One Last Time

I was tired of nights that gave me peace, and caressed me with pains. This would be the last one, I promised to myself. But do I really need the last one? Do I really wish to spend another night crying and fighting with myself? As I was walking through the street brimming with lives and loud mouths, I found myself looking up at the golden sky. It was painted behind the empty trees, like a long lost dream of the one bereft of green leaves and chirruping birds. I am not that lonely as they are, I thought to myself. Maybe, they aren’t because they still stand upright keeping their dream alive. Have I lost them while fighting too much with my own self? I cannot, I was sure of that.

Maybe, just maybe, I am just being selfish. Was I too ambitious before someone told me how worthless I am or I had this from the very day I was born? I don’t know. Perhaps, I shouldn’t know, because I don’t deserve to know an answer to this, I deserve to get out of it soon. I wanted to feel spring, blooming with freshness and seeding new lives. I just wished to get out of the web that held me hard and made me hate myself, more and more, everyday.

I waited for tomorrow as the night would fade. I waited for someone to pluck me out of that prison of emptiness and paint my empty dreams. I just kept myself in the dark and waited for some fictional miracle to come true. For God’s sake, I never knew my wild imagination was pushing me away from the reality. I felt too deeply to know that I was wrong, and feared that my own thoughts are running against my will.

This time, the golden rays, they fell upon me. I pictured myself as a tiny branch of the tree that is gearing up to live, not survive, but live with an innate hope for the colors to sprout on it and stay as it gets old and die. I couldn’t figure out how my tousled mind felt connected to it. Was it a thing of beauty or a sense of realization? I don’t know. Maybe, it was both or I was over-assuming it. It was funny, I felt, of how we forget to look around and seek answers of our poor questions that shouldn’t have even cropped up at first place. I realized of how my own voice was shouting back at me and my fear kept shutting my ears and soon, numbed all of them.

Maybe, it’s the time to start afresh. Maybe, its my chance to paint and chase a colorful dream. Maybe, I am already healing from a dried up wound.