Monday, July 12, 2004


Quiet. I want quiet. I want peace. I want silence. Whispers shouldn't be heard. No murmurs either. Just quiet, peaceful, white hush. Not dark, morose, dank, quiet. No. Quiet. Not the dark, depths of space. No. The bright, whites of bliss. That's what I want. Bliss. Eyes closed. Faint smile. Eyeballs under eyelids still. Bliss. Slow, light breathing. Beautiful death. That's what I crave for.

My life is too much a burden for me. The voices. The debates, the quarrels, the competitions. All this talk. All this discussion. For what? Pointless. Why not just take a boat and go into the middle of the lake. Where nobody can reach you. Where you yourself can't reach you. No phones ringing. No emails to check. No voicemails to delete. Just a hushed silence.

Where has all the quiet gone? In this era of technology, where has all the silence gone? In this era of waves of data, atmospheres filled with binaries, where has the sweet smell of nothing gone? I crave that smell. I crave that hush. I long for that gentle breeze, which blows waves on grass, which creates silent ripples in ponds.

Quiet. No explanations required to be given. No words required. No ideas, no thoughts, no mind. No guilt, no fear, no bravura, no proving, no convincing. Peace.

Longing, craving. Dying. Each and every moment. Dying. Both the moment and myself. Dying. Slowly. But surely. Not getting older. Just dying. Moment. Gone. Breath. Gone. And after that breath? Is there life? Is breathing life? Is it worth just breathing?

Death. Welcome. Let's embrace. Not death in sadness. No. In happiness. In bliss. In silence. In passing. Passing on. That's what I welcome. Passing on. I've lived enough. I want to pass on. I've failed everywhere. Now it's time to pass on. A life breathed, yet not lived. Quietly slipped by. Quietly, as if ashamed at having lived, ashamed of having born. Quietly pass on. No applause. No ovations. No remembrances. No memories. Aspirations. All dead. Or dying. Wishes. Gone. Wants and needs. Unfulfilled. How much longer will this chase last? Tired of running. Tired of making up a mirage to chase after. Just bone tired. Just one wish. To lie down and pass on. Close my eyes. Shed the last tear. And quietly, silently, move on.

Fare well.


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