By: Aalam Singh Batth
Not all roses are red,
And violet is not blue.
Anything sounds good if it rhymes,
Even if it’s not true.
Not all roses are red and violet is technically not blue. I repeat to myself, and I ponder why? Why are things that make no sense, so relevant? So, I think and I think, one thought spirals into another, it seems unproductive but I guess that’s how I end up writing? The clock strikes 2 am in the morning and I think about all my regrets. Starting off with, “I should not have had that cup of coffee at 7pm.” It furthered spiralled into, “I should not have overreacted at that particular time to that particular person.” And it brews into this one big cup of thoughts infused with moments of breaking of trust, relations, missed opportunities and what could have or should have been.
Well what a quagmire, it’s the result of all the ill timed choices and decisions. What all could have been done? But this was all me, and at the end it’s the result of my free choice. Regrets, there are a few, good enough to question the freedom of choice, ate more than I could chew. I could have been more pragmatic, but how could one act pragmatically before acting impractically? But once, you’ve eaten more than you can chew, better not puke it out, keep it in and flush it down in the morning, constipation won’t be an issue. I have had my freedom, I have had my time, it’s time to save myself from trouble even if I know I can hardly ever be prudent. I know it’s a bad idea to doubt oneself but deep inside I can’t deny that it might be the truth.
It’s easy to say, that the things that I wanted were unachievable. All of the promises that I lied about were the dreams that I once had. It’s easy to say it’s hard for me at times, I have my issues. I have issues that make me bitter at times. It’s easy to blame it on anxiety and overthinking. It’s easy to suffer and harder to fight. But it’s better to be in control and figure things out even if it takes some help. It would be better to pretend that there are more colours than red and blue.
It’s easier to pretend that emotional philosophy is a waste of time and that there are more practical and real things in life. It’s easy to not acknowledge emotions and treat it as a taboo. It’s treated like a conversation that’s supposed to be with oneself behind closed doors. I was told once, “that life’s already hard and depressing, no one wants to read psychological stuff at the end of the day.” It’s difficult to acknowledge when the underlying effects of this one sided conversations behind closed doors manifests into inbuilt trauma. There are always things behind things, reasons behind reasons and there are questions within answers to these things.
Is it a call for help? No. Did I write all this in one go? No. I thought about it for days, I could go on this melancholy frenzy all day but I hadn’t written for a while. I tried to write something funny but I can’t force it out of me. I think we need more open conversations, rather than forcing out a laugh whenever we are not alright.
Part of me wants to swirl a wand and say “you won’t feel like this again.” Where was all this in Harry Potter?
Some roses are red,
Violet has a little bit of blue,
Not everything needs to rhyme,
But if it does, don’t overthink it too.
I thought I’d be better left alone inside my room, I don’t know what else to do? Maybe going outside will help tackle this flu?
