Gray, and Other Colors.

“Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you”

It’s 7:17 am, but something must be wrong with the weather. There’s a thick white veil draped like blindfolds over everywhere you turn to, as your feet strikes the earth in quick bursts of mechanical energy, which propels you forward. You are afraid you just might hit something (or someone) on the way as you run. Where? You’re unsure. But you keep running, snaking and swerving through the streets you barely recognize in the mist. You’re running because that’s what you need to do.

Thud after thud, you run.

Somewhere along the way, you see flashes of events you recognize at first glance. But your face is a blank page, scribbled with invincible ink.

This year isn’t just another year — by God, it isn’t — you can brush aside with a backhanded gesture, while chugging down the contents of a bottle, in a room full of happy folks, weird lights, pop music, and whatever you can throw into the mix.

Sure, some of your best memories will be filed and logged and locked away in a vault somewhere in your head, inside the folder: The year 2020. The year you made your mother smile (although she wasn’t exactly pleased with some of the choices you made in life). The year you left home to seek greener pastures in another city. The year you took responsibility for your actions head-on. The year you let yourself go, and made bonds with new people.

But then…there were the other memories. The memories that left a sour taste to your lips; the memories that took centerpiece in your heart, and like a virus, reached out and consumed everything at its wake; the memories that made those happy memories seem like daydreams, hallucinations of a past life. Someone else’s life.

These new memories made you question yourself.

You gyrate to a stop at the T-Junction, feeling a cocktail of guilt and nostalgia mix dangerously in your gut. Your breaths come in quick, hoarse puffs as you consider your options. They aren’t many.

The tarred road to your left after a couple of miles, links with the state lines. The other road is untarred and unkempt and dirty and smells like an old lady.

For some reason, you count to three, stilling yourself, and race the uneven planes of the untarred roads. To where it leads.

This year alone, you’ve experienced enough pains to last you a lifetime and a quarter. You’ve wallowed in the shallow and deep waters of depression. Heck, there were times you felt like an extra in a movie scene. A bystander whose actions (or the lack of it thereof) contributed zilch to the grand scheme of events. Like an oldie reading a paper at the park. Like a deadbeat drunk snoring on the sidewalk while a bank nearby is being robbed.

There were times you thought you’d had enough, only for you to be sucker-punched on the face again. And again. And again.

There were times you nursed suicidal thoughts; you still do…sometimes. There were times you just let those demons feast on you, hacking you to tiny bits of consciousness.

Do not call yourself a writer. No. You write, yes, but can’t do so to even save your life. The idea of turning on your laptop to complete that work(s) gathering dust in your Ms-Word scares you. You’re exactly what a failed writer should look like. Lazy. Shut out. Detached.

You are at the end of the road now. It opens to a river stretching to boundaries unknown. You get to the edge of the water…and just stand there. Alone. Staring wistfully into the void, you hear sounds and voices. You can make out their distinct resounding sonance, as the water laps against your feet. Friends from the first memories. They call out to you.

Your face for the first time today breaks into a wide grin, your sadness slipping away faster than grains of sand through unclenched palms. You remember your favorite line from J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter book. By Albus Dumbledore.

“Happiness can be found, even in the darkest times, if one only remembers to turn on the light”.

You make a promise right here. Right now. That you’ll always be happy no matter what happens to you. And this happiness will reflect on others.

Then you heave a sigh. And exhale. Peace.