A dead surmise

This is it. One step forward and the endless loop is broken. The need to put an end to myriad inconsequential affairs has never been so profound. Are we sure we are doing this? We should. This is our moment.

It is a lovely morning. Though it is just as lonely the day, my wife died a brutal death in a plane crash about five years ago. Or the day the newspaper guy stopped coming to my house saying I’m just mean. I miss him. Since that day, time seems to have frozen. Nothing has changed. Well, except for one thing – I’m no longer alone now. I live with my other-self: my worse half. He is just as depressed as me, but he has a disguised blessing of turning wild thoughts into action. Or say things I can hardly imagine – through me. I can never do that. 

It seems only yesterday my wife, Kathy passed away. Since then, days have become months. Months grew into years of solitude. And as nights turned cold, I’ve just started to enjoy my own company. That’s about it. Though my other half seems to have gone astray with time. It’s like we are living in the same city yet keep drifting apart. But I don’t really blame him. When you lose someone close, you tend to stop caring about mundane affairs and just focus on bigger things. The curse with having the ability to always look at the bigger picture is the failure to appreciate the shapes and colors. The little things. So this is what has happened to him. In a constant effort to achieve the picturesque, the lines seem to have blur; the colors have oozed, and his grey area has been invaded. That’s just mean.

“Is it strong enough to hold weight say around 150 pounds?” I asked the storekeeper. 150 pounds, huh! Who are you? Ms. Delaware beauty pageant? 
It’s strong enough to hang a person, mate.” the storekeeper grinned. Smartmouth. 
How much for this?”
“That would be 20 dollars, mate.” Bite me! As if Jesus will come down himself, extending his arms to grab our sorry arse. 
Now that’s just mean. I can never forgive him for what he made me say to the newspaper guy. But he has ended up in a world where compassion, hopes, or medallions of the Virgin Mary don’t seem to matter anymore. So that’s fine. After a lot of haggling and heckling deal was made.

I’m not the kind of guy who believes in giving up much less life. But he talked me into it. Perhaps he made the right choice. We! The heights of every pill and the bottom of every bottle suggest that at least he has no doubts. And that one day it has to end anyway. The urge to leave in this fashion clearly is a sign of weakness. Something that only a few possess. Others just have a weakness for living. This is what we want. 

This is it then. Life looks different from this height, especially with a noose around your neck. This reminds me of how Kathy used to help me put on a tie. You didn’t use to like it then. Well, I’m not having a carnival now either.

Probably, I should have negotiated more. 

Probably, life could have turned the other way.

Probably, Kathy would not have died.

But that’s fine. We all owe death a life.

And with that small step, in that moment, the choices were made; lines were blurred; water was spilled and the endless loop was broken. The elusive quest to find the Holy Grail and the crock of gold at the end of the rainbow was over – it was never found; the fervor faded and I lost my way back home. 

And with it, other things ended too. The shapes. The colors.

The little things.

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Published by Anoop

Actor/Writer/Philosopher/Activist- No Sir, I'm none of that. A cog in the wheel, surviving and serving my notice period of death. And yeah, I have a very positive outlook on life. Cheers!

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