February 16, 2013

Of wanting a future

What did I want? Did I want to live? Was there any point to living after being shot down in battle, rendered useless. I groped around to find a place to sit. It was inside a long hallway and the lights were blue - dark blue. As I sat, I saw my wound. A bullet had gone straight through my armor and all the way into my intestine. I didn't think I had any purpose to live anymore. And then there was silence, as beautiful as a garden on a summer morning. The silence was a great deal of change from the dull blue around me. It was green, it was yellow and it was definitely bright. I was a child again.

In my house, there were a bunch of guests. I really couldn't see them, but I listened from the upper end of the staircase. Could I know them? And I stayed there till they left. I didn't want to know them and I walked downstairs, there was nobody. The living room and the kitchen were empty. I searched for my parents and started crying. A deep desire in me for food made me want to open the fridge and scavenge. The fridge was empty and cold. The lights turned dull. And I walked back upstairs, crying, alone and the house seemed to get bigger and emptier. I could hear them, but nobody was there.  I wanted nothing more than belonging.

As I walked into my parents' old bedroom, I saw them and my brother sitting there, eating pistachio. My blood boiled, but the room was cold and air conditioned. I could feel the layer of temperature change between my skin and the atmosphere. I was fed, properly. And I was cradled in my mother's laps. I wanted to do nothing more than sleep.

I slept and woke up, I was a teenager. I had high hopes, for what I hardly know. I had been what the society wanted me to be. A good academic. But I was programmed inside to want that. Nobody could make me want anything else. And my future was just getting into college. We all live like that every now and then. I trampled along the corridors of my house, they were longer than every before, but they weren't as lonely. They seemed to get nowhere but I had people all around me. There was a lot of light, a lot of noise, none of it was musical, but the place wasn't dead. There was nothing more that I wanted than to keep walking ahead.

A few years happened and then the corridor turned dark. The other people seemed to have flashlights and candles but I didn't I was lost. And I turned out of the corridor into the first door I could find. All the noise vanished. There was nothing but music. But where did the people go? The room had light at the end of it, but it was so lonely that I was afraid to cross it. It was inside a long hallway and the lights were blue - dark blue.   There was nothing more that I wanted to do than to reach the switch. But the loneliness really troubled me. Once again, I found myself yearning to belong. Where are my friends?

As I woke up back in the dark blue corridor, I could see the cold air sweeping in. The robots were fast approaching me. I had to run, despite my wound. I ran. Alone, in a corridor that seemed to be running endlessly. And there he came, a single robot. He walked to me, in front of me and looked harmless. He told me how my friends had fared. He told me that they had jobs, families and houses. I was angry. I told him that I don't need any of that. He laughed and turned into the images of my parents and my closest friends. I cried. And he left. I was alone again. I could see them, but nobody was there. I wanted nothing more than belonging. Or maybe I just wanted to sleep now, for choosing darkness means choosing sleep. Or does it?
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