Let the Hamster speak:
*squeak squeak squeak*
(Hamsters exits stage left)
There is quite a lot on my mind that I would like to share. Even more that I would rather not share. But I am here just to revive my blog. To see if I am finally ready to resume writing.
April 2010 was not a good time for me. I lost a part of myself. A very integral part. A caring, kind, passionate, loving, pure, clever, smart, intelligent, adorable, shy, warm, (insert all the superlatives of all the positive adjectives), part of me. One that I will never forget. A part that drove me like nothing else does. A part that made me who I am today. All this time I had locked up that grief and loss deep inside of me.
I spent a long time being very harsh to everyone immediately after the incident. Then like a crowbar my mother forcibly pried open my armadillo shell using the only chink in my armour. I don't think even she realised how bad she made me feel about how rude I had become. I don't think she ever will.
Things returned to an apparent normality. My job kept me busy and when I was not working my limited interactions with human beings kept me docile to the untrained eye. A year went by and life along with time kept moving on. I never let myself the time to embrace my darkest sorrow yet in life. There was so much more to be happy about. So much more that needed to be done. I learned quite a few valuable lessons about facades, masks, illusions, shells, ego, id and all the psychological stuff that goes with it. True I am not an expert but I learnt enough to start manipulating things around me. All it would take was a nudge. The only requirement. But it didn't mean I would get the results I wanted. I learned to work with that as well.
Then I fell in love with my best friend. Life seemed to be taking a turn for the better, despite my pretence I was finally starting to feel emotions that I would let play in front of others. My lies were finally starting to irk my morality. My conscious self was starting to have a war with my subconscious mind. After living a lie I had become a lie. Not a word I would speak would be the truth in its entire form. Always things hidden and squared away in the corner of my mind. Yet everywhere I look they want absolute transparency. All the more reason to keep things locked up inside. Yet here I am divulging my deepest darkest inner workings to you in the form of a blog that the whole world will read.
To return to the point, just when colour had returned to my black and white life, the colour was taken from again. This trauma more than ever offset any armour I could create for myself. It was not a force from the outside trying to find a chink in my chain mail. It was a strike from within. Just as I return to my black and white world a new shade of grey seeps into it. The sorrow that I had kept shackled in an abyss burst through but not as explosively as a dam. Rather with infinitely more subtle means. A sigh here or a grunt there or even a day dream elsewhere.
This sorrow tinges my black and white world. The world I have now come to love because I have spent so much time in it anything else would be alien to me. This sorrow paints a third colour on my world: a grey hue. Unlike the ease of perception and illusion in colour this shade of grey compels me to develop a new sense of depth and perception. At times it also helps disillusion myself from the fantasies that had been portrayed for me or by me.
This grey that I kept hidden from sight is now my best friend. Maybe one day it too will abandon me. But till then its the only friend I have who remains with me even when I am among my human friends. This hue that covers me in its shade will never be forgotten. For it represents the infinite chromatics that were before it. And it will be with me when colour returns to me again, if at all.
*squeak squeak squeak*
(Hamsters exits stage left)
There is quite a lot on my mind that I would like to share. Even more that I would rather not share. But I am here just to revive my blog. To see if I am finally ready to resume writing.
April 2010 was not a good time for me. I lost a part of myself. A very integral part. A caring, kind, passionate, loving, pure, clever, smart, intelligent, adorable, shy, warm, (insert all the superlatives of all the positive adjectives), part of me. One that I will never forget. A part that drove me like nothing else does. A part that made me who I am today. All this time I had locked up that grief and loss deep inside of me.
I spent a long time being very harsh to everyone immediately after the incident. Then like a crowbar my mother forcibly pried open my armadillo shell using the only chink in my armour. I don't think even she realised how bad she made me feel about how rude I had become. I don't think she ever will.
Things returned to an apparent normality. My job kept me busy and when I was not working my limited interactions with human beings kept me docile to the untrained eye. A year went by and life along with time kept moving on. I never let myself the time to embrace my darkest sorrow yet in life. There was so much more to be happy about. So much more that needed to be done. I learned quite a few valuable lessons about facades, masks, illusions, shells, ego, id and all the psychological stuff that goes with it. True I am not an expert but I learnt enough to start manipulating things around me. All it would take was a nudge. The only requirement. But it didn't mean I would get the results I wanted. I learned to work with that as well.
Then I fell in love with my best friend. Life seemed to be taking a turn for the better, despite my pretence I was finally starting to feel emotions that I would let play in front of others. My lies were finally starting to irk my morality. My conscious self was starting to have a war with my subconscious mind. After living a lie I had become a lie. Not a word I would speak would be the truth in its entire form. Always things hidden and squared away in the corner of my mind. Yet everywhere I look they want absolute transparency. All the more reason to keep things locked up inside. Yet here I am divulging my deepest darkest inner workings to you in the form of a blog that the whole world will read.
To return to the point, just when colour had returned to my black and white life, the colour was taken from again. This trauma more than ever offset any armour I could create for myself. It was not a force from the outside trying to find a chink in my chain mail. It was a strike from within. Just as I return to my black and white world a new shade of grey seeps into it. The sorrow that I had kept shackled in an abyss burst through but not as explosively as a dam. Rather with infinitely more subtle means. A sigh here or a grunt there or even a day dream elsewhere.
This sorrow tinges my black and white world. The world I have now come to love because I have spent so much time in it anything else would be alien to me. This sorrow paints a third colour on my world: a grey hue. Unlike the ease of perception and illusion in colour this shade of grey compels me to develop a new sense of depth and perception. At times it also helps disillusion myself from the fantasies that had been portrayed for me or by me.
This grey that I kept hidden from sight is now my best friend. Maybe one day it too will abandon me. But till then its the only friend I have who remains with me even when I am among my human friends. This hue that covers me in its shade will never be forgotten. For it represents the infinite chromatics that were before it. And it will be with me when colour returns to me again, if at all.
