Just

Porthos dreams of being a bear, and you want to shatter those dreams by saying he’s *just* a dog? What a horrible candle-snuffing word. That’s like saying, “He can’t climb that mountain, he’s just a man”, or “That’s not a diamond, it’s just a rock.” Just. ~J.M. Barrie

We all want to be different. Stand out from the crowd. Without exception.

Ironically, in this universal desire for uniqueness we all end up becoming similar. We all conform - to the desire of being a non-conformist. 

So what then? Does that automatically nullify what we are trying to do? Make us slaves to a world where the drab uniformity that drives us look for an individual identity also makes us create a different kind of same-ness. Perhaps a more difficult one to fight, given how carefully camouflaged it is in the garb of self-delusion. 

Maybe I'm being too morbid. Too much of a defeatist. Maybe I should look at it through rose-tinted glasses. 

Alternate scenario then. 

People are like rainbows. Each different. Each fitting together to make that splendid spectacle in the sky. You may be a happy yellow - along with tons of other chirpy yellow's. Or maybe you are a passionate indigo - but there are other passionate indigo's teaming up with you. 

No matter. All of you still form a wonderful picture - and it's a picture that would be incomplete in its symmetry without even one of you. 

Does that picture make you happy? Well then, my job here's done. 

As for me. I'm somewhat of a cynic. I keep thinking that even to be a rainbow, the sunshine cannot do without the rain. Even to be different, you need set parameters. 

Then are you really different? Or are you just pretending to be?

If only...

Something is amiss. I don't know what. A vague, uneasy feeling - of things changing, of time running out. I'm restless, again. I'm scared, for the first time ever. And what anchored me to peace seems to be drifting away.

My head's been buzzing...with words, phrases, thoughts. So, so many things! It's so noisy...and so deathly silent...all at the same time.

It's the distance. My mind is trying to fill this space between us - and the only way it can do it is by thinking...thinking...and thinking some more.

So much in fact, that I don't know which idea to grasp, which dream to dream. Which thought to articulate first - if at all.

And if I can't make sense of my thoughts, if I cannot get order in the chaos inside me - then how can I expect you to understand? If I cannot express myself, then how do we communicate? And communication is what we have survived on till now.

So is this survival at stake?

I usually thrive in spaces where there is no set order - but here, in this jumbled mind space, I'm afraid of losing my way, of losing my ability to connect with you, of losing us.

I want to tell you how much I miss you. But I'm afraid you will find me too clingy.
I want to tell you I need you. But I'm afraid you will find me too demanding.
I want to let you in - again. But I'm afraid you won't like what you see.
I want to tell you I belong to you. But I'm afraid of asking you if you belong to me.

I don't know if I want to hear your answer. I don't know if I want you to know mine.

When exactly, is ignorance bliss? I don't know.