Intersecting Monologues…

“There is no such thing as a conversation. It is an illusion. There are intersecting monologues, that is all."

- Dame Rebecca West

Yesterday was a different story. Today, we wiped the slate clean. We then broke it into little pieces so that no more letters could be born out of it. The words con you. They sugar coat an emotion and often bring out a half truth in a manner so brazen, that it alludes what one wanted to say.

I will spare you the agony. Maybe you will feel an urge to torment yourself once I am gone but I guess sooner or later, you will discover the ‘good’ in the goodbye. But for now, maybe, you will want to let the smoke out and give a vent to your rage. It will be interesting to see if your fury flows like your love. Will it leave a bitter-sweet aftertaste once I have gulped it all or will it burn all the way as I sip it in.

At the end of it, they are all just words, woven together to keep them assembled in one sentence. At times, they will keep one warm, on others they will tear and shame you when you are in front of an audience. But I like the thought of it, words coming from you, burning me as I drink on them, pricking and melting my insides and leaving me hollow.

Maybe someday we will make sense of it all. How? Why? When? will then no longer be needed. The Universe will have a silent explanation written on the surface of a placid lake. The chaos of intersecting monologues will subside and a clean, pure, unadulterated silence will then bind us for one last time. I will take our chairs from the porch and bring them there and will share that one last drink with you before diving in.

Till then, I will stream on these monologues and wait for a reply from you, every now and then.