Years of solitude taught me
that solitude is bliss. I didn’t even realize that I was alone because
loneliness was my way of life. I was happy with myself. Thinking deep and
observing the World. I made friends with the swaying leaves. I was very happy
as there was no one to hurt me. Expectations were meager; hence, heart break was
alien. There was a smile not only in my face, but in my eyes too. My heart was
filled with melodies as I was untouched by the maladies.
People criticized me. My
silence remained as a topic of debate. Some thought that I was showing too much
of attitude. Some thought I would go through a deadly state of depression.
Everyone failed to understand that I was celebrating life. I lived in a World of my own. There were
dreams… Poems and loads of happiness! I used to write vigorously and read
extensively. Secrets were shared with my daily journal. Important events and
news were updated only to my parents. Life was simple. My World was small and
completely free from worries.
Sometimes, pearls of tears
used to roll down my cheeks. But, I would silently sit in a corner and pen down
my thoughts. I used to believe that those pearls are the gifts of God for
enduring solitude and for considering it as endearing.
But, as I grew older, my
social circles widened. I started meeting more people and started mingling with
them. New people came into my life and so did expectations. Also, emotional
attachment! Each one was special. Some were friends… Some filled the gap of a
sibling… If one was everything, someone else was charming. Some always
understood me… while some cared for me… Some criticized me… Some expected a lot
from me. I wanted to keep everyone happy. I started adapting to each one of
them. I customized myself to make them happy; to see them happy. More than love
and care for them, it was the fear of being rendered alone that prevailed over.
I started changing instead of evolving.
Heartbreaks followed… Tears
became unavoidable… Once blissful solitude seemed like a curse. I started
missing him and I wished she was beside me. I wondered why he walked away from
me and why she was always so self-obsessed. I didn’t understand why he never
understood me and why she always wanted me to move on.
I started thinking a lot. I spent
most of the time thinking what other people thought of me, rather than what I thought
about myself. The thoughts of others started to dominate and I lost interest in
myself.
And today, I am missing
those days when life was less complicated. During those days, people were not
around me. Yet, happiness was around me. Today, there are umpteen numbers of
people around me, but I am not feeling happy. I am feeling alone. I desperately
wish that I go back to my little diary instead of those tiny little hearts that
failed to understand me. I wish that I go out and watch the leaves dance with
glee than make a call to someone who doesn’t understand me. I wish that I could
close my eyes and think about something that would make me happy instead of
messaging someone.
I wish that sooner I realize
that solitude was indeed blissful and not the life that I am leading now. After
all, I am fed up faking. And my interest to convince and cajole people is
fading!
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