Cool story bro but let’s make this about me

Everyone likes attention whether they admit it or not. Some do more & on a bigger scale than others but nonetheless, everyone likes it. We feed on it in a way & get addicted to it. The more we get attention, the more we want of it.

You’re sitting with a friend listening while he/she talks about him/herself but you aren’t really. You’re acting like you are but in reality, even if you’re not aware of it, you’re sitting there nodding & waiting for your turn to speak.

I’m not saying I’m any different but it’s sad. I realized we do it with serious matters like death. A beloved person dies, everyone cries & mourns that person for a couple of days or months. Non of it is fake. It’s all real sadness & heart felt emotions, but what happens after is in a way disturbing. The conversations about the deceased no longer become about him/her entirely. You’ll notice that when a person talks about the matter, he/she will say things like ‘I was with that person a few hours/days before they died’, ‘I knew that person for this many years’, ‘I had a dream about that person a few days before/after they died’ & so on. It turns from he/she to I or we. Even after so many years you or somebody else will say ‘I lost my ‘whatever the relationship with that person is’ when I was this years old. I remember exactly what I was doing when I got the news. I cried for this many days. It was a difficult time for me’.

Maybe it’s intrinsic. Or maybe it’s just like certain drugs, once exposed to them & their effect, you get used to them & their absence makes you feel lost. Maybe just like your body is susceptible to addicting these certain drugs, your soul is susceptible to addicting attention & all you need is exposure.


The beautiful dance of words

Sometimes, words flow in my mind, find each other & share a beautiful dance, one that I’d like to share & remember but, when I try to do just that, the words disappear. The music stops & they all find places to hide. I try to force them out of their hidings. I play the music & beg them to repeat what they just did but they refuse.

But finally, at the pressure of my request, they do it. They repeat the dance but it doesn’t look as beautiful as it did first. Not as captivating. Not as smooth. It looks forced & unnatural. It does to me at least.

It’s like the words are afraid of ‘forever’. Afraid of being exposed & looked at so openly by whoever & for whatever duration of time.

Maybe they’re afraid of being imprisoned by the edges of a small piece of paper. A piece of paper that could easily be thrown in a trash can, or worse, fall in the hands of a person who had never fallen in love with words. A person who’d look at them dancing while being deaf to the music they’re dancing to. Or maybe not notice they’re dancing at all.