I write this as I do not know what to write about. Random ideas cross my mind. But then I think, that Life can’t be written in words. Tiny words, impotent words. For writing, you should always know what to write about. There is always some object. You can’t just write. Need a topic.
I used to think words are too important. Language is everything. You should know how to convey yourself. That’s how you can live in the world. You cannot just fool around alone. You always need someone. That someone can be anyone; your friend, relative, milkman, post man or anybody. You need words and you need grammar to survive, to ask for your necessities, food, clothes and shelter. But I am afraid to say, words are not at all useful. Life, as I experienced it, cannot be said or written about. It can only be lived. But we still try to talk about it, gossip, chit chat…speak on the phone for hours…but, to dismay, nothing is really conveyed.
How can you talk a headache, or heartbreak, Can you? Can you talk about how you felt during your first kiss? You cannot. We try, don’t we? But it’s all failure. Things don’t stop here. It gets worse. We start taking words for their real meanings. We imagine realty while we deal with words. How many times have you actually felt and meant when you said those 3 magical words to your loved one? Are those words even magical now? Words are never magical. Realty gives them the magic. When somebody is in love for the first time, and had his first kiss, heart pounding with giant beats, utters it, he probably feels it. By saying those words, he is just trying to convey what he is feeling. That gives the meaning to the words, and all the charm, innocence and virginity. But we play safe now. We just stick to words. Person in the front is also probably conditioned the same way. You say the words, his mind is conditioned to understand, you really love him. He doesn’t even think about what you just said. He takes it for granted. He takes it for the real meaning. You dint mean it, but you played. It worked. You start lying. Your personality becomes faker everyday. You wear a lie all around you. You say things all day that you neither mean, and god forbid, nor understand? Is that what we call a life?
Life is more, friends. It is to be lived. To be enjoyed endlessly, in every little piece of moment we got. Life is short for those who spend time thinking about future and past and live disguised in lies, camouflaged. Life is eternity for ones who know how to live every moment. How to appreciate every tiny thing around us? How incomplete it would be even if the things we call, less significant, went missing? Leaves fallen on the ground are as important as the ones shining on the trees. Flowers dead are as beautiful as the ones dancing in the sun. They have their own beauty. They add something to the world. Throw them out and the world is dead. Darkness has its own beauty, just as Light has its own. Life is all around us, embracing from all sides and all corners. Words are meaningless. They just point towards something, try to convey the reality. Don’t consider the finger pointing to the Moon as Moon itself. Moon is far bigger, beautiful and divine. You should see it, for yourself.