As I lay there with smoke rising like a heap of cloud above my head, my thoughts gave way to clearer facts about life. I felt light. I felt free. As the smoke found its way out of my lungs into the clean air of the room, I felt as if I was letting go. My mind for once had gone blank, no thoughts, no worries and thankfully no pain. I was alone and the world was there for me to carve it the way I wanted to. I lay there mind purified and for the first time I really heard the lyrics of the song which was playing in the background.
I had heard the song before a million times but somehow never cared to really understand it. Till now it had never made so much sense. Every word the dude sang engraved its way into my heart and fit like lost pieces of puzzle of my life. The way he talked about love and hurt and pain made complete sense. Our life was just another joke for the man sitting above us, laughing his way as we tortured our way through this unbelievable painful path.
I got lost in the words. I got lost in the song. I got lost in the thoughts in my own mind. I was free again. I had the power to rule myself again. As I breathed in the smoke, I felt a strange type of feeling. I felt painless, I was high on something. I laughed at every stupid thought. I laughed at every single memory of us. Be it sad or be it hurtful, I jus laughed. The memories all seemed to remind me of that puppet master who used to sit in front of my house and make his dolls dance for him all day. He had the complete power in the world. He used to live in a world of his own fantasies with him handling the strings of the little people he called his children. He had the power to make them dance or make then sleep. He ruled their world.
I thought. I drank. I smoked. I listened to music. And I wrote. These were the 5 things which broke these stupid strings attached to my hand and feet. I was heading towards a land of unknowns and for the first time was alone here. I had no strings attached. I walked, I ran, I fell, I crawled, but I still got back to my feet. Life is too hard to let go. Pain is too hard to forget. A friend is too cold to notice but I bleed to my very death as I lay here smoking my way out of my own fucking life
Lonelyreaders 