Is it even real?

"Stop your crying, baby

It's a sign of the times

We gotta get away from here;"

. . .

I had this brilliant continuation of my “I want to be alone” thought. I still pretty much want to cry when things go wrong and not tell a single living soul about it. But I am also terrified of being abandoned, of being left unseen. I think I could love being a curse or wish more than I would want me to be anyone’s habit.

You know I want to be alone; but I don’t want to be left alone.

You see the difference? It’s a very slight one. I want to have space, but I want it within the walls of something defined. I don’t think I imagine floating in the damn space when I say I want to be alone. I see myself lying in the garden ; I need someone to watch over me , not constantly but warn me before it starts to rain because I have this beautiful dress I don’t want to ruin . And I asked myself, “Do you need someone you can trust your fears with?”. ”Exactly.” I thought I finally reached a part where the problem still isn’t solved but I know the reasons why it arose. But there’s more to it.

“Is it even real?”

Because  I wonder as a person who has always loved being in the grey more, or a person who loves fallen leaves more, as a person who feels drawn to loneliness often than she should, as a person who wants to be alone, is it real if she smiles when she sees you or is it real when she cries as you leave? How could you tell that? How do I tell you that? How do I tell myself that?  The maze just falls within itself, densifying any paths I try to carve out of it. What exactly is the definition of reality? Is it something you believe in, or something others believe. Or is it this whole idea of trying to convince others to align their beliefs with yours?

An organism , who was born in, brought up and is destined to die in the waters, believes rivers and oceans to be its reality. But there is also an organism who is born, brought up and destined to die above the grounds, and it will be its reality. But swimming and flying are the same things just in different mediums . It’s the same surviving mechanism for both of the organisms but all fishes can’t fly and all birds can’t swim. And there are few of them that blur the boundaries of their respective realities. So, what is reality? What will be my reality? Your reality ? Our reality?

Is it how I survive individually ? Is it how you survive in your way? Is it how humans survive? Then it may lead me to believe that I have many but blurred realities. Is it possible? Is it possible for me to swim in the air and fly in waters too? If my reality hangs on this very notion of what is , what is not; what should be and what should not , then don't you think reality is just the possibility of something? 

If you have started to forget how many words I say before my voice cracks and I choke on my own tears, then I guess, you are flying and I am swimming. If you remember then know that I trust you with all my might( too much of responsibility?) and we have our realities stacked somewhere, some part.

But it is not possible for us to fly like a bird or swim like a fish. You, me, we stay on ground, we breathe air. That is our possibility. That is our reality. That is my reality.

. . .

As a person who is soo much of me, believe me when I say I love you.