Delusions or...
Sia sat in the dark balcony, lightly holding the smoldering cigarette in her slender fingers. She took a short deep puff and then inhaled deeply, taking the smoke inside. It traversed her pores and housed in her lungs, her cells. She left out the smoke in slow motion. The smoke mixed with the cool night air and she stared as it dissipated, becoming thin. The nicotine kicked in then.
She had started recently and was willfully forcing her mind to get addicted. Sia knew she had to keep control over her restless mind and reign in her thoughts. It was high time she went back to her routine life. Soon, she wrote in her diary.
Sia suffered from delusions and sometimes she wondered if everything was squeaky up there. Many times it seemed as if she had deliberately entered a suicidal mission. But, then how you must get into a dirty pond to clean out the weeds, unless you delve deep into the recesses, you cannot unravel the multiple layers of the thought that make up a mind-plane.
Sia had tried alcohol also and sometimes she had given in to a few puffs of ganja, marijuana. The crushed herbs gave an amazing high to Sia and she had almost ODed on it. After that one experience, she let go of her keenness to unlock the high that ganja delivered.
Is there an age where a person, be it man or woman, wants to decipher a whole lot of truths about the self. Or according to the societal pressures can a person not indulge and gather life experiences? Is this again an activity that a person with abundant wealth can indulge in? Not really. I feel anyone with a nomadic gene in their body would feel so. Like Sia. Being a nomad, having wanderlust in her blood comes naturally to her. Sia wants to travel, in her mind, by foot, using means such as train or plane or bus. Reach a destination solely but the actual romance is with the air that rushes in from the windows, the smell of fresh earth and the mixed smell of weathered leather and stench of bodies drenched in stale sweat and somewhere a faint aroma of freshly fried samosas rises to play with your senses. Life seems worth living when she closes her eyes and lets her senses do the rest of the work.
She had started recently and was willfully forcing her mind to get addicted. Sia knew she had to keep control over her restless mind and reign in her thoughts. It was high time she went back to her routine life. Soon, she wrote in her diary.
Sia suffered from delusions and sometimes she wondered if everything was squeaky up there. Many times it seemed as if she had deliberately entered a suicidal mission. But, then how you must get into a dirty pond to clean out the weeds, unless you delve deep into the recesses, you cannot unravel the multiple layers of the thought that make up a mind-plane.
Sia had tried alcohol also and sometimes she had given in to a few puffs of ganja, marijuana. The crushed herbs gave an amazing high to Sia and she had almost ODed on it. After that one experience, she let go of her keenness to unlock the high that ganja delivered.
Is there an age where a person, be it man or woman, wants to decipher a whole lot of truths about the self. Or according to the societal pressures can a person not indulge and gather life experiences? Is this again an activity that a person with abundant wealth can indulge in? Not really. I feel anyone with a nomadic gene in their body would feel so. Like Sia. Being a nomad, having wanderlust in her blood comes naturally to her. Sia wants to travel, in her mind, by foot, using means such as train or plane or bus. Reach a destination solely but the actual romance is with the air that rushes in from the windows, the smell of fresh earth and the mixed smell of weathered leather and stench of bodies drenched in stale sweat and somewhere a faint aroma of freshly fried samosas rises to play with your senses. Life seems worth living when she closes her eyes and lets her senses do the rest of the work.
"Is there an age where a person, be it man or woman, wants to decipher a whole lot of truths about the self" ...yes ..Its called Today ....
ReplyDeleteThe "faint aromas" and stench of "stale sweat" are not a phenomenon compulsively driven by Calendars ....Jump ...Those who Jump swim ...Rest Blog :)
Hmm! true...let us discuss. :)
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