The Numbness

Written By: Maham Shahbaz

`When he was little he thought that people only died when they were no longer wanted or no longer loved and cared for. He was so sure that he would too. There was something about that though, mother lost in all her day job and then night job and father who would come back at night after all day at work. Friends were not friends.

Years after that he gained intelligence and maturity but that theory was still in the back of his mind, always haunting him. He had a job, he had money, he had relations and he had love but there was something missing…a big void he never seemed to fill. What was it? He could never find out.

There were days when he wouldn’t even feel, he forced emotions like anger and happiness. Inside he was all numb.  some say that it is better than hurting all over but that’s not true, you see life is misery, happiness, solitude, companionship, mixture of everything and every feeling but the feeling of content. 

That is lacking in every life and that is something no man can ever achieve, for after content there would be no one left to pray, to go to war, to love, to care…nothing…the world would be numb. Only the dead are numb. So when he forced these emotions he couldn’t quiet control the magnitude of them they always slipped from his grasp a little too much or a little too less, never perfect.  He was called headstrong, he was called heartless, he was called too loving, he was called too kind, he was called too cruel,  he was called too observant, he was called too ignorant, he was called too arrogant and he was called too modest. But what really was he? Nothing. He was nothing. He was just as lost as everyone else but the worst happened to him, he was aware that he was lost.

…and we walk and we walk

And we think and we think and we think

The person in front of me is, me

But she shines a little and smiles

But I’m a bit dark and I know only plastic smiles

But she feels and she loves

But I’m numb and I manage to still care

But she is beautiful and…oh! So beautiful

But I’m wrecked and messed up

She knows pure and only pure

I know how to infiltrate pure to make others happy

Torn between who I really am?

There were days when he would wake up and he wouldn’t know where he was or what he was. I’m not talking about the calm peaceful nap after one forgets who he is for a moment but he used to wake up and he used to stare at his side table and the frame that has been there for over a year and the box that has been with him for more than half his life were unfamiliar to him. He would squint his eyes and it would all come rushing back all of a sudden and his head would hurt with sharp pangs of pain.

He would some days see these images of people suddenly in his mind, the ones he has never met. Sometimes just the features, up too close. The only thing constant was the one person or a thing who was always there … he would see him around and he would beg him to show and come up front but the creature never reacted and never came. Something about his presence, it stopped all the madness and even a day away from him would cause all of that again.

Centuries ago I held your hand and you held me

I went for your love and you went for mine

You took mine but I never got all of yours

You got tired and you still held on to it

Then I died and I went somewhere else, you followed and you were somewhere else

I looked for you and I looked but I couldn’t find you

Lives passed and I forgot you

But the void that you left is vacant still but I don’t remember you

You are somewhere ages behind or ages ahead

We both don’t know and we both do see