Lost

“Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.”
-Sylvia Plath

Since the past two weeks I have been craving for some really nice freshly baked double choc cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate caramel filling baked by myself. Today, a fine Saturday morning, I wake up and make my mind, “Today is the day I treat myself to that cake I have been thinking about for oh so long.” Pushing past all my laziness and sluggishness, I finally managed to bake that cake. It didn’t take me all that long to bake it, but getting hold of all those ingredients and that “wait” while the batter was in the oven, was the most irritating part of it all. But after getting through the entire process, when I could finally sit down at the table, with a huge piece of that freshly baked hot double choc cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate caramel filling, and gobbling it all down spoon by spoon, my mouth full, my hunger for cake satisfied, it was the most gratifying moment in the recent few days. Nothing felt better than that feeling of being full. And then soon after, I sat down with the second piece of cake. However this time, when I was almost half done with that piece of cake, there came over a feeling of throwing up and disgust. I could no longer take more in. And it was then that I realized that the joy of getting what I wanted was nothing but all a momentary satisfactory.

                                                                                                           

An incident quite similar to this happened the very same day. It was during the evening that I found myself wanting everything, but even I did not know what this “everything” was. I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, with a tall glass of mocha in my hand, and my brain so full of thoughts, it started to feel close to nothing. Suddenly I went numb and crazy. I began over thinking; however it felt as though only randomness. Scenes from my past started developing, I was travelling through time and reiterating to the old times, I started talking to people the way I used to talk to them possibly a year ago, and I was trying to be happy, but at the core something was ripping out my chest and it wanted to come out but it was trapped. I felt trapped. A part of me wanted every thing to be okay and fine, but the mess that I had got myself into was irrevocably impossible to dig out of. The pain started growing incredibly fast and nobody could solve this problem; because the problem did not seem to exist. All I wanted was everything, but “everything” had seemed to lose its definition.