Sunday, 10 January 2016


When you are standing on the verge of experiencing loss, you lose your hold on sanity, nothing seems certain. It's like ripples that have been generated in the calmness of a lake. Like pendulums striking one another, willing an activity to take place.

Except amidst all that activity you find yourself still. Paused amongst chaos. Bent to the verge of breaking. Nobody knows but your Internet history is a record of the infinite articles you have read of the virus that infects your life. Your phone, a web of notes you've scribbled to hold on, trying to accept loss. You seek corners and get away from crowds and yet at times you want to lose yourself, will yourself out of the silence that withers you inside. And then there is you staring down the fourth storey, contemplating options.

And yet you find your eyes dry even though your heart weighs a ton. Loss. Loss takes away bits and pieces of you and leaves you with marks like hollows under your eyes and the inability to cry, to feel. It leaves you with a strangeness hard to decipher. It steals you of feelings and cripples you of life.