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One times one

When your latest resolution in life goes something like “try and not sleep with friends and people who mean a lot to you,” the connotations are staggering since you could not sleep with strangers in the first place anyway. In a way, you can consider this more as your own sanity’s spaceship (the other one – morality – exploded mid-flight long ago) sending mildly panicky messages back to earth.

“Houston, we have a problem.” And a mighty complicated one at that too. It could have been termed as a life so interesting, only if it was not half as funny as it sounds. Seriously, there should be a default number of attempts at solving a problem available to all of humanity, after which, even out of pity, the problem should resolve by itself. I think that’s a fair enough deal, don’t you think so?

It is not the easiest thing to step back or stand aside from the only meaning, be it transient or misplaced, that you have to cling on to interpret your actions in life. Thankfully, robust and important players, like objectivity and purpose, have returned to the stage. Anger, in the meantime, has played its important part and what a stellar performance that was too. I guess the drama is indeed quite a spectacle; only that it is anything but that when the stage is your mind and the players are elements that constitute your self.

On the other hand, withdrawal need not always be a spectacle, nor should it always be noticed. You can slink away in a million different ways and still be around in the same twenty different ways. And it is not like it has not been done before, but this time it is different. Bridges left uncrossed till recently are now a faded vision in the past. This, in all probability, is territory that we shall never cover again. I guess some equations were changed; a few victories were won and some were lost. The sum of all that maneuvering though remains unchanged. Is that not strange? Maybe it is not.

Meanwhile, the weather is brilliant and the rooms bask in a mildly golden glow of a new, cheap lamp that I’ve grown very fond of. But I don’t like being home much these days, even when most of life is as perfect as it could ever get to be. Sometimes I do feel like a part of me has left me, leaving this shell for someone else who is not me to live in for the rest its assigned life. There is moderation in most things and controlled excesses in others. Life is a fine balance. Life is a walk on the razor’s edge. Life is the fear of a fall on to insanity and irrelevance either side.

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