Books, movies, food, art, sitcoms... These are the things people who know me would associate with me. But lately things seem to have changed. Books have been reduced to a couple of pages worth of battle between me and my lost soul. Movies just seem to have become long and boring; an endless charade of minuscule characters living their lives while I am supposed to sit back and enjoy my popcorn. Food is now just a daily routine I have to undergo because I have been doing it for so many years, the very reason for which is probably forever lost within the many folds of fat I have accumulated. Art itself seems to have abandoned me, probably looking for more succulent individuals while I struggle with just the faint reminiscence of what I once was. Sitcoms glaringly thrust in my face, the 'happy' lives of so many others; faces which so very easily make the switch between the reel and the real ones... The list is endless!
This past fortnight I have been living the worst nightmare possible, you know, the one in which you aren't really sure if it actually is one or not. Its like the whole cast of a creepy movie rolled up into me. Sometimes I feel like crying, like a poor little victim, someone totally innocent whom fate has thrust into monstrous scenarios. Other times I laugh. No not the sweet one, but a real malicious kind of sneer-meets-laugh thing, as if after a long and hard struggle the target of my wrath is right in front of me and I begin picturing what exactly I am gonna do with it. Then there are the times when I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. These are the moments I just while around, groaning and moaning, desperately trying to find something in this whole blue world that would interest me, or at least get me through the ordeal.
Initially I thought it would go away with time. But in actuality, if its possible, it seems to be growing with each passing moment. And I tell you folks, it is pretty complicated, explaining to your parents exactly why you were smiling uncontrollably when all you were doing was chatting with some old friends. Or why sometimes you just loose it in completely unprovoked situations. But most of all, dear reader, what is really tough is the grief you have to live with, the insurmountably dull melancholy of life without your friends. I tell you what. It is now that I have realized what 'losing a part of yourself' actually feels like, I can safely say that ages and ages of bards and writers who have touched upon this subject are not exaggerating even a bit.
With this literary eye-opener I bid adieu, and raise my glass for a last toast, "to friendship and beyond"!