I hope one day, I’ll get to know myself completely. There is nothing more interesting in this world. For me other than myself or at least to explore myself. It might seem quite selfish but everybody’s life revolves around one’s own self and others are just others. They may hold an important position in one’s life and some even die because of somebody’s sake but that’s all because they wanted them in their life, for their own peace of mind, their own peace of life and for their own pleasure, except for a very few ones.
So when I look at myself closely putting everybody aside, keeping their judgement on me at one side and my expectations from them at another side. I find myself at last. But there is not just a single me; there are many. And there is a slight difference between all. There is one that I appear to be from outside, then the one that I am from inside and then some intermediate stages of me. Sometimes I become someone because of somebody who I love, sometimes someone for somebody I hate and sometimes for someone I feel confused between love and hatred. They are all me, but yet still not me at all.
Then I assume that I may actually be what I am from inside. So when I’m trying to search myself from inside, I find a grave silence. There’s no answer and there never was. But this silence is not silent at all. Although it doesn’t tell me what I want to hear. But it tells me a different story. It doesn’t let me close my eyes, doesn’t let me sleep, instead it wakes me up from my peaceful slumber. The slumber that I go into, feeling the assurance that I’m not alone and there are people around I find comfort in, their noises that I hear put me to sleep, take me into a peaceful state, its sleep but yet not sleep; it’s peace to my soul stopping it from getting restless.
But when these voices outside end, I hear an awful silence. This silence speaks and it speaks even more louder , they are voices unheard from past, somebody’s laugh, somebody’s cry, may be those voices,cries, laughs are my own,but they all so mixed up. I hear them ringing in my head but I can’t make out their meaning. I cover my ears with my hands, trying to get them out but they still don’t stop. Like as if these voices trying to tell me something, something that I missed out before and must listen to, something I did wrong and must undo, something I don’t know and must be aware of or something that I’m doing right now which I ought not to…
Its like I’m haunted inside, and this keeps me from delving deep.