Every minute that went by, it became more intolerable to hold back. I had to do something, I had to say something, I had to get involved. Making my mark, letting others know that I had been there, pointing my fist or my finger at someone's face were all part of the day. No questions or statements remained unanswered, no place remained not visited and no ideas remained unexplored. This was my life, when my years were less and my days appeared to last longer. When each day was filled with excitements and unknowns. When I thrived on change and fought for it. When I noticed the breath of fresh air and the brightness of the day. This was when I believed the world could be changed for better in my lifetime and believed if people saw the truth, they would become believers. Those days the ugliness, corruption and ills of the society had not yet tainted my heart and soul.
As I joined the so-called work force or became slave to the syntactic needs and urges that governed my world, I became more detached from the true ideals that were the main source of nourishment for my existence. I became to be a silent viewer of the events from the comfort of my living room. Each evening, I crawled into my living room with a beer in hand, sitting indifferently in front of the television box, watching programs that were meant to detach me from life. Day after day, I appeared in front of the same box and became more and more preoccupied by the fragile glamour that was emitted from it. Instead of living my own life, I started living the life of those who appeared in the box. Instead of playing sports, I became its viewer. It was like their experience was mine. I did not have to sweat, feel the pain, throw the ball or stretch out to touch the hoop, and yet I felt the excitement of my favorite team winning. There was always another beer to boost my syntactic excitement. I became an observer of life and television provided a tunnel vision to view it. That was life then.
I woke up with pain. I tried to ignore it during the day, but it insisted on remaining with me and reminding me it belonged to me. Each morning the pain became worse. I slowly realized it has found itself a permanent place in my body. Then neither the television box nor the abundant of painkillers and booze could soothe my pain. After undergoing a series of tests, came the result. Cancer was the order of the day. Now the pain within me had its own identity and address. It grew stronger day after day. Cookie cutter treatments failed to prevail and to free my body from its unwelcome intruder. Experimental treatments turned out to be experimental after all. Undergoing one was enough for my aching body. It was time to accept the inevitable.
Life is changing its face again.
Life starts again...
Let me have all your pain and
live one more day.
Rubbish, I say to all of them.
It is I who shapes my life.
Do not deceive yourself by the
promises of the heaven and hell.
Do not look back ... It is gone
Cherish each moment for what
The end is near...
My body refuses to share its
existence with the pain within.