It’s funny how memories come and go. They’re there one moment and gone the next. The skies which look blue one day are forgotten the next. A beautiful song that moves you one night is lost when dawn comes. There’s nothing to grab onto or hold onto. When you stare at all the endless memories being made and being forgotten. Lives forged. Lives changed. Lives lost. Lives lived. People known. People discarded. All a part of one self which is reckless and careless.
Sometimes when I listen to that forgotten song or see that lost sky I remember and the feeling washes over me inside with a warm mist that moves inside reminding me of days and nights and things that disappear with it.
I. I look out at the open fields and the open sky and the open air that lie outside my window. Looking at my hand and back at the window I feel imprisoned inside the little room I stand in. The freedom that lies outside only magnifies my awareness that I will forever be a prisoner.
When I think about the past I find myself unable to explain why I did what I did and how things came to be. To me, all of my life seemed to reside in the past. I only knew what had happened in the past and even then I couldn’t be sure. That day when I stood on the pier and washed my hands I didn’t know what I felt. You see, I felt exhilarated. I felt like as if my dull life had become vibrant again – as if a sudden downpour of life had made way into my dying mind and made it surge and rise with energy.
Oh I never knew that when I’d grow up I’d become what I am today. Oh no, I thought I’d be a great lawyer sitting behind a large oak table and firing orders. I thought everything would go my way. But something changed. In my 20th year I felt like I’d hit the lowest I’d ever been. Life, life itself seemed absent from my life – and that’s why I did it.
It crossed my mind randomly. I thought – see here I am, bored and lifeless, what would it be like if I did something to make things change? So it was decided then. I went to the market and bought a sharp plastic kitchen knife, some tomatoes and a pillow cover. I googled up a list of obscure crowded hotels in crowded busy cities and settled on a choice. I packed my bags and headed out.
Hotel Minx stood before me meekly and subdued. I smiled of course. I had to. I walked in and I was glad I chose that hotel, because well, it was terribly crowded and filled with a lot of lesser humans. I opened a half empty pack of cigarettes and headed to the counter even as I adjusted my ordinary students glasses on my nose. They were fake of course and I never actually smoked. In a hoarse voice I asked the man for a room as he handed me the register and a pen. I took the book and handed him a $20 bill – the room cost $10 a night. As he looked down at his drawer for change I pretended to sign the book and handed it back to him, as expected, the man did not notice anything wrong.
Lugging my bags up I went to my room and sat on the bed. I removed the kitchen knife and pressed the bell for room service. It was 1pm then and I knew that there would be a bit of a rush in the Hotel. However, I also knew that in hotels like these, not many knew where the attendants were because there wasn’t much attention given to details. 10 minutes later, I heard a knock on my door and I saw a man walk in. He had a sheepish grin on his face that gave it a perpetually apologetic expression and an oil stain on his t-shirt. I’m sorry -” he began. I nodded and signaled him over.
Holding up the old plastic menu with the knife underneath I bade him to come closer. I don’t know what i felt then. I was a little nervous and excited but I’m not sure. As the man came closer and bent down to look at the menu which I had held low, I raised my hand with a quick movement and slit his neck. He looked at me helplessly – and apologetically, as the blood streamed down his neck and soaked his clothes and ran over the oil stain on his t-shirt and onto the floor. I stared at him struggle for a while before I stabbed him 4 more times just to be sure. A smell that was coarse and wet had filled the room as I had sat there staring at the man. Then very slowly, I went to the bathroom and took a long shower, or so I thought. Now that I think of it I must’ve showered for only about 7 minutes. Dressing myself I picked up my bags quietly and left the hotel room locking the door behind me and leaving the key underneath the mat that was placed at the foot of the door. The receptionist never noticed and I doubt he would remember me.
I hailed a cab and got off at the restaurant near my house where I removed my spectacles and donned my original persona. I wasn’t worried about my bloody clothes or the knife in my bag. I’d burn those later. No one would catch me. There had been no motive and the location had been random. It would be at least 1 day before the body would be found – gauging from the lousy management of the hotel and the assumption that this wouldn’t be the first time an attendant left work halfway. There would be no evidence of anyone booking the room 10B either. I was very much relaxed.
And that’s what happened 4 months ago. Since then, I’ve killed only twice. I think that the third will be my last. It’s always wise not to push your luck. But for some reason, since the day I first killed, every room seems like a prison to me. I am – it seems, bound by my aging, dying conscience. Ah, never mind! There is nothing to be gained by being morose. My life has gotten more exciting now. Every now and then there are reports of the murders on television, without any new breaks. I don’t think 3 murders are enough to lead the police to believe that there’s an ex-serial killer on the lose.
And well, that’s that.
Hello readers, it’s been a long time since I last posted something.
I started this blog when I was 18 years old, young, naive and freshly initiated to a law school. I had grandiose plans about the future. I felt emotions strongly. I was blunt, honest, couldn’t see past most basic human behaviour. I wrote passionately about my emotions and my wish for love and friendship. 2 years later, here I am. I turned 20 sometime ago and I’m about to complete my second year in Law School.
You are probably curious about the changes that must’ve occurred during this period. See, when I first came to law School I was looking for:
3. More to this life
4. Exposure to life.
What did I get?
1. I certainly did not find love, haha! No I am not sad. In fact I have stopped searching for it. What has instead grown within me, is a strong feeling of self love, acceptance of myself and an inner confidence. A little independence. I have learnt to stop yearning for the fairy tale love I have always been searching for. I knew all the while that it was unreasonable, but I was willing to give way to rationality and reason when the time came.
2. Friendship. Ah. That sweet word. During my two year stay I have lost my first close friend in law school. I have learnt about the intrinsic goodness of most humans. I have learnt not to be averse to talking to people I do not know well. I have learnt that people have shells placed around them that a simple smile, a conversation and some time can break apart. I have found a new friend in place of a new one. A friend who does not expect much from me but my trust, loyalty and honesty. I have found a friend who I long to help and be there in times of her need. A friend who is rather selfless and I wil work. I will work so that I do not lose her.
3. You may have inferred from the above that my belief that there is more to this life has been cemented. I will travel and I will live and I will be alive. I now do things I normally wouldn’t have done. I do things I enjoy even if they do not become me. (nothing incredibly unhealthy of course).. I plan to get lavender dip dyed hair, an idea I was always skeptical about because I thought that it would’t suit me. But now I’ve realized that something as trivial as that shouldn’t hold one back. The fact that society has a problem with someone doing something they like simply because it does not seem visually appealing to them. Haha, I know you expected more than just matters concerning hair, but I had to post this because it depicts more. It shows the break from ones previous doubts and fears. I had always been one to ambassador the cause of a rich society free life, but now I can actually do it. It’s more ideological than physical, but it marks a step to something more. I have also begun to read a lot more. Of late, the human anatomy has been an interest of mine and I cannot help but feel excited thinking about advancing my knowledge in that sphere! I like law man. Haha!
4. Exposure huh. Recently I talked to Podrick Payne in a public fan gathering. It seems silly, but for someone who is stricken with nervousness in the presence of the public I fought my fears for- yes, a celebrity haha, please do not think I am a naive person😄. These events actually mold your life. It made me more comfortable with speaking in public later and this year when I moot, yes I’ll do it again, I’ll speak with confidence and strength. I also traveled a bit, will be travelling to a different state with only my friends, which is a big move for someone who has lived in a cloistered environment as I have. So you see, things are changing slowly. That aside, I have read a lot of different theories and philosophies and takes on life. I no longer believe in things when I read them from an unaccredited source. I no longer judge things without thinking about it carefully and applying logic and reason to it. I read the news more often now, though it sometimes depresses me. Overall, I have developed a yearning for knowledge that unfortunately other procastinat-ive things hold back from me. But there is time and after exams I aim to master art and other areas.
You may have noticed that most of the things that impacted me heavily were little, seemingly unimportant things. Well that just goes to show that little things mold a person over time.
I have my exams going on at the moment but I hope to upload more literary pieces of mine here. Yes, one thing that did happen was that law school clogged my pen and as a result I almost lost one of my dearest talents. Well, I’m here to stay!!
Dear readers, if you ever find yourselves in times of doubt and uncertainty, be brave, stand up tall and fight back! You can do it. I truly believe in all of you. Let our belief in each other fill our lives with positivity and happiness. There is so much to life, be sure to tap your potential and that of life. Don’t let your jobs hold you back. if you love something you will make time for it. Like how you do not pick up that hobby you like because “there is no time” but spend 4 hours watching cat videos on You-tube.😛
Hey. do it.
Let us stick to our roots,
embrace our dismal pasts.
let us pretend that we,
as humans are advancing.
Let us herald our old heroes
and rejoice in their transience.
Let us never ever question,
why it is that we ARE HERE today.
My dear readers,
Very often I find myself in the company of people who follow archaic beliefs and practice archaic practices. They do not stop and think about the utility this practice produces or the effect or impact it has on different people. No, they insists of practicing these methods and imposing it on people regardless of circumstance. Let me give you a small example.
Many people sleep late and wake up late. Is this a bad habit? It is if you’re doing nothing productive all day – and night. It is not, if you work best at night, regardless of what early to bed nutcrackers will tell you.
I have nothing against you imbeciles who wake up early in the morning, having slept for at least ten hours, given that most early risers I know sleep at 10pm. But I do have a problem with those who look down with disdain at my poor shell of a body which has received rest for only around 4 hours, having slept at 6am, due to the amount of disturbance and nagging it receives from those who think that waking up at 10am is a sin worthy of perdition.
It does not matter if they’ve done less, in a day, than what my pour lifeless body has done 1 hour in those wee hours of the cold winter morning. Nope. All that matters is propriety.
Well to hell with all those useless propriety and etiquette and all those nonsensical practices which prove to be useless.
Please, I beg, as the Beatles once sang, leave me be for “I’m only sleeping.”
Blow blow softly at the glass,
watch the blurry blurry world.
Draw the image of your mind,
And smile as your favourite song comes on.
Watch the mist slowly fade,
Talk soft things to yourself,
Wipe away the tinted glass,
And cry as you stare at wrinkled hands.
Flames lap up my clothes.
Flames burn my scorching skin.
Flames weave their arms around me.
Flames coax out a voice buried in disapproval,
Flames draw my fate and signal the draw of the curtain.
Flames eat me from the outside while my soul dies from the inside.
Flames speak to me silently as the world stares on aghast at my dance.
When my eyes shut, the world shall light up in flickers and when I’m gone, so will my flames.