The Quest

Stranger to my own eyes, these words have been ringing in my head ever since, from the last couple of weeks. Who am I, what do I represent, what constitutes my thoughts, what makes me, who is the true me? The more I dwell in these thoughts, the more confounded I become with what I have become, I have been and I am. Deceit, manipulation and lies colour me in their green shades and I, knowingly, unknowingly, revel in them. I had the chance to let go of the lies, to let go of the cloak of deceit that I proudly wrapped around myself, but their false glitter was too shiny to leave behind and I kept dancing in their momentary joy, hurting people in the process, inflicting pain that I was too haughty and nonchalant to comprehend. I became the quintessential Hilaire Belloc’s Matilda who kept lying so much so that one day when she spoke the truth of a raging inferno in her house the crowd assumed it to be another of her lies and the flames of death charred her. Was I always like this? Did I become that person? Am I inherently the bad lot?

I do believe I have shades of some goodness that lie hidden, making appearances once a while, but the moments of goodness lose their voice, their essence when the overpowering sense of deceit hue them in their opaque shades. A hypocrite cloaked in duplicity uttering only all that would make me look pious-I am that person. I exaggerate and the fact I am happily, or unhappily blessed, with the ability to bend my words to my advantage make all that I wrote and said lethal. I am so rigid in my thoughts, in all that I believe in that anything contrary to what I so vehemently believe in is met with intense dislike; and I will with my ingenuity spin a tale to make my point, to make a statement that the world has to agree with. Haughty and high-headed, I sit high in my fake pedestal of glory judging the world that I wrongly assume to be beneath me. Jealously comes inherent to me and I refuse to look at the abilities that I possess and let the green fire of jealousy consume me, wallowing in the hell of jealousy. Confront me and I will victimize myself, making the other person sorry for what they rightfully said. I dwell in the ghettos of misery; I derive my energy from negativity, from feeling sorry for myself, for playing the hapless victim always, for never accepting that I make mistakes and it is not circumstances that must be blamed at all times.

I have lost myself thus, I have become a stranger to my own eyes and I needed a good shaking up to have the scales of falsehood that blinded my eyes crack open, to let the light seep through and I am grateful to that force in the form of a person. I need to let go of the baggage from the past, to let go of that manipulative and deceitful person and embrace happiness, embrace acceptance. I need to find myself, I will begin again and I will tread upon that quest to seek myself.