I’ve given myself a new name today. Mr. Coward. A name which was always written on my forehead. A name which described the most private and the most obscure part of myself. For all the lies I’ve told and for all the promises that I’ve broken, if there is one word that describes me the most. I’d say Mr. Coward is the best of the best.
What do you do when you have something precious in your hands; ‘something’ so very precious that normally takes years of struggle and sacrifice to have ? You treasure it! You try to save it with all the might that you have. You nurture it like its your very own part of your body and soul. I had ‘something’ like that. ‘Something’ that I confided in. ‘Something’ which I gave all my heart to in my submission. Now, a normal person would try his best to hang on to this ‘something’. Forever. He would try in all his capacity to not let anyone or anything hurt that ‘something’ even in his dream. That’s not me. That’s only for a normal person. But, for a man who has lived his life in obscurity, for a man who always kept an infinite spectrum of his emotions to himself, this is not the same. When a heart becomes a locker for too many hidden things which were never brought out, it slowly looses it capacity to withhold anything new in it. You feel weak. You feel petrified even to entertain something to enter that heart. Yet, I gave the ‘something’ a chance. This ‘something’ was something that I had always yearned for. A hand to hold on to. A dream worth living for. And I must say, as much as a stone hearted ass I was, the ‘something’ dug its way into this stone. It spread to every corner of the stone. It literally kicked out all the memories of pain into their own perdition. Ecstasy ruled over me. I was happy. The old memories of pain though they left my heart, I knew, somewhere they were waiting to make their way in. Now, they are strong aren’t they. Not days or months, they were etched onto me for nearly 20 years of my life. They were strong enough to paralyze my heart temporarily to let themselves in. And thus began the memories’ quest for revenge. They took a new form of emotion. Namely the ‘Cowardice’. The new form, a baby, made its little steps into my heart. It stayed there feeding on the tons of happiness my little ‘something’ brought on to me. This cowardice being a parasite that it is, took away my ‘something’ before I could even realize it fully. It sucked the life out of me and my ‘something’. It grew fast. Like a fat, big and dangerous monster. It said , ‘ Hey you! you don’t deserve all this! you’ll loose it all someday’. Nah, this was just a panic attack. At least this was what I had thought it to be. I was wrong. This cowardice, the child of the freckled memories of my past took over my heart. It was ruling me so harshly, that it threatened me each and everyday of my life since it grew of age. It constantly rang ‘ you don’t deserve this, you suck!’. It made me lie. It made me break all my promises. It said run away from all this. It said, you fear the commitment. It said you’ll hurt everyone you love. Oh, it was all very overwhelming. So overwhelming, that I lost myself while all this was happening. I grew weak in my spine. I grew weak in my knees. I grew weak in my will to hang on to my ‘something’. I grew weak to be me. I left it out. I succumbed to my cowardice. I told myself that I am not fit for anything. I told myself that I cannot commit anything to anyone. So I ran. I ran away so far that no one can find me. I ran so hard that my pain in my legs overshadowed the pain in my heart. My cowardice made me run away from my promises. My cowardice changed my life into a living hell. Let me tell you something, even while I’m typing this, my cowardice is still dictating what all should I write, for there is so much that I’ve hidden from the people that I love that, revealing all of it now will hurt them more (Says my cowardice, not me! aye aye master).
Now I’m a no one. A man without anything to hold on to. A man with no purpose. A man depressed, repressed and sullen! A man who cannot promise anymore. A man who can never involve himself in any commitment. A man who is afraid even to make a new friend. A man who has his own world of emotions that will never see light. A man who has succumbed to vices. A man called, ‘The Coward’.
If the poorest man in the world is someone who doesn’t have anyone to whom he can bare his soul to, then I am that poorest man of the world. And bottoms up..!