Small steps..

If you know how to drive or swim, you never forget it. Alas!!! It doesn't go with expression. Not so long back I was content with the immense satisfaction that small writing bouts offered me. It was an aphrodisiac for me. I kept returning for more like a jilted lover who pines for the last look of his beloved. I touched her through words, spoke to her in broken dreams of my thoughts and fantasized of my 'neverland'. I don't know if i have that flair anymore. I am rather unsure of what am writing right now and i cannot possibly contemplate if this would be of any coherence or sense. But broken steps only could break into gallops and strides. And to be frank and candid, I dont want that now. Am pretty absorbed in my meaningless world and am too scared to raise the curtain and let the darkness or light flow in. I have become a prisoner of my habits, my fears, my OCD and my ever prodding sense of 'what is right or wrong'. I feel as though am chained in my own trappings and yes!!! Rousseau does make sense to me now. I was born free but here I am entrapped in my own creations, my own festivities, dejections, ambitions and whatever else there is to me. Am all but myself.

I don't know if this post would ever be read by anyone or be understood in the exact way i perceive it. Believe me, it is not my concern. But yes, the optimist in me still sees some light, hope, possibility. Maybe my soul would raise from the depths where I have drowned and breathe in fresh morning air of dew, all the while reminiscencing the longing of the night which in all its beauty and confusion has trapped me.

I wonder if I could write and feel as I did.