A Conversation With Life

Silence.

   A complete stillness in the surroundings, almost meditative, relaxing.

   It's 3:35AM precisely. Peace and quiet time, I should say. And yes, this is another night that requires a slight flexing of brain, spirit, and fingers.

   The inner and outer world in muted suppression—no cars passing by, no dogs barking triumphantly, no birds chirping in hymn, not even the familiar flush of wind has made itself present.

   The perfect setting for creation.

   Me, myself, and I, and this soul-sucking device in my hand.

   I must confess that I'm undoubtedly, but figuratively a night owl. A night owl who loves to prey on the juicy topics that one would either find interesting, or boring. But tonight I'd like to go about things differently. Tonight, I am an interrogator, and the suspect in questioning will be one of the greatest mysteries of the universe, Life.

   With a crackle of knuckles, I started my interrogation: Life, couldn't you be a tad bit easier, less daunting, less painful, simple and without the unexpected turns? (In some similar shape or form, along the same lines, you've asked yourself this exact question. You've wondered why Life for you was difficult, excruciating and exasperating even to the breaking point—the "I hate Life," point.)

   Why Life, are you filled with both dark and light, depression and joy, tears and smiles? Is it fun for you, Life, to toy with our emotions, to bring us up and tear us down in a single blink of the imaginary eye?

   If Life was an entity that bore a mind of its own, I'd like to imagine His/Hers/Its response would be something like this: Yes, hooman. Experience the beauty of me, Life. Here, have a taste of happiness, joy, love, and when you're absolutely content that you've reached the peak of Life, I will take it all away, happiness and everything. I will plunge you head-first into the deep abyss and trick you into believing that the world you live in is against you, where depression itself writhes in agony, where loneliness is a blessing, where death is an option, where living is not. To beg for mercy would be to give up. At times you'll find yourself crying in pain, believing that doom and gloom is all that remains at the end of what seems a perpetual tunnel. But know this, for if I was to be lenient, and if all you knew was the good of me, then you'd never know what it means to truly live. I am a journey with surprises and lessons at every twist and turn. You look to the skies and ask for guidance, to which I say, 'face your fears, swallow your pain, leave and vow to never return.' There is strength and understanding in my brutal ways. The choice is yours, though. To live, is to learn. And to learn, is to live.

P.S. I wrote this a while back but couldn't help but feel a certain attachment to this piece. I hope you all enjoyed reading it, as much as I did writing it. This post was one of those "In The Zone" writings, where the mind becomes lucid and the words flow naturally onto the paper.