Running Away

“I was barefoot, and running as fast as I could. The sun beat down relentlessly, threatening to sear my skin off through the layers of clothing that clung to my body, soaked in sweat. I was breathing hard, and yet my legs would not give up. I could hear my heart beat with the rhythm of my feet pounding on the blazing hot, hard ground below. The desert stretched endlessly for miles. Nowhere to hide. 

I felt myself slow down as realization caught light and began to burn, like the embers of coal beneath my feet. I felt his eyes on my back, and something sparked within me. I found myself shedding off all my layers, one by one, until finally I stopped running and turned to face him, buck naked. I stand before you, my beauty and blemishes laid bare for your eyes. I am not running any more. 

I have let him see me for the way I truly am. No layers or cover-ups, just me. And now I hold my breath and wait for his response.”

I open my eyes and realize I’m holding my breath. I let it out in a huff. I’m still not sure if it was a dream or my unusually vivid imagination taking flight through my sleepless night. But the raw truth behind the scene forces me to sit up and look hard.

What am I running away from? Intimacy? Pain? Heartbreak? No.

I run with the fear of some one peeking into my mind and soul, and not liking what they see. I fear that his heart, so white and pure, may not comprehend the shadows over mine. A fear that he may not be able to understand the pain and darkness that entice me, and my penchant for recklessness, rebelliousness, and immoral wrong-doings.  The fear that he may not be able to love me with my dark side.

And so I run, into my abyss of loneliness, the desert of emptiness. My escape from unraveling, and my retreat into myself.

He has my love, but he craves intimacy. What is intimacy if I do not let him know me? What is love if I cannot be completely myself with him?

I’ll never know… until I stop running and let him see me for who I am.

I close my eyes, and conjure up another half-dream. I feel him take my hand and lead me out of my desert of emptiness. My fear has not yet dissipated, but I’m not running away any more.

Little lazy, little hazy

You realize you’re barely hanging on, stuck right in the middle of being educated and being qualified to get a job.

You have landed yourself in that spot where you know that technically you’re just as qualified as those with an actual professional degree. Heck, probably even your friends, colleagues, seniors, and the person who politely turns you down at the job interview know it too. It’s the professional institution that hands out those two attractive shiny letters ‘CA’ (Chartered Accountant)  that doesn’t know it, and if they do, they don’t care. Because you have not passed their examination. Again.

You may possibly be more knowledgeable than  someone within the 3% that have actually passed this exam.  Yes, 3%. More knowledgeable perhaps, because you have studied for the subject twice more than those that passed the first time around. And now here you go, attempting the same exam for the third time, ending up having wasted a year of your life unemployed, at home, studying, hopeful, that this time you will pass.

After the first failure, you tell everyone you had expected this. Continue reading “Little lazy, little hazy”