Isohel is a line on the map connecting places of equal duration of sunshine. Although this might appear like the start of something with a romantic take on things, drawing parallels with lines and warmth and the sun, Ockham’s razor slashes the appreciation of intricacy? On the pursuit of finding the warmth I missed being my old self, the warmth of being content, being sure, being clear, being ‘purposeful’, I occasionally take off, desperately looking, along the line. Going along the line, looking up at the sun cursing, all I had to see was Icarus. Isn’t it almost always not the wax that’s dripping? yet, its almost always what people think of first? Ahh here we go again.
I’m not proud of my first responses, my impulses, specifically? commonly? when it involved others. I’ve said things I can’t take back even though I was in the right, things I can’t take back having felt let down at the moment, momentarily, things I can’t take back thinking it made me look cool, what was common, was the momentary aspect of it? Why does it work this way? Why do we as people have an instinctive drive to be defensive? well duh, to survive, but I wish I wasn’t an animal still, I wish I wasn’t in the giving or the receiving end of it. I apologize to the 15 year old Hanuman who neither understood stories in hindi nor why Indra and the Devas had to make sure people punish the kid for Vayu stepping in although it had nothing to do with him, and the 25 year old who got laughed at, for being friends with the same person 10 years after the incident. I apologize to the 17 year old who was made fun of, behind their back, as for being just a bridge to cross to reach someone else, and the 23 year old who was taken out of something beautiful that was present for the next few years, in the name of confusion and the sake of clarity. I apologize to the 18 and the 22 year old who was asked to rot in hell and misunderstood almost everytime because of petty things the other person just held too close to heart, to the 18 year old who was blindly in love and let the sun he chased, blind him and other 18 year old who had to take, both the blame and the burn, of the melting wax. I apologize to the 19 year old who was called names, and the 20 year old who never got forgiveness. I apologize to the 21 year old that was snatched away a good relationship from, and the 22 year old that never knew how some roads he was going to take, were going to lead him to misery. I apologize to the almost-26 year old having to visit versions along the line, having to relive, to apologize and to let go, to move on, well, to attempt to at least.
Well, I guess I can receive now, I believe I’m slightly more mature now, but I’m also scared maybe it’s this very same thing that probably doesn’t stop me from giving the slap back? I wish I had the chance to give you more warmth, but lights go down, and the very same moment, I feel lost not found.
Beautiful how everything gets to, well what’s the point? does it matter? why can it not? Don’t bring me reason, reason is good, but sometimes I’m not convinced if reason is better, better than blind faith. I wish I still gave warmth. I don’t want to be laughed at, rather be missed.Follow the warmth and maybe you’ll find me again. Maybe go along the line and see if it takes you to me, but what I wish for myself, is for you to not forget to look up, is for me to have taken off, like Icarus? or maybe Hanuman? no matter how you’d look at me then, no matter how you look at me now, I think I wish I’d rather have taken off, than be standing on the line, still deciding if I should. Wouldn’t that be something, something sadder than Icarus or Hanuman, would rather be falling, or even, falling in reverse.