Time Grows Longer

I am told I have a lot of life to account for in words. Some ten months of life.

I’ve been putting it off so long now that the well has swelled so heavy that words don’t seem enough to recount so many days lived. So I will none of it. Rather, I will pick up the thread from here and now….at some 12.30am on a random March evening.

Change: it’s been one of my major hesitations. Embracing change. Yet over time I have learnt to abide by the laws of nature …and for lack of a better phrase…go with the flow. Time ebbed and flowed and there was a recurrence of what was once ‘life’. We became clichés again. It is comfortable again …and this city is beginning to redeem itself. God Bless for that!!

The change is mental, physical and spiritual. We grew … as people and as individuals. I am still growing (there is nothing that entertains like an inside joke) and there is hope in the future. Where there is life there is hope...and we have life.

…I am returning home for a spell to build a nest. While there is joy on returning, I take with me my expanded view of the word. Sometimes when I view it with these new eyes, ‘home’ begins to look smaller in comparison. Myopic and constrained. Desperate and flawed. While the patriotic heart still beats strongest in the body, the other more selfish organs vie for the comforts of this alternate world. These beastly habits of luxury and hedonism call repeatedly for the charms of this place and this life. And eventually one feels torn in two all the time. It’s the choice that kills you. When you have both options. That of course, and the perpetual guilt of the one who got away. The escapee. It is a sad conundrum because having lived in the ghetto’s so long you miss its confining limits, the overwhelming interference and the implicit lack of choices. The world as your oyster is also a scary idea. Looking out on to the horizon with no definite end in sight. Tough choices, because the heart is at another place and the mind at another. And reconciling the two becomes ever more difficult as the schism between them becomes deeper to bridge.

But I digress (I always do). Cest la vie. I owe no one anything here.

My bones grow weary...and I realise I am too young for them to be this tired. I have a lot yet to do. I need to cross those typical markers that signify a life that has been 'lived'. So much to do and so frail a vessel.

Let us be positive: I am here in the now. Whatever now this is. I'll pay visits, hopefully not so fleeting...and connect, if not with you (my reader) then with myself.

On that note, "we'll not say good bye, but rather see you tomorrow."

Comments

Chun said…
You don't count as the escapee if you didn't choose the escape. I am sure home understands :)
8:00 PM
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