Restless...

The narrow band of dusty sunlight, filtering in through the gap in the curtains… the dizzying, ceaseless, revolutions of the tireless ceiling fan, the stillness… the silence… were all immaterial.

The air conditioned bedroom… my last retreat from the sultry afternoon, was now my own personal penitentiary.

I was alone… in the room and in the house. No surprises there… and no cause of concern either. I liked it that way… to be the master of my time and how I spent it… to be… free. I could spend the entire day and night doing as I pleased. Bound merely by what course my ever changing synapses were about to set sail on…. A perfect way of life….

Only unlike usually… I ‘felt’ alone.

Being alone and feeling alone… were as utterly contrary to each other as could possibly be imagined. Like sitting by the shores of an endless ocean… and drowning in it. Like standing on the edge of a bottomless chasm… and falling into it. Like heaven… and sheer hell.

I lay on the bed diagonally… my arms stretched out from my torso… my eyes roving the suddenly all too familiar room. I knew all of it and everything in it… and for some reason… this added to my restlessness.

I felt an inclination to getup and go to the computer in the far corner… or to grab one of the books carelessly tossed onto the desk… to play some music on the abandoned guitar… to do… something… anything.

I lay there unmoving.

It was the strangest of sensations to feel my mind and body being racked by this… restless energy… desperately searching for some outlet… some crevice in the armor of my induced paralysis from which to break through… alleviating itself and me from the torturous agony of self awareness… and inexplicable frustration.

It found none… and I lay there still frozen… waiting for the phenomenon to pass. Waiting to become… alive again….

It wasn’t like me to succumb to weird fits like these. I could keep myself occupied with one activity after another pausing only to sleep when physically exhausted. That was how I operated… that was how I dealt with my blessed solitude.

This was new….

To be so acutely conscious… of every single detail of my surroundings… to feel so energized… and yet to be so powerless, when it came to moving a single unwilling muscle and begin one of my many automated processes to counter my two great gifts… perfect peace and complete freedom.

I thought back to how it had started… hoping to gain some insight into what might possibly be wrong with me… this time.

I had been reading some article, in a tabloid… as always letting my mind wander along each new train of thought every sentence put it on… and then I had put it down, stared at the wall for a brief while… and stretched myself out on the bed….

So, that was the reason for my state? Something I read in the article? The easiest way to answer that would be to reach out... pick up the crumpled thing off the floor, where it had fallen in my abandon… and re-read whatever it was I had been perusing.

Except… picking it up, was physical labor… the like of which I found myself incapable of performing at the moment.

So instead, I had to try to figure it out from memory… follow my dwindling line of thought backwards to it’s source… and figure out what had triggered this shut-down of all my locomotive functions, and so painfully accelerated the cranial ones.

One word… ‘Empty’.

That was it. That’s what had had this effect. I had read that word… and started thinking….

My treacherous mind had translated that one word to sentences… to reasons… to explanations and justifications… all pointed at answering a simple question that we all ask ourselves at some point.

What am I?

I was empty. I lived a life that was hollow. I acted out what I thought would be an ordinary life, based on what I saw others do when in truth most of those things did not appeal to me at all.

My routine, my lifestyle… and everything I did was a poor imitation of the world around me. None of those interests I had cultivated were mine…. They were merely acquired traits and habits as alien to me as I was to my own surroundings. I had accepted them and tried to give a shape to who I am.

When… in reality… the only thing I could be described to be was… empty.

And this dawning realization had filled me with this burning flame to prove my own mind wrong. To show, that I was unique… that I was an individual and not a collage of borrowed behavior patterns. To not be… empty anymore.

Only… deep down I knew it was all true. Not just for me but for most of us. We all had fallen prey to the bandwagon effect at some point or the other and gradually had our very identities leeched away from us, and become as similar as factory made goods. And this… sapped away my ability to do anything beyond lie still and endure the torture of my own mind.

Wanting to do something desperately… and being able to do nothing at all. To crave some form of action… and having to remain frozen and at the mercy of your own brain. To crave respite… and relief in distractions… knowing there probably wouldn’t be any. It was agony.

Agony I had no choice but to wait out….

I averted my gaze from the window… the beam of light from the outside fading fast with the rapidly approaching night… and turned my eyes towards the fan above….

I waited for this to pass, hoping it wouldn’t be too much longer now. I had so much work to take care of…