Berate and resign...

Don't get me wrong my friend; I come not from a place of envy. Your life is plush with prospects, all well deserved. You believed, you persevered, you achieved. I stood by, helping little but hoping generously for your success. You have struggled, you have bled and the fruits of your labor are yours to keep.

I envy not your laurels. I envy not your admirers. But I do envy the poise with which you face that man in the mirror. You embrace yourself in completeness, cognizant of your imperfections but at peace with them all the same. You know your life is not about you. You live every breathing moment knowing that with your destiny is inter-twined those of a million others.

Every now and then, the latent narcissist in me fantasizes that my life too would be a life of purpose.That I too was made to be more than a speck in the sea of obsolescence. That I too could look at my reflection and see more than the darkest shades of grey. I shudder. I'm appalled by my contemptible thoughts that revolve around becoming one less like me so I too would be remembered once I’m gone.

For what could be worse than being forgotten once you are gone! And as I ask myself that question, I surrender with a helpless awkward smile. There is worse. To be loved, to be noticed, to be accepted but to never be known for who you really are... while you are.

My mind is an irate inferno. This lack of clarity, this yearning for vanity is unbecoming. Crippling. Lamentable. The whirlwind of my confusion leave my judgment blurry. That small place of sanity lost somewhere inside me whispers- "It will be alright". "I will belong". "Be strong". 

But the world owes me nothing. "The crowd will not consume you", it says, as I run out of the room, clutching to my paltry insecurities. "They see you, with warm eyes and embracing glances". But the November chill is far more forgiving than the icy cavern that is the jaded heart.

As always, 

The voice of reason fades, the whispers turns to hush. 

And all that I hear instead is the deafening silence in this cemetery of hopes and dreams.