Undo The Insidious

I wish I could write at least a single line about Terry White before the pen falls. Because it’s easy to see through her as if I see through myself. We used to wish we were unborn and hated seeing ourselves through the mirror. A long time ago when she was in her skin searching for unknown things I was young and naive. But now I am her and she is someone else. “Terry White, I could find out the one you lost years ago in me, in the woods”.

I am accepting the fact that I couldn’t finish reading her, but yes I could finish seeing her. It’s easier to understand a woman because I can relate. We are all women, and we will all have the same feelings, pain, happiness, and stories with different names. I am here in an invisible space, of one end of the world. Nonetheless, I can be you. That is how things are designed by the common world for women. Being different means it’s not you but the urge to be unseen in the middle of a crowd.

‘Coming undone’ was my way to her. She narrated herself and her desire to self-correct, which motivated me to stop reading because I could feel the rest of the book. It’s been written in me; in any woman who shares this space with us. Thinking not being washed away by the largest wave is the most unwanted thing a human being would ever wish for. I smell her in my sweat and don’t want to…

Every single day starts with the same statistical analysis of how far I could undo the loops in my life. It never turned loopier or less. It’s always the same, unchanging. Like infinity. It yells at me, clogging down my thoughts and questioning me for being irresponsible. But I don’t know how to make progress, I never thought of making it. Because I always had different priorities – to improve human relations everywhere. I failed. Every time, I had the same heart-aching bad end, for every relationship I tried. Zero gravity knobs are coming out of nowhere, I can’t help it. I see the world just like her, floating aground, with no forces binding things together except the uncontrollable self-desire.

I am stuck here. I watch her old self, stuck with the hope of not seeing her face. What if we could choose a different type of toxicity whenever we feel bored with the one we are in?? At least that?? Now that she is out, nowhere here, but still the space smells like her. And the space is nothing but me. Miss, I would have fallen for you if either of us were real. You are in my wildest dream. Come down, we shall lean for each other and undo our loops. Though I hate that tint of ‘you’ inside me, one day I will find a way to love you.

Let’s live in Peace!