The Plinth Hole

Yup that is what it is...a plinth hole....You know you’ve reached some where and so u enjoy being there...everything slows down and you grasp for a breath, looking back the path you had just traveled...and then all of a sudden ...without any warning you fall down this pit with not a single second to think about anything...you fall deep inside, going as if you’ve been flushed out of some system. The deeper you go, the deeper it hurts. Every time you think about that fall, and every time you think of being there it feels like a nightmare that haunts your every living moment...All this and more comes and crushes you under its mighty thumb where you mercilessly struggle for an escape. For People who had been there and faced that...This is yet another scribble on love screw ups....!!

Please do not mistake this for one of those sweet letters and poems guys and girls take advantage of, when they are in love...nor are these prose people would write to amuse themselves and their peers in the aftermath of any relationship. I am not sure where to place it...so ill leave it to you. To me this is nothing more than just a mouthful of phlegm that I wanted to spew out...mouthful of words carelessly describing the state of mind one get oneself self into!

Pity me...Paper and pen doesn’t reach deeper as much as pixel and mouse used to. Henceforth reading this might make one wonder why I dint composite the thoughts in any coherent order. That’s the way it goes. Just like how one’s brain functions...doesn’t follow any order. It moves faster than the speed of light, thinking about everything from peanuts in a vase to an astronaut in space. It hovers from thoughts to thought and every time you think about that special some one....a momentary silence follows and your heart slows down. You fell so much emancipated when u think them, as time moves in its dangerous microscopic seconds....your thoughts so naked and unbound by barriers only you have control over it. And then you gasp for that precious breath which you otherwise would have missed to breathe.
I don’t know who is to be blamed for such a situation, is it me? Is it her? or our inability to understand the way things have been going on? Whatever it is, I have grown tired thinking about it!
And all that is left now is disgust, embarrassment and hatred towards an otherwise perfect relationship.

(Extracted and modified from Metamorphosis by Sundar Venkatraman, originally written by Vidhya Shankar during January 2004)


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