purplepanache

United Arab Emirates

to love or to not love

avatar: self portrait as a tehuana by frida kahlo

#giveusbackourwords
(riley, you go girl!)

Message to Readers

this letter is addressed to my best friend, someone who has lived through most of my experiences with me, someone who is a part of me like my arm or my ear. however, since a year, we've been living considerably separate lives in different parts of the world.

but on another note, i'd like this letter to be read as a universal one, something you would write to a part of your body or to a fragment of your mind. the Rat represents the intellect and the Locust represents the spirit.

i would love to receive some feedback. thank you.

a letter to a bosom friend.

July 20, 2020

Dear Rat,

I write to tell you that you that I miss you, terribly so. I miss the apathy we cherished together, the faith we lost together. Come to think of it, our stakes have always been intertwined, the cuts of our jibs have always sliced apart those that loved us. I miss you from the days of Forever when life could be lived Without a Care.

We were Mice before we became Men. I shudder to think of the quandary I faced on playground swings- with kids younger to me squeezing their faces, imploring for their turns. To lend or to not lend? You would have clung on to your heavenly prerogative, onto the stream of consciousness that let you in on the knowledge that you were Superior in the eyes of God. You would have flung your long legs into the sky and gauged away a piece with you, you would have set your chin a little higher. But I always scratched my shoes to a steady stop. I always nudged the swing in the direction of the Lesser Ones, always walked away radiating God’s Glare. It wasn’t that I was any Bigger than you, but the consciousness that flooded my being, in most cases, was a lake. I was intensively aware of the energy I unleashed into the Universe with my actions- and when I brought about unhappiness, I feared with my life that the Universe would find me and restore to my being what it had lost, repay my sins with tragedies.

I believe that Mice are still the first to emanate. The stagnant, fat, entitled ways of Mice. We were cleverer than the boys in our school, we have always been. And yet, we allow our thoughts to stay dormant in our limbs for longer than they should. We are inert men, Rat. We don’t act, we never do. I stroke my thoughts to sleep, while you rage them at those who pass you in the streets. But we both just sit in the same, pathetic, inexorable way. Our chests and our movements have been weighed down by these thoughts for years now, rendering us slow and slack.

I’ve been comatose in my room. I bead my rosary and cower under the balm of sanity, while you burst and bloom and bitter. Mediocrity is marvelous, I’ve exalted every ounce of it in my blood, I scrub it obsessively onto my face and hands. But you’re not mediocre, of course. You’ve been shifting earths, stepping over people who hurt you. You’ve been rolling on floors and throwing tantrums. You’ve been storming, Rat, while I’ve lived in my head. I’ve lived in my head. I’ve ruled the world, crashed cars, run firms, robbed, kissed girls, fallen in love, killed etc.

There is a garden of ifs between the man I was and the man I am, an ocean of whys between the man I am and the man I will never be. I’ve settled like a migrant upon everything I ever wanted- fed off it and grown fat. Everything I did was for the Universe to accept me but I no longer see justice in that. I no longer see justice in all that I have delivered, and have not seized back. There are days when I long for you. To Return.

Have you done the things you dreamed of doing? Have you been the man you wanted to be?

Or have you rotted like I have? There’s a portion of me that believes you have, that if I sat you down and looked into your eyes, you would still be filled with the same inadequacy. The same emptiness and hunger that plagued our bodies in youth. That is simply the fate of those like us who want and want and want. So many goddamn things to want.
Maybe I’m better off. I’m failing and ageing but I’m still searching for things. I’m still hoping that someday, I will find them. But you buy up material things you don’t care for and fill yourself up to your throat. You don’t need those things, Rat, you’ve just settled for them. You’ve just fallen somewhere and settled there. You’re as broken and demanding as I am.
 
And in a way, we’re both men who will never stop wanting. We savour the act of wanting and failing and taking it out on the world. That’s simply the way we are.

Your truest friend,
The Locust
 

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3 Comments
  • Mayaabigayle

    This. was. amazing. Your use of words was perfection.


    3 months ago
  • poetri

    um this deserves so much more recognition than it has, just want to put that out there.
    also i saw your bio and hehe ty ily queen


    3 months ago
  • Pravartika Wankhede

    replying: thankyou so MUCH, for your comment. it has made several days of mine. lol. i have written a peer review. hope it gets to you super quick.
    love and light,
    P.


    3 months ago