"The deadliest disease isn't something that'll eventually kill you..
Its something that stifles your hope..
That sets you in an eternal daze..
That petrifies you from within..
That allows you to breathe but not to live.."
John read what he once wrote, his eyes sore with grief. He lit a candle and started to burn alongwith it. He'd always found himself on the verge of a plaintive breakdown. He inhaled sharply before he could fold the note and place it under his pillow. It didn't mean anything to him. It's just that he held everything near him so precious. Everything, besides himself.
That night the full moon wore shades of orange. John got up and stood near the window. His dreary eyes al set on this perennial beauty. For a moment he felt hypnotised. It was the graphic version of a siren song. He wanted to be there. Right in the craters. Hopping like a bunny. Mocking the sun. Reigning supreme.
A phone ring soon knocked him out of the trance and pulled him back to the present. There he stood hapless, in the shaggy Sixth Floor apartment he'd been rotting in alone since a year. It was her. Kate. The only person who mattered to him. The only person still alive that mattered. He stared at the phone and waited for the ring to die so that he could hear the silence once again.
She was worried sick about him. He'd not spoken to her since a week. And didn't intend to do so now. They were good friends. And he loved her. 'Twas difficult for him to say goodbye.
He couldn't think right anymore. He did what he could but somehow nothing seemed to work out. For years he deafened the ghastly voices in his grapefruit. But not today, he thought. The fighting spirit had subdued. "Hope isn't a good thing after all. It just prolongs the torment," he mumbled. He wanted to end this tonight. Badly. He'd never be able to dwell on the clouds of normalcy. Never dance in the priceless rain. Never hold hands with his beloved one. Never.
The disease had taken control. He'd lost. He screamed out his surrender to the ceiling.
The window was now wide open. The cold winter breeze stung his eyes. They watered. His body shivered. He didn't have to do this. But there seemed to be no choice.
He closed his eyes for a while. Soaking in the fear. Scenes flashed at a million frames per second. Til all he could see was white. No sound. No image. Just the ground below. Over his shoulder, the candle light begun its own fight with the breeze that whistled its way in. Then.. a yell and a thump. The breeze stopped. The candle still burns...
Its something that stifles your hope..
That sets you in an eternal daze..
That petrifies you from within..
That allows you to breathe but not to live.."
John read what he once wrote, his eyes sore with grief. He lit a candle and started to burn alongwith it. He'd always found himself on the verge of a plaintive breakdown. He inhaled sharply before he could fold the note and place it under his pillow. It didn't mean anything to him. It's just that he held everything near him so precious. Everything, besides himself.
That night the full moon wore shades of orange. John got up and stood near the window. His dreary eyes al set on this perennial beauty. For a moment he felt hypnotised. It was the graphic version of a siren song. He wanted to be there. Right in the craters. Hopping like a bunny. Mocking the sun. Reigning supreme.
A phone ring soon knocked him out of the trance and pulled him back to the present. There he stood hapless, in the shaggy Sixth Floor apartment he'd been rotting in alone since a year. It was her. Kate. The only person who mattered to him. The only person still alive that mattered. He stared at the phone and waited for the ring to die so that he could hear the silence once again.
She was worried sick about him. He'd not spoken to her since a week. And didn't intend to do so now. They were good friends. And he loved her. 'Twas difficult for him to say goodbye.
He couldn't think right anymore. He did what he could but somehow nothing seemed to work out. For years he deafened the ghastly voices in his grapefruit. But not today, he thought. The fighting spirit had subdued. "Hope isn't a good thing after all. It just prolongs the torment," he mumbled. He wanted to end this tonight. Badly. He'd never be able to dwell on the clouds of normalcy. Never dance in the priceless rain. Never hold hands with his beloved one. Never.
The disease had taken control. He'd lost. He screamed out his surrender to the ceiling.
The window was now wide open. The cold winter breeze stung his eyes. They watered. His body shivered. He didn't have to do this. But there seemed to be no choice.
He closed his eyes for a while. Soaking in the fear. Scenes flashed at a million frames per second. Til all he could see was white. No sound. No image. Just the ground below. Over his shoulder, the candle light begun its own fight with the breeze that whistled its way in. Then.. a yell and a thump. The breeze stopped. The candle still burns...
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