With the sad excuse for a bus heading slowly but surely to my destination, to my brilliantly decorated mental confinement, and with all that is wrong with the public’s musical taste screeching in my ears beyond what sane humans consider as loud, I decide to reflect on my wants, my needs and a year I barely survived, a year that masterfully destroyed my soul only to rebuild it from the wreckage it had become, by chance, by choice or by divine design.
During this rather prolonged time of reflection, I could merely identity three intense and course-changing times; First was my, thankfully, short work experience, wherein I only existed as a number among many in the lowest of the low of the corporate food chain, the time when a death wish did not seem that unreasonable.
The second was my long awaited personal achievement, the one that justified my presence in this wretched existence, that moment in time that finally conquered my apathetic and rather lethargic mask and sent it back to oblivion, all in due time.
The third was ‘Her’, the mythical stranger who never failed to inspire my pen, my papers and my words to create worlds beyond human recognition, realms beyond mortal definition and meadows in the barren spirit of mine.
I still wander, aimless, held together by my want that never wanted, my need that’s partially fulfilled, the dim, darkened past, the ambiguous, unseen future, the one that was, the one that is and the one far from reach, far from home and far away from all that forms the pretentious, conflicted I.
Hand with Reflecting Sphere by M. C. Escher