Glass Orb

 

I see my world as a small glass orb. It is filled with a world that I created, as I like it to be. My world. Every day, I walk out of my house, across the secluded path to the end of the road and step into the concrete island of offices. I work in one of those thousand office floors in that concrete island. When I walk out of the office again, I walk back the secluded path, leaving behind the concrete mass of buildings, into the quiet solitary of my house. The walk a soothing balm to the frenzy of the day. The large front lawn a solace and weekend comfort, in the deserted realm of existence. The sky above is perfect blue, not a single cloud. It turns into a myriad brilliant colors as the sun descends and the night sky, ah, the beauty of it! It is this magnificent magenta color, not black, not purple, but that beautiful shade of magenta. The stars in the night sky are a vision. They glitter like, well, stars, perfect shape and enigmatic sparkles. They sometimes comedown and touch me, while I am asleep. They linger around, lurking in the corner of the room, dancing through the ceiling and finally, in a brilliant dash of playfulness touch me and kiss me. As I open my eyes, they run away, higher and higher, teasing me and daring me to follow and touch, just like my dreams. While awake, they seem elusive and while asleep, they torture me.

I chase, one day, the star that pulled me out of my bed. I chased until I tumbled and cried in agony. The star came and touched me again and pulled me up and just when I tried to hold its hand, it ran away, laughing. I chased and fumbled and continued to chase. My feet tired, my lungs out of breath, my eyes wild with anxiety, I walk down onto the concrete island, hopeless in appearance. I watch a few people on the corner of the street, drinking cigarettes in the middle of the night, frowning at my appearance. Yes, I know that I do not belong to this world, but there it is, the star that shook me and teased me to follow. I run again, in the desperate attempt to get hold of it. I ignore the stares and snarky comments, I ignore the pounding fear in my heart at the sound of the steps behind me, I run and run, at the distancing star. I realize that I am on the other side of the island, the paths more narrow and houses much smaller. I look around, to see where the star hid. I cannot find it and I am stuck on the other side of my glass orb, looking like a distressed damsel. I hear the voices of TV drifting through the middle of the night, I hear the cries of a baby, I hear the midnight traffic buzz and then I see the dark stench corners of the rotten paths. This is a side I never knew existed. It’s my world, it should be beautiful, inside out. Why is the stench so overpowering. Oh, that is right, the stench of disappointment. Where is the darn star, I will wring its neck, if that is the last thing I do tonight, I vow. I hear a lyrical laughter from the corner of the street and I run towards it. This is it, I am close, I am this close to touching it.

“Aaah”, I writhe in pain as my hands burn when I touch the star. My entire body is on fire. I feel the wither in my life, as I continue to hold it, despite its fight. The indignant star is firing on all out mode and I am livid at its audacity, that it teases me in the middle of the night and dares me to catch it and now, it has the gall to cause me this pain! I still hold on to it, hoping that it will relax and then I notice that it is choking on its breath. Oh no, I relax my grip on it, my face contorted with pain. I see it breathing and glaring at me.

“Let go”, it says. “No”, I say.
“I am not your dream. Let go”, it says.
I completely relax my hand, shocked. “But, you are my dream”, I say, bewildered.
“Yes, I was. I don’t want to be anymore. Let go!”, it says.
“I already let you go!”, I scream and I look down. The star is stuck to my hands. Its burning me. It is slowly incinerating my hands and the slow roast is purgatory. I look at them aghast! Why, why did I chase the dream? Was I not better off in my own little world? But then, my conscience asked,” is this not your world too? You can snap out of it. You can let go of it. It’s in your mind. Let your heart go! Give control to your mind. It’s the one that created this world for you. Let go, let go, you little fool, before you burn.”

I could not fathom the ire in its voice nor could I let the star go. I stood there, staring it down, stuck with the enormity of the pain and while the little star, in its agony at my touch is repelling its wily vomit all over me, I stare at it. The beautiful, sensual, teasing star that it was, now the fiery glowing amber livid in its senses, made me reach somewhere deep within me. I hear the voices around, of the people seeing this wonder, their shouts dismal, their dismay ridiculous. Who are they, my conscience snarled. I look at the onlookers, my face contorted in agony, as I realized in shock, the familiar faces. Few marred with concern, few already on their way and few simply amused at my sight.

“Enough of chastisement? Let go, you idiot. I am not standing here to be mocked at. Let go, before you die”, my conscience was screaming.
“How to let go? It’s my dream. This is what I wanted. This is what I chased. This is what I stumbled all over the place for. This is what I walked onto the other side of the world for. I can’t let go”, I wailed. I held on, enduring the pain as it intensified. I looked at the star, twisted in agony, unable to withstand my touch. I realized with shock, I am the one causing this pain. I am the one holding it. I am the one choking it. I am the one causing it to burn like the lava.

“Why could it not jump and go its way? It did run away from me, after it touched me. The bloody thing teased me and now it wants to hold on?”, I thought.
“You blithering fool, I held you, I let you go. Now, you held me. You let me go! This instant”, it shouted, in all its pompousness.
 “Don’t you want to stay with me?”, I ask, my voice ringing with sadness.
“No”, it said. The blunt answer was all it took to let it go.
It jumped and my body, that burned with the touch of the dream felts it’s after burn. Not as fierce, but certainly as painful. The star went its way, rubbing its neck, its legs wary of the path and its light simmered down. It stumbled in its path and fell down, groaning. I rush to it and kneel down.
“Don’t touch me”, it whimpered. Its light toned down and it starts to fade, in front of me. Oh, such a beautiful star. I cannot just watch it. I touch it again, and the fire is back, the pain, the light.
“Oh, for the love of all that is holy, let go! Don’t you realize, you are the lifeline. You let go of the dream and it dies. You hold it, you die. Don’t you have any self-preservation?”, my conscience screamed.
“I cannot let it die!”, I scream back. “Well, you just have to. Do it”, it says. Torn between agony and suffering, I let it go. This time, the star did not even limp or whisper. The light just went out! Its dead. The beautiful star is dead.

I sit there, dejected with the star at my feet. I look up, my conscience heavy and as the realization hit, my eyes filled with tears. The glass orb looks different. Its broken! My orb is broken! The freaking star exploded my orb and shattered it. Stupid, stupid star! I scream.