invalids, he notices what one believes to be petty. He has an eye for detail that most chose to avoid. In ways more than one, he is around everything he would wish to be, as well as everything he could live without. He intends to devote his might to correct all that is inappropriate. But time and tide aren't allowed to wait, are they?
In the essence of it, he is very simple. One wouldn't need a manual to know how to work with him. Just like he wouldn't need a manual / guideline to see anyone like he knows their most deepest fears, desires, and everything else that defines. Every time I see him, I do not know if I should notice the depth (and the dark) in his eyes or the smile that could light the town. It is just as paradoxical as it is calming.
I have never struggled for words as much as I do to conclude this. I would want to conclude this piece with a genuine equivalent of him (obviously, tantamount to water). But he is all that water can be - a drizzle, a rain or a hurricane. It will only depend on how scorched one is as a landscape.
When I think of it, believe the only apt way to conclude this would be to leave it without an end, just like unrequited love, with the possibility of an endless potential. In a lot of ways, I believe this is it.
For now, I just think I would let myself bask in the satisfaction of wording the thoughts I have collated. A part of me still can't believe I am grinning this minute. Another part of me says, "give it time".
I've allowed myself indulge in a variety of vices. Far too many and far too often. Quite often the reason for the same has been the quest for my share of sanity / peace. However, this little vice, is way more addictive than I would have ever thought.
He's a lot like water, I believe. I'd like to call him so. He is just as basic and transparent; just as calm and yet, just as unforgiving. He could be passionate, he could be fierce, he could be all that I wish he were. There are moments one can feel that he shows you the glimpse of what it could be, only to tarnish (read: destroy beyond recognition) your borders of content. And once the placid reality seems but an illusion, he resorts to being a live display of all that once was.
His absence would take a lot time to get used to; not that it matters, but to me it doesn't even seem practical to be able to get used to it.
He could soothe me or drown me, the poise would not have to be tampered with. There was a time he revealed that he could eliminate people from memory, only the ones that rightly deserve so. I could see a part of me running to each corner of the planet and hopping with the joy of being a confidant, the one to who he spoke his heart and his salient quirks, his fond memories and scariest fears. If one was around, one would notice the imaginary fireworks.
..... Yet, there was this other and the larger part of me (a.k.a. the wimpy little kid), who was running to every corner of the planet to find a nook where she could hide from the fear of being the eliminated.
He's a one that is essential, often dismissed as something ordinary. If you ask me, I cannot fathom how all humans pass by him everyday, living their mundane chores and not be astonished by all that is him.
If them all could see what I do right now, you'd realize his relevance that is par ordinaire. I don't think he realizes how relevant he can be. I don't think anyone does. The art of making sense out of chaos, a feat that not many people could notice (only because they could not believe it existed, ah! little did they know!), a feat that he has remarkably mastered but is only put to display at will.. it makes him a vice that I wish I was never acquainted to; given the fact that now that I know him, the days I've spent not knowing him only seem partially sensible.
He, often, makes you feel at ease. Pours himself into your stream of thought and identifies the segment that needed it the most. Before you even realize, he would have helped you sustain and he'd be gone. One could guess that he did not do it intentionally. Probably to him, he just did what he is innately meant to.
He'd easily be my kryptonite without me wishing for it. (Well, kryptonite is an over-statement. But what do you call the element that you love to belong to, but want to stay away from and yet, you can't do either). When you categorize him as one, you'd notice that he is just a basic element. It is only ironical that the very "basic-ness" of him is empowering. To add to the metaphor, if you've ever seen anything on fire, you'd know that it is the initial droplets of water that combust into it, but in a very subtle manner, eat into its ferociousness. Add a little more water, the fire would succumb to the force of the calm. All surplus of water, poured thereafter, is but unnecessary and exists only for the sake of it. To derive an adequate simile, he is just as much water that was ever needed to put the fire to shame.
He, who one would not dream to emulate; for he flows to the past most driven by what he calls passion but seems gravity to most. He cares for the invalids, he notices what one believes to be petty. He has an eye for detail that most chose to avoid. In ways more than one, he is around everything he would wish to be, as well as everything he could live without. He intends to devote his might to correct all that is inappropriate. But time and tide aren't allowed to wait, are they?
In the essence of it, he is very simple. One wouldn't need a manual to know how to work with him. Just like he wouldn't need a manual / guideline to see anyone like he knows their most deepest fears, desires, and everything else that defines. Every time I see him, I do not know if I should notice the depth (and the dark) in his eyes or the smile that could light the town. It is just as paradoxical as it is calming.
I have never struggled for words as much as I do to conclude this. I would want to conclude this piece with a genuine equivalent of him (obviously, tantamount to water). But he is all that water can be - a drizzle, a rain or a hurricane. It will only depend on how scorched one is as a landscape.
When I think of it, believe the only apt way to conclude this would be to leave it without an end, just like unrequited love, with the possibility of an endless potential. In a lot of ways, I believe this is it.
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